The Towns of Ghosts

 

The Great Depression left lots of empty shells on the prairie.  Towns boomed around the westward migration and the immigration wave of the late 1800’s into the 1920’s.  During the Roaring 20’s people were living high and fast.  It was prohibition and speakeasies, the flapper girls and gangsters.  Money was plentiful and easy to come by.  Self indulgence was the mantra of the day. 

Then came the crash of 1929, life was to change like no one could of froe seen.  People were going hungry, no jobs.  Dreams that had been built were being shuttered and left, abandoned.  Some small communities disappeared and are but a reminder on old time maps.  A few hung in through the 30’s only to decline with the coming modern age of the automobile.

Along some highways are reminders of these past days.  Small communities hang on but the shells of other days sit empty.  No longer is main street a bustling burg.  People seldom stroll down the sidewalks to go shopping.  Here one can walk the median stipe of main and not meet a car.

With time permitting, I like to drive off the beaten path and drive the streets of these little towns.  It offers a glimpse back into the past that has been glossed over by many or ignored.

This neat old building had been a grocery store at one time.  There were not supermarkets back then.  From the side one can see the living quarters on the second floor where the store owner lived.  Wasn’t much long distance commuting back then.  With the two brick chimneys, it indicates that there was stove of some type, wood or coal probably.  The building was probably built around 1900’s.  There was no electricity back then or natural gas on the prairie.

On the sides can be seen the additions as the shop was expanded.  Maybe another business was opened next door.  It is fascinating to speculate on what when on in this little town 100 years ago.

On the roof one can see the modern conveniences added over time,  The utility lines for electricity, a television antenna and maybe central heating.

Today it sits vacant, falling to the ravishes of time.  With the curtain and shades on the window it appears someone may of bought it and used it for a residence.  I have seen some people move out from the big city and buy places like this dirt cheap and fix them up.  It would make a nice large spacious home, great studio.  Not much racket and noise in these small towns. 

In silence the grand store sits awaiting its fate.

Treasures over there

 

There it is, just off the highway on a side street.  Gotta turn the wheel, go round the corner, pause a bit.  Otherwise one flies past the ,many tid bit treasures hid on the back waters of small town USA.  Well not everyone calls them treasures, for some it is trash.  Like so many things, depends on your view.

 

The collection of stuff was amazing, was it a store, I have no idea, I just wanted pictures.

Some day, well yes, it is a someday item and someday I will go past and pause longer to check things closer.  For know I can browse my pictures.

It is this kind of place I like to window shop.  Many of these things I have seen from the window while driving down the road or out on the farm.  In a way it is almost a museum, at least a trip down memory lane.

It appears to be well organized.  Walkways among the stuff.  Neat piles.  No junkyard dog.

Off the beaten path, pausing for a bit in small town America.

Support Counter Intelligence

 

Out in a little town, in the middle of nowhere, close to somewhere is Mama’s store.  Here is a collection of old stuff, for she rents space to a variety of people.  Even the store is old.

In the old days of saloons and pool halls this shop thrived.  Pool balls made great missiles to be launched at the enemy.  Even the ceiling had it’s stories.  There and here was the occasional bullet hole. 

 

The clientele has changed, it is now mostly the wives of the pool players that wander the aisles. No longer to the six shooters thunder forth, or dodge the lost pool ball.

The floor can still be heard shuffling some soft shoe.  The hair from the barber getting mixed into the floor.  His chair long gone, but a memory.

The bar, cabinets and stools still await the thirsty traveler.  One can belly up to the bar.

I  stop in for the iced latte, maybe a shake just for  the ambiance.  Walk the aisles, hear the memories whisper to me.

Main Street

 

Small Town America has its main street and each is unique yet very similar.  Building style in the Americas was brought from Europe and as the people moved west they brought what they were familiar with.

The highway would divide the town and usually there was some railroad tracks next to the road.  With the changes in style and moving to the burbs, style has changed.  In the old neighborhoods of the city and out in the small towns the simple style can still be  seen.  There are no sleek and shiny buildings in these place, well usually.

Main street is maybe the highway or it is a cross street to the highway.  Sometimes main street would be built around a town square, here the roads intersected and there would be a bandstand in the middle.

In my roaming I go through many small rural towns.  Time permitting I stop and take a few pictures of Main Street.

The old hotels that are still standing are rare catches and made for interesting architecture.  Pause and imagine the business that was transacted in the lobbies of these grand old buildings.  Here is where the traveling peddler would stay.  These small towns were important to him. 

Nearby would be his customers, the clothing shop, hardware store, drug store or maybe the bank.  I would love to have the wall of these old buildings talk to me.

Some have moved to these small towns and bought the old empty stores and made them into nice homes.  Put some sweat equity into them.

Journey down the back roads, what is the next cross road reveal.  Is there another adventure awaiting.

Hope you are having a great week.  Winter is knocking on the door here.  Below freezing and snow in the mountains.

Old Threshers Day…… finit

 

Threshing day, this is the day the farmer worked for.  Here he would see the fruits of his labor.  The grain was his pay for the years work of plowing, tilling and planting.  I was an area celebration.  Neighbors would gather and help each other with the threshing.  Hay ricks would be towed in, followed by grain wagons.  The wives would show up with lemonade and food, there would be visiting and catching up on the gossip.

Usually one farmer would have a threshing machine and another would supply the tractor and together the neighbors would work from sun up till it set.

Hay ricks would empty and be re loaded with the straw for the hay stack.  Grain wagons would be hauled back to the granary to be unloaded.  It was a frenzy of activity.

The tractor would be hooked up and work begins.  Wheat bundles tossed to the threshers belt and separated out grain rolls out of the chute while straw piles up behind the thresher.

For the farmer this was the most critical part of the year.  It made him or broke him.  No longer do the steamers operate the thrashers today.

The government has passed all kinds of regulations and inspections that most people don’t want to spend the money to show them off.  The government has taken a harmless hobby and quashed it because one individual screwed up and blew his tractor up.  The many have to pay for the screw up of one.

For me these celebrations are about the steamers and the roll they played in pioneer life.  Instead an old tractor gets hooked up and sputters along imitating an old steamer.

This is what I learned to drive, it was one year newer.  I didn’t drive a car till I was 16.  It was trucks and tractors out across the fields and down the country roads.

May the dove of happiness be your companion this weekend.

Old Threshers Day…… VI

 

One of the old days is the old time entertainment.  The singing, with maybe an instrument, something small, a fiddle, harmonica or a dulcimer maybe.  Guitars and pianos were just plain ole big to lug over the prairie in a covered wagon, although a few made it.  There was always the washboard and maybe some spoons.  Otherwise music was pretty simple. 

There were some singers that sang during the lunch hour.  Some good picking and twanging to go with the barbecue.  There were a couple of large canopies with picnic tables under them and a PA system was set for the entertainment.   They had their guitars and a good nasal twang, good ole down home singin’.

Later s fiddler showed up and the hoe down was under way.

Collections, never have I seen so many collectible collections.

And there were also quilts.  What is an old time day without a quilt or two.

Jump in the Ox wagon and go for a ride around the grounds.