Summer Vacation 2006, Part One

Katie and I just got back from Minneapolis, where we saw, heard, did, and ate a lot of wonderful things.

We drove up instead of flying because there’s a lot of land between St. Louis and Minneapolis that we haven’t seen yet. We took US 61 to the top of Missouri, and cut across on 136 to pick up US 63, which we followed all the way through Iowa.

We stopped for lunch in Bloomfield, a nice little county seat with a handsome courthouse on a bustling square. The Iowa Theatre has a cool Moderne façade, and two doors down there’s a vintage Coke sign over Ray’s Recreation. We had lunch at Rancho Centinela on the square; it’s a Mexican restaurant occupying a huge storefront—6000 square feet, says one resource—that I suspect might have been a department store in a previous life.

We’re carrying Buildings of Iowa with us; it’s one volume in a series of books published by the American Institute of Architects, and it lists notable buildings in many of the towns we’re passing through. I’m most interested, obviously, in mid-20th-century relics, so when we hit Ottumwa I seek out the Rowe Drug Store. It’s supposed to be a Streamline Moderne classic, clad in neon and midnight-blue-and-cream Vitrolite. At the listed address is a tiny, nondescript storefront swathed in stucco. It’s not a drug store anymore, and all the Moderne finery is gone. The only hint that this is even the correct address is a capital R set in the tile at the entrance.
Oskaloosa is a bust too, as I’m looking for the old Rivola Theater that’s listed on CinemaTour. It’s gone (though visible at Cinema Treasures); entire blocks of the main drag have been replaced by a modern strip center that’s supposed to act as a natural extension of the old business district. There’s a farmers’ market set up along one side of the square, though, and Katie scores some tomatoes and blackberries.

There’s a nice surprise in New Sharon: The Capri Theatre is a well-preserved example of an older cinema getting a 1960s makeover. The entire entrance is uninterrupted glass, and atop the marquee are backlit letters in individual boxes spelling CAPRI. Theatres built or remodeled in this style are often a curious mix of rough stone facing and poodly wrought-iron, and the Capri is a fine example. The venue is run by volunteers, and it’s open only on weekends—but the $1.50 admission charge is hard to beat.

There were a couple of things I wanted to check out in Malcom, but an angry-looking storm cloud is literally following us up the highway so we buzz on through in hopes of leaving it behind.

The coast is clear by the time we hit Traer, so we check out the famous Winding Staircase that was built in 1894 for direct access to a second-floor newspaper office. Just down the block is the Traer Theatre, which is run by the city and is presently being remodeled.

WATERLOO/CEDAR FALLS

We had reservations at the Quality Inn in Waterloo. After everything was set up, I discovered TripAdvisor.com, and checked out the users’ comments on our hotel. One traveler noted that the Quality Inn was in the “WORST neighborhood in all of Iowa” and that the outer doors required no key-cards for entry: “You could just walk in at all hours and hop on the elevator up to the rooms, no questions asked.” Well, how the hell else are you supposed to get in when you first arrive, before you’ve registered? The restaurant and bar are both open to the public, and if their doors to the hotel lobby were locked, it would be a fire hazard. Myself, I worry more when I arrive at a motel and I have to be buzzed in. There are three locks on the door to your room, worry-wart. Use ‘em.

True, the Quality Inn was not in the prettiest of neighborhoods, but it didn’t look particularly dangerous to me. There were at least four bars within rock-throwing distance, but we didn’t hear any drunken hollering during our stay. The immediate area also contained an ethnic grocery, several warehouses, more hotels, a convention center, a Subway restaurant, and a pizza parlor with the repellently cutesy habit of spelling its product “peetza.” I would’ve thought the hotel just fine, even if I hadn’t been named “Guest of the Day” and gotten upgraded to a two-room suite with a whirlpool tub!


In the morning, Buildings of Iowa led us to a swell art-deco gas station (now a fence store), and further exploring revealed a vintage neon sign in the shape of a fez …

…and this wonderful sculpture in front of the Five Sullivan Brothers Convention Center. I got to wondering about the Sullivans: Were they local mavens of commerce? A comedy troupe, perhaps? Sadly, no. A little research revealed that they were five local siblings, ages 19 thru 27, who served together on the USS Juneau in WWII and were all killed when the ship was attacked in 1942. The armed forces usually didn’t allow siblings to serve together, but the Sullivans had insisted on it.

Waterloo and neighboring Cedar Falls, a college town, have a pretty impressive network of bicycle trails, and we rode over 20 miles through the parks and suburbs and along the river. (Trail maps and other local resources are available at the Chamber of Commerce—on Main Street just south of the Cedar River—and just down the road at an old gas station that’s been converted into a tourist-information kiosk.)
Main Street in Cedar Falls has undergone an amazing transformation in the last few years. The sidewalks have been upgraded with new trees, benches and bike racks, and shops and restaurants have multiplied. Cup of Joe, a coffeehouse conveniently located at the nexus of the bike trails by the river, was celebrating its eleventh anniversary on the day of our visit, and the proprietor felt very fortunate to have staked a claim on Main Street well ahead of the rush. The coffeehouse is blessed with a perfect location, great java, a friendly staff, and an incredible collection of early-‘60s Danish Modern furniture.
Directly across the street is the recently-restored Cotton Theatre. Now renamed the Oster Regent, it presents live entertainment.
A few doors down, the historic Blackhawk Hotel offers quaint-yet-classy accommodations.
Main Street also offers a wide variety of restaurants, many of which are run by the multi-concept Barmuda chain—we had dinner at Beck’s Sports Grill, which is also a microbrewery. There’s also a bike shop, a handsome modern library, an array of public sculpture, and—just a few steps off of Main on 4th Street—a vintage Maid-Rite Sandwich Shop, serving loose-meat burgers Midwestern style.

A little further out in suburban Cedar Falls, my eye was caught by the vintage neon at the Panther Lounge and the venerable Maple Lanes. I wish I’d had time to check out the Imperial Lounge, or at least go into the bowling alley and see if the interior was as retro-fabulous as the exterior! (There are NO photos on their website, unfortunately.) Among all the sights we saw in the Cedar Falls/Waterloo area, I’d say the place most deserving of the Mid-Century Dream “Don’t Go Changin’” award is downtown Waterloo’s Newton’s Jewelers. Now THAT’S some undeniable signage!
We had to get going before we could explore the town any further. Fortunately, someone with a little more time to spend in Waterloo (and other Iowa cities) has documented it more extensively: http://www.absolutedsm.com/waterloo_photo_page.htm

NEXT INSTALLMENT: Waterloo to Minneapolis.

UPDATE: Reader Aaron Bolton shares news that Newton's is closing after 93 years. The owner is pursuing other jewelry-related endeavors that afford her greater opportunity to travel. I can respect that, obviously! Now, anybody got a good home for a two-story-tall neon sign?

See, it's not just me

Since I brought it up a few months ago, I was pleased to see that a sorta-well-respected music site is with me on the Sufjan thing: Check out Stephen Thomas Erlewine's well-considered article at www.allmusic.com.

Cape Girardeau: Broadway

While Main Street, paralleling the Mississippi River and its elaborate levee murals, attracts tourists, the earthier east-west Broadway artery is where you’re more likely to see a pregnant teenager pushing a stroller and smoking. It used to be the more glamorous street, however: Main Street was where the department stores were, and Broadway had the hotels, restaurants and movie theaters. Now, while the movie theaters are all shuttered and the restaurants have given way to junk shops, the old MARQUETTE HOTEL is leading a Broadway revival.

Built in 1928, the Marquette was a respectable destination for about half a century. As the chain motels out by the interstate took more and more of travelers’ business, the downtown hotels closed and fell into disrepair. The Marquette was threatened with demolition in the ‘90s, but recently rebounded as a freshly-rehabbed tower of apartments and offices.

When I first saw and photographed the Marquette in the mid-‘90s, it was at its lowest point. Through the dusty glass doors I saw a once-proud lobby littered with dirty mattresses and other debris, and the neon signs were broken and rusty.

To me, the most intriguing part of the Marquette was the storefront at its southeast corner. THAD BULLOCK'S PIANO SALON had obviously been out of business for a while; the instruments I could see through the window had keys like crooked teeth, and the newest song I could see on a display of sheet music was “Mama Told Me (Not to Come).” A fast-food soda cup of more recent vintage revealed that someone had recently been inside, however.


As I walked around the back of the building, I saw two old vans bearing Bullock’s name in the parking lot. Both were rusty and had broken windows, and while one was obviously a piano-delivery truck, the other revealed Bullock’s political aspirations. Now I was really curious about this guy, and when I got home I searched the library’s newspaper index for his name and asked former Cape residents about him. The following account was gleaned from St. Louis Post-Dispatch articles and possibly exaggerated anecdotes; any concerned Bullocks who stumble across this text should keep in mind that I present the following not as pure fact, but as a combination of Biographical Thad and Thad-As-Local-Legend.

Thad Bullock was already selling pianos by the 1950s, but he didn’t move his Salon into the Marquette building until later. He purchased the entire building in 1969, by which time it’s reasonable to assume that the hotel’s downward slide had already begun. After the hotel proper closed, the Piano Salon remained in business for quite a while longer while Thad also pursued his political interests. He ran unsuccessfully for Mayor, but eventually gained a seat as a Missouri Representative. He is remembered as a morally-conservative Democrat, a cantankerous-yet-gregarious character who built an organ into a small trailer so he could jam for constituents on the campaign trail. A Cape resident remembers his last Thad sighting: During a downtown parade, Bullock showed up and unlocked his long-shuttered Piano Salon so he could sit in the doorway and watch the festivities from his lawn chair… blissfully unaware, hopefully, that his fly was open the entire time.

Thad Bullock died in 1999, and surviving family members allowed the business deal that brought the Marquette back to life. His name is invoked at the hotel to this day. When, during renovation, an elevator got stuck between floors, a passenger who wrote for the local paper cheerfully blamed “the ghost of Thad Bullock.”

Broadway was the main destination for moviegoers in Cape Girardeau, as it was home to three cinemas up till the early ‘80s. The Rialto (circa 1940) was the first to stop showing movies, but it was renamed the Concord and put to good use by a theater group for the remainder of the decade. The much older BROADWAY THEATRE closed down around 1960, but was remodeled (with the hideous aluminum façade seen below) a decade later by the Kerasotes chain. It became a church in the ‘80s, but returned to the movie business for a while in the ‘90s. Now closed and used for storage, the Broadway has a lobby full of random junk and a bunch of broken, boarded-up windows.

The last cinema to open on Broadway was 1947’s visually arresting ESQUIRE. Its Streamline Moderne façade has held up extremely well, despite many years of vacancy interspersed with stints as a church and a nightclub. Like the Broadway, the Esquire is supposedly in line for renovation.


Other nostalgic sights along Broadway include WALTHER'S, a former undertaker/furniture store currently awaiting a new tenant…

BOB'S SHOE REPAIR is hard to miss, with its giant boot.
SHIVELBINE'S music store is still going strong, as is its two-story-tall rotating sign—which, encouragingly, still rotates.


BEARD'S SPORTS SHOP closed in 2003 after 44 years in business, but the shop’s new tenant allowed Beard’s distinctive metal fish to remain on the façade.

Then there’s KEN'S CAPE CLEANERS, because superheroes get dirty too.

While Cape Girardeau has its touristy side, it’s also a college town—and Southeast Missouri State University has attracted plenty of student-friendly businesses to a particular stretch of Broadway. Pizza parlors, sandwich shops and bars prosper near the campus. Cape Girardeau, I’m told, is also home to the second oldest gay bar in Missouri.

Another old business district in Cape is located along GOOD HOPE STREET on the south side of downtown. For years it was home to the (razed) Orpheum Theater and a host of restaurants, stores and taverns. These days it appears to be a down-at-the-heels African-American district, characterized by empty storefronts and occasional violence (a successful nightclub recently closed its doors after a murder occurred on the property).


When I’m perusing old city directories at local libraries, I always try to find the oldest operating restaurant and the oldest operating tavern in town. I was a little disappointed to find only one bar that had lasted fifty years: ED'S, on Good Hope. The 2000 Polk Directory indicated that the name had been changed to “JB Taverne,” but when I drove by in May 2006, Ed’s was still the only name visible. I later found out—via the Southeast Missourian’s invaluable “Century of Commerce” feature—that the Corner Pub (renamed Al’s Place), dating back to 1910, is actually the town’s oldest bar. But you still gotta love Ed’s great old neon sign!

Other eye-catching south side items are this handsome neon “Alinement” sign (photographed in 2003) and the stunning new BILL EMERSON MEMORIAL BRIDGE over the Mississippi.
(Get more info on this bridge at this site, which I discovered moments ago—and which I’m sure will keep me plenty busy in the future.) I took these pictures shortly after the demolition in September 2004, when the Illinois approach lay broken on the bank (I swear I heard creepy carousel music coming from the nearby woods while snapping photos) and the decorative arch at the Missouri side was still standing. (Actually, I hope they kept this nice little remnant; I forgot to check when I was there earlier this week.)

This probably won't be my last post on Cape Girardeau; due to time constraints, I neglected to check local history books for vintage photos, and I completely forgot to get a shot of the local house that looks like an ocean liner. It's a pretty big town, and I haven't even explored downtown in its entirety, let alone the mid-century beginnings of suburban Cape. In the meantime, here are a couple of valuable resources from the fantastic Southeast Missourian website: A register of local landmarks and a "Century of Commerce" review. I didn't discover these until after my visit, so I'll be sure to take advantage of all this information next time I'm down that way.

Cape Girardeau: Main Street

When Billy Bragg came through town a few years ago, he spent a couple of minutes between songs lecturing us on the proper pronunciation of some Missouri place names. He had apparently been dismayed to hear some locals talking about "Cape Jer-AR-dough" while any sensible Frenchman would, of course, say "Cap Zheer-ah-DOUGH." He was all worked up because the Berlin Wall had come down earlier that day, so we gave him some slack.

LIke a lot of Mississippi River towns, Cape (as it's informally known) has a good deal of French heritage. You can catch up on the early years at the city's official website, and peep some more recent changes on MCD's unofficial tour of the commercial landscape...starting right here.

In pre-suburban days, Cape had three fairly distinct business districts, each of which has developed its own flavor over the last fifty years.

MAIN STREET has become a haven for tourists, offering galleries, antique shops and restaurants (including the Buckner Brewery, in a converted department store) just a block away from the impressive murals that cover the levee. Traditional businesses like drugstores and clothiers have quietly closed up or moved to the suburbs, but a storefront never remains idle for long. While the occupancy rate is impressive, a little bit of flavor disappears every time a business changes hands. Below are three eye-catching Main Street storefronts that have either gone through major changes since my last visit, or are about to. HECHT'S was an upscale women's clothing store that went out of business (due to retirement, not diminishing dividends) last fall after nearly 90 years in the same location--and what a location! The storefront boasted custom logo tile, plenty of display windows, and a slightly naughty ceiling mural--all of which are still in place as the building awaits a new tenant. Gone, unfortunately, is the one-of-a-kind weather vane--shaped like the good ship Mayflower--that came off in a storm and was spirited away by a scavenger.
The photo on the left was taken in May 2003, as the mannequins were being changed. Three years later, the lack of lighting in the empty cases lets the natural greenish color of the glass tint the entire foyer.

Another then-and-now juxtaposition is a little more dramatic: When HALE'S JEWELRY went out of business and the shop next door expanded into its old quarters, Hale's distinctive signage--including custom door handles--was removed. The mid-century facade of LANG'S, another shuttered jewelry store, probably isn't long for this world; history-happy tourist towns like Cape Girardeau are pretty eager to wipe away any post-Victorian frippery that's accumulated over the last century.

Safe for now is the zingy sign down the street at still-operational ZICKFIELD'S; it almost looks like a modern-day interpretation of classic mid-century signage--or maybe it's just very well-maintained.

Gone but not forgotten are two stores that emblazoned their names on the tile at the front door: SALLE-ANN and THE BOOTERY...

...and I always enjoy finding a remnant of a long-gone department store, like these door handles left over from MONTGOMERY WARD.
One more shot from Main Street: A gorgeous, funky, slightly mysterious sign that would actually look more at home in the earthier Broadway business district...or wherever caucasian kids insist on dressing up like gangstas.
UPDATE: I just learned that the Wiggery, in business on Main Street since 1968, is moving. They'd better take the sign--and if they don't, I want it!!

Next post: Broadway--featuring tremendous boots, abandoned theaters, and Cape's perennial candidate.