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, August 30, 2012

From Start to a Finish

    Intrigued by the facade of a building downtown, I poked my nose in the city index of 1923. Why that year? Easy to answer: The facade shows, "19 and 23." The year, plus the address, are good places to begin. JoAnn had already discovered that they, the folks in the building, earned a living in real estate.  This afternoon, nose in several years of the city indexes, I noted that Gullahorn and Beard were partners in both real estate and live stock dealing. As far back as I studied this afternoon, which was 1920, those were their businesses. Their address was listed as 501 Indiana until 1945, when they listed 101 Indiana.


    The address of the beautiful building is 517 Indiana, different from the address listed in the index. 

Facade of building showing Gullhorn, 19 and 23, and Beard 
across the brick above, and the address on the wood.

A truck sits abandoned alongside the building. 

    On a side note, having nothing to do with the intriguing building, except, perhaps, its location, also parked on its property is the trailer of an eighteen-wheeler, which provides shelter for two homeless persons. Underneath, they seem to have most of what they need to provide for their creature comforts.

     By 1945, the address listed for Gullahorn and Beard shows 101 Indiana, where only the concrete foundation exists now, and the trunk of a tree long gone. 


Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

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.