Livin' It Up Until We Hit The Ground

I've got some more foreign signs to work through in the backlog, not a few of which are from trucking and storage, but let's break things up a little and try to stay at home just a bit, so let's head out to Longfellow again.  As I promised, we've got more grain elevators.

The elevator's probably a bit older, but the sign looks to me like it's not from all that far back.  Harvest States should be a familiar brand to those from the Upper Midwest.  Honestly, I'm not entirely sure why, but I've heard of them, which means you should have too.

That said, it doesn't seem to say "Cenex Harvest States," so maybe that means the sign dates from before the merger of those two cooperatives in 1998.  The combined entity calls itself CHS, Inc. now, but it's still headquartered here in Minnesota, in Inver Grove Heights.  I'm not going to go too much into the company's complicated history of combinations and divestitures, but I was surprised to see among the many different transactions that Harvest States owned the Holsum brand.

It's hard to tell, at least to the untrained eye, whether this sort of facility is still in use, but it didn't look like it to me, except maybe as a cell phone tower (I think that's what those vertical rectangular things are).

To The Moon?

If you can read this one, on the side of 708 3rd St., you have better eyesight than I. But lo!, I have a hint for you:

We have some pretty cool-looking stone work, providing a longer-lasting, readable reminder for what the side used to say in paint. And if that's not cool enough for you, check out the front entryway:

So, all this screams, "hey, there used to be a lot of money in this business" to me. It's part of my my agricultural series, and a reminder of how this region made its mark (well, its second mark) off the region's farms.

Emerson Newton, of Batavia, IL, as you can see, built this building in 1904, and, along with its neighbor (coming soon), is on the national register of historic places. Unfortunately, I've got a lot more on the building than on the company.

The historical society has a number of old images, from 1906, 1974 (with a United Warehouse painted on the side, oddly enough), and 1966, with an Allis-Chalmers sign visible on the side. It's not particularly relevant, but it has renewed significance for me because grandfather used to have a farm implement business in Clear Lake, WI. He died years ago, but I learned just last week, at his brother's funeral (just a few days short of 99), he sold Allis Chalmers machinery. So, basically, this means that these guys are sort of the competition, and, therefore, sort of evil.

Throw Some Venison On the Barbie

I promised my own shot of the front of the Deere & Webber building, and I'm a bit short on time, so I'll throw it up quickly here. Perhaps it will give me a chance to make up for the horrific double pun in that post title, for which I've taken some gentle crap on the personal front.

All I'd like to add is that I've recently discovered Bar La Grassa, which is in the building immediately to the left of this photo. If you haven't been, you should go. I looooove the gnocci.

Deere Grylls?

The Deere & Webber Company, according to one source, was an offshoot of John Deere that sold bicycles. Another source identifies it as simply the branch office, or distributor, based here in Minneapolis, providing a trademark or logo used by Deere & Webber in 1880. Deere & Webber may also have made buggies and carriages in the pre-tractor days. The company was apparently named for Christopher Webber (along with Deere of course), who ran Deere interests in Minneapolis from 1881 onward before getting his name in lights in 1893. Collection suits were apparently still being brought in the Deere & Webber name at least as late as 1942. Mr. Webber apparently married into the Deere family and came to have significant positions within the company along with prominence within the Minneapolis community.

This sign is actually on the back of the building, facing 2nd Ave. N. The front of the building, which I will feature with my own picture at some point in the future, is also quite interesting.

Meanwhile Down On The Farm

This building at 312 N. Washington Ave. appears to be mostly empty, although the first floor seemed to be the home of the Institute of Production and Recording. Clearly it was once a farm implement dealer in the heart of downtown Minneapolis. There are two signs for Van Brunt Seeder, founded in the 1850s by inventors of an automated seeding machine. The company was apparently the largest farm implement manufacturer in the world as of 1911, the same year it was consolidated into John Deere. The absence of that famous name may mean that this sign dates to even earlier times.

The other ad is for Milwaukee Harvester Company, which was part of a major consolidation in the farm machinery business in 1902 that formed International Harvester and that was eventually challenged under the federal antitrust laws. The New York Times published a notice of the company's acquisition on August 13, 1902 saying that the buyer was unknown.

Agriculture is still big business in Minnesota, but its place at the heart of our culture is fading. I've watched how the Minnesota State Fair has changed over my lifetime. The machinery part of Machinery Hill keeps shrinking. Farm commodities reports are gone from the local news (although as I don't listen to WCCO anymore, maybe I just miss them). TV isn't dominated by agricultural ads. These signs are a reminder of how central farming used to be.