Fifty-six thousand souls, the size of Fargo when I was growing up.
State of the art mid-century civic building. It has a spare self-possession, right? The antithesis of baroque!
Then again
I wonder if that’s a later imposition.
OUMB, I think.
Let’s make sure the second floor looks like something taken from an enormous bridge in another city!
“I’m just tired of people tryin’ to get inside, that’s all. None of their business.”
I wonder what use the second floor was designed to accommodate. It has the effect of making the bottom floor look underscored.
They certainly spent a dollar or two.
You wonder what went down for this. No doubt some people said “ahh, those old buildings were perfectly fine, then they gotta tear ‘em down for this? There used to be a half-dozen different buildings. It was interesting to look like. Not any more.”
“The plane just clipped ‘er before it crashed, right over there in that lot.”
Compact little civic structure; make a nice castle for garden gnomes.
“What we’re gonna do is jack ‘er up and put two floors underneath instead of on top"
You know this has to be some sort of auditorium, right? They did this with the big blank brick walls of the stage house.
But . . . this doesn’t seem like a theater.
What
Nice little ghost sign. Makes you wonder . . .
. . . what was up against it for all those years, and why the part that was exposed is more vivid.
Like a family portrait where one of the daughters insists on wearing the most modern style, and everyone else is formal
Opened November 16, 1939, replacing an earlier Princess Theatre which was destroyed by fire. This theater, the last of four in Harriman, closed in 1999. However, a restoration was planned by actor Muse Watson (the guy with the hook in “I Know What You Did Last Summer”), who lives in the area. Renovation and restoration work began in 2003. Renovations were completed for a March 22, 2012 reopening as a live theatre.
Prepare to visit a Lost World. (Theater is seen around 2:28)
Fair guess: old Post Office.
Looks as if it should’ve been a train depot of some kind.
It has two names. Swift . . .
And Lake.
I am haunted by sights like this: old signs of prosperity now abandoned to the elements.
Fifty-six thousand souls, the size of Fargo when I was growing up. 
