Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Ol' Red in Dallas

         The old county courthouse in Dallas, built in 1892 and saved from demolition recently, is now known as Ol' Red. The building, heavily restored, now hosts exhibits about the history of Dallas.
Thank you beautiful clouds enhancing my picture!


Inside, the Flying Philly seems to fly across the floor. 


Squint hard to see the wyvern atop the roof, behind the fourth floor turret. Beyond the wyvern, note the top of the mirrored skyscraper demonstrating the juxtaposition of the old and the new. The wyverns on the east side of Ol' Red are the originals from 1892; the two on the west are fairly recent.


The glass in the windows of the turrets show some distortion 
in the Dallas County Records Building across the street. 


Inside one of the renovated court rooms, my friend Ellen serves as judge.


Massive iron stair structures climb from the first to the fourth floor. 


Details of the stairs show rays emanating from a star that reflect light from each step. At the end of this flight we can glimpse a lunette protected from rustling feet by a brass bar. 


I found one of the original lunettes on display.


The exhibit, spanning a couple hundred years of history in Dallas, 
included a diary written by Martin Gauldin during the 1840s. 


Clouds, though, competed all day to steal the show. 



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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.