Last week I said, as ever, that this week’s second visit might be better. Or it might be worse.

A practical people built this place, I suspect.

It does the job. It has dignity. It does not seek to overawe the citizen.

Yes, a very practical sort of people.

I’d love for each Watson to have his own wing. You’d call and ask for Watson, and the receptionist would ask “which one,” and you’d say “Left Watson.”

OH LOOK WHO’S PUTTING ON THE FANCY ROMAN AIRS NOW

That’s more in keeping with the town spirit.

Also, it’s a bad, bad building. Slit windows and a bad mansard. But they knew no better at the time. (Actually yes, of course they did.)

“Well, Bob, you went in on the awning with the rest of us, so I suppose you can paint your part any way you like, if you gots to.”

Gee I wonder what they sold

That is one harrowed facade.

The one on the left still looks shocked and stunned by it all.

Somehow I suspect that in this town, when it comes to problem solving, everything looks like a nail

No, those never were windows.

None of those were windows.

Stupid frilly little awnings.

Is this the birthplace of the metal 70s Mansard roof inventor, or something?

I’m not always a fan of painting brick, but it does wonders here.

A rather inelegant piece of post-war commercial modernism, but I feel protective and affectionate towards it.

And every downtown is better for one of these, just because it’s different.

Did the name engraved in stone arrive?”

“No, the check bounced.”

Opened in 1922, closed in the 60s.

Mr. B, upon realizing that many of his clients had insufficiently strong eyeglasses, hit upon a bold new advertising strategy.

Great sign. And it’s a testament to civil order that that bare-tube neon was put up in the first place.

Yes, a practical people, not overly concerned with the aesthetics of things.

The door makes me wonder if it was an old bank ruthless converted into a barn.

Annnnd I give up. .