Fourteen thousand souls. Could've been named Monckville:

George Monck, 1st Duke of Albemarle (6 December 1608 – 3 January 1670) was an English soldier, who fought on both sides during the Wars of the Three Kingdoms. A prominent military figure under the Commonwealth, his support was crucial to the Restoration of Charles II in 1660, who rewarded him with the title Duke of Albemarle and other senior positions.

Starting at the outskirts again.

Elevator surroundings are never nice.

The flags are a nod to the original function:

At some point this style and layout ceased to say "Automobile" to most people. Wonder when that happened.

Erg. The two competing post-war faux-rock paradigms, locked in eternal dispute:

The 20s style + Buckaroo overhang + fancy door is the sum of all bad small town ideas.

Not just any Barg:

The thing you have to understand about towns of a certain size is that structures like this will hang around, unused, forever, until everyone who remembered its original purpose is dead and gone.

They stand, ignored, with no plans to do anything with them, ever again.

So you say, but . . .

Modern design! Really. Those brick "columns" added something to the facade, and it was literally better than nothing. They also told you were the door was.

A domestic touch - a hipped roof over the door - was added later, marring its original stern modern lines. Or softening them, depending on your perspective.

Later: I guess “marring” was the eventual conclusion.

Sometimes I think “did I go here because if a motel or a matchbook?” And the question is answered quite quickly.

OUMB, with those thin clock towers that were all the vogue for a while. I liked them. They added some stature and gravitas to ordinary buildings, but I suppose the clocks eventually broke, and it was cheaper to pry off the hands.

They added some stature and gravitas to ordinary buildings, but I suppose the clocks eventually broke, and it was cheaper to pry off the hands.

And sell the marble.

The overly fresh old sign always feels oddly false.

Maybe not the best color choice.

You can tell it got a 50s rehab for the lower floor, and it’s falling apart. Or, again, they’re selling off the stone to make the rent.

“No, leave them unpainted. Let people wonder who is walled up behind those ancient sightless windows, bones surrounded by casks of amontillado."

A handsome sign of prosperity, looking somehow as if it was quite new. You know it’s not. But something says it is. It’s like the building they copy to make “classical” buildings today, and it looks like the the knockoffs it inspires. Perhaps it’s the scaling of the cupola and the clumsy space between the two string courses.

A civic building, of course.

“In God We Trust,” over IBM punchcard windows.

More of this place next week. It  has to get better, as I always say on a two-parter.