Foreign Lands: How Much for that Tomato?

I had a few minutes to spare in the general vicinity of downtown St. Paul, so I went on by to check out the Penfield. Because at the frequency at which I visit downtown St. Paul, it's still something "new" over across the river. At the risk of going a little fanboy (young people still say that, right?), it was great and if I had reason to live abroad in foreign lands, it would be a great place to live. There's a beautiful grocery store right in the building and craft beer and good pizza right across the street.

Even better, there's a nearby ghost sign!

This sign, which reads, "Produce Exchange Bank" and offers residential, auto and real estate loans, is on the side of the Produce Exchange Building. The building apparently dates to 1915 and presumably was the home of the bank. Its seems there used to be a large market next door, and the building was turned into lofts in 2004.

A newspaper called the Chicago Packer reported in December of 1927 that the bank was temporarily closed by state authorities investigating whether its funds were used by the bank's Executive Vice President to dispose of stolen bonds. The bank was involved in a 1942 Minnesota Supreme Court usury case, the facts of which sound a little interesting (there shouldn't be a question whether you borrowed money from the bank or it's president personally), so its seems that the Chicago Packer's concern for the hardship on the city's produce traders should the bank never reopen was premature.

Santo Speranza was the bank president in 1942, and it seems the Speranza family continued with the  bank for some time. Indeed, there's a scholarship at St. Kate's endowed by Mildred Speranza who was president of the bank from 1960-1980. According to the announcement for that stipend, it was a "family bank [that] helped Italian immigrants in the early 20th century secure funding to buy homes and start businesses" and she was one of the first women bank presidents.

Turns out there are interesting stories in the city's past. Who knew?

Here's another shot from flickr, Apparently you can live there. Here's the building sometime before 1920.

They Could Make A Movie (Probably Called "Madison")

Try control your excitement, people.  I know you never believed we'd get here.  I know this blog has exceeded your expectations in every way, and now, well, now we've finally made it.  That's right.  We made it to post #100.  Who knew there were that many signs to talk about?

So, as it's a nice, round number, we need a landmark.  I've saved a good one.  Okay, so it's not paint on brick, so maybe it doesn't fit exactly (hmm... maybe that says something about how we got here), but it is significant.  It's the building that defined the Minneapolis skyline for years.  If memory serves, it was long the tallest building in Minneapolis.

The Foshay has a bit of a dramatic history.  It was completed in 1929 just a few months before the big stock market crash.  It was the brainchild of Wilbur Foshay, who got rich buying utility companies and planned to move into a multi-level suite at the top of the building.  The building opened to a lavish dedication and featured John Phillip Sousa conducting a specially-commissioned march.  Each guest got a gold watch.  Splendor abounded.

There was only one problem.  Old Wilbur had a secret and, like Bernie Madoff, the onset of the Great Depression exposed him.  His empire collapsed, he never moved into his new home, and the check he used to pay Sousa bounced.  Wilbur was accused of running a Ponzi scheme and charged with fraud.  His first trial ended in a mistrial after one juror, Genevieve Clark, held out for his innocence.  He was convicted and sentenced to 15 years the second time around.

Only later was it discovered the Mrs. Clark's husband knew and had business dealings with Wilbur.  Rather than face obstruction of justice charges, she and her family fled.  The Clarks and their two children were later found dead from intentional carbon monoxide poisoning.

Things are a bit happier in the Foshay these days.  The tower is taken up by the W Hotel and the two-story commercial space at the base houses Manny's, arguably the best steakhouse in town, and Key's, one of the better places for brunch and/or pie.

Even more fitting, the Foshay is framed here by the IDS Center, which replaced it as the tallest building in town in 1972 and the Well Fargo Center (originally, the Norwest Center, and before that the one with the weather ball), built to be technically just shorter than IDS out of Minnesota nice or something.

Foreign Lands: Money Is A Ball

So my re-commitment to the mission didn't last long, but what can I say?  I went into my archive of backlogged Minneapolis signs and wasn't inspired, so it's back to strange and mysterious land of St. Paul.

Minnesotans of a certain age will remember Norwest, which was acquired by Wells Fargo in 1997.  Before there was a consolidated Norwest, Northwestern National Bank was the anchor of a multi-state bank affiliation that dated to the 1920s that helped its members survive the great depression.

I may be wrong, but in my memory Norwest was the first bank in the Twin Cities to offer free checking, which makes me remember it fondly (low bar for positive bank feelings, eh?).  The Norwest logo used to be a common site around town.

As to less common sites, Norwest's "weatherball" in downtown Minneapolis is too good not to include.  I don't have any memory of it, but apparently they had a 157 foot tower on the top of their headquarters, which was largest bank sign between Chicago and the west coast (do you think people stopped to see it after checking out the largest ball of twine?).  At the top was a color-changing ball that would give you a primitive weather forecast.  Minnesotans love a good weather prediction, so the ball grew in popularity until it became central to the bank's marketing (check him out lounging on the beach in the first link of this paragraph).  It was actually popular enough to prompt a local news report in 2007.

Alas, the ball went down with the rest of the bank's headquarters in a destructive fire on Thanksgiving day in 1982.

You can see another shot of the sign on Flickr.

Our Heroic Banking Overlords (never mind the failure)

I'm straying from paint on brick again, but again, I think this is special enough to include. Here we have the former Farmers and Mechanics Savings Bank of Minneapolis, which helpfully tells us it was founded in 1874, with this particular structure going up in 1941. It seems that this is actually the "new" headquarters for the bank, which was previously located in what is now Sheik's strip club according the the city's landmark website. If I was to pretend that I knew something about architecture, I might say that this is Art deco. Wikipedia says I'm right, so I'm still totally willing to teach at your school.

As you can also tell from the photo, the building now houses a Westin Hotel with B.A.N.K. restaurant and bar occupying the main lobby of the old bank. The restaurant preserves much of the space's beauty and grace and makes interesting use of the old vaults.

As for the bank itself, it's no longer with us. It was failing when it was acquired by Marquette Bank in 1982 in a sale assisted by the FDIC. At the time, Marquette Bank was owned by Carl Pohlad, whose family still owns the Minnesota Twins. Marquette was eventually sold to First Bank in 1993, which in turn was later merged into U.S. Bank.

As usual, I'm not the only one whose has taken this picture. There's an additional sculptural element on the east facade as well:

All the fun is located at 6th St. S. and Marquette Ave.