The Damper Flapper

It's post #120, so that means we need a landmark.  As seems to be a developing pattern, I don't have paint on brick for one, but I do have one that visitors to town are likely to see.  In fact, I've been seeing this one while driving north on 35W toward downtown for years.  And yet it retained some amount of mystery because despite being readily visible it's sort of in an out of the way neighborhood tucked in next to the freeway.

So, one day, I went looking for it.  From the highway, you can see the clearly-marked smokestack above, but you can also see the big "Wells Fargo Home Mortgage" sign on the neighboring office building.  I thought that meant that the two companies existed in close proximity, but I was wrong.  This is no longer a Honeywell facility.  It just says that on the sign.  So, I guess that means it's a legit ghost.

Honeywell is one of those company's that, if you grew up in the Twin Cities, you had friends whose parents worked there.  It's a step beyond household name.  So much so that I always thought my former colleagues helping to prevent the GE/Honeywell merger awhile back meant that it would remain a Minnesota-based company.  But it seems I'm wrong and the company has its headquarters in Morristown, New Jersey.  It seems a 1999 merger already moved it away.

Nonetheless, the next shot gives us a glimpse into its real origins:

In case you can't read it, the sign says "The Minneapolis Honeywell Regulator Co., 1885-1928."  The company's history starts with a man named Albert Butz inventing a means of regulating the temperature of a coal furnace in 1885.  The precursor of the thermostat was born.  The company didn't get the disappointingly vague, yet geographically specific name of Minneapolis Heat Regulator (see below) until 1898, when the appropriately named R.W. Sweatt bought and renamed it.  A merger with Mark Honeywell's company in 1927 led to the name in the sign above.

You can't really read it, a the sun wasn't cooperating with my photography, but the top of the tower below says, "Minneapolis Heat Regulator."

Their Mother Wasn't A Hamster

This one might have been obscure and mysterious to non-Midwest readers before Kal Penn started working for the Obama administration.  But president "hopey changey" ruined it all.  How's that working out for ya?

Um, yeah.  Okay.  So, if you happen to be a munchy-fiending stoner, don't head to this place.  I mean, it's still a white castle and all (check out those crenelations), but it's been awhile since it was a White Castle.  Mr. R.L. McPeck may sell stuff by the sack, but it sure sounds like it will run you a lot more than 5 cents per item.

White Castle has a proud Midwestern tradition, although its origins are farther south than Minnesota, even though opening in 1926 in St. Paul isn't bad.  It seems that the building in this picture is No. 8, dating to 1936.

I've not had White Castle in many years, but my personal memories date to my father talking about stopping in with his band mates for late night snacks after playing his trumpet at dance gigs, that same father trying to subject the frozen variety on my brother and me at lunch, and my crew mates gorging themselves when I worked a summer for the county public works department.

I'd say that I should go back of nostalgia sake, but, um, no thanks.

Local Tip: Stay Away From Vulcans

Cedar Lake Ice & Fuel Co. has been blogged before.  Our blogging friend seems to have done the internet research back in 2008, so I'm going to keep this brief.  I'm not exactly sure why, but apparently Hidden Beach, a formerly nude beach on Cedar Lake is involved, so how could I not mention it?'

I've not got a ton on the company itself, but they seem to have dealt in ice, coke, coal and oil.  Presumably they helped you keep your house warm in the winter and your custard cold in the ice box year-round.  The Strib pulled together an awesome collection of photos from 1947 of the harvesting of ice on Cedar Lake not too long ago.  I would guess it's this company doing the harvesting, but it doesn't explicitly say.  That post links to even older coverage from 1890.  Click both links and check out the really cool, and cold, old pictures.

This building is on Nicollet between 25th and 26th, on what locals like to call "Eat Street," and now houses Vertical Endeavors, where you can go rock climbing.

Here's another shot of the sign from Flickr.  The local press was/is on top of redevelopment efforts.

I'm Not Even Supposed To Be Here Today!

After reading the article I linked to in yesterday's post, about how Bloomington Avenue between Franklin and Lake used to be one of the city's most troubled streets, I got to thinking about the fact that I chose to walk on it precisely because it seemed less sketchy than some of the surrounding area.  I was curious about whether the renaissance that was projected in 2003 was real, or whether the bursting of the housing bubble set the neighborhood back.  There was only one way to find out.  That's right, I needed to give it another pass in the middle of the day on a bright, sunny, weekend afternoon.  Don't pretend that you don't know that's when the real heavy sh*t goes down.

Conveniently, having put in a hard half hour's worth of blogging, I decided that I should go get some beer (is there ever a bad time?) and headed over to Harriet Brewing to bolster my hipster street cred (only to undermine it again by not buying anything because they only had the West Side "Belgian" IPA which is way too hoppy for my taste even though I love Beligian beer and have never encountered anything from Belgium that is that heavy in hops).  I've brought home growlers from Harriet at least a half dozens times, but still I can never figure out the most efficient way to get there from my house.  But now that I know that Bloomington connects Franklin and Lake, I figured why not swing by and see how things are going, and then hook a left on Lake to get some tasty beverage?

So, I guess I won't keep you in suspense any longer.  Things looked fine.  I didn't see any noticeable prostitution or drug dealing, so, you know, yay! for urban redevelopment. (ETA: Apparently the heavy stuff was on the other side of town that afternoon.)

I did, however, find out that I had been delinquent on my last trip because I didn't even notice, much less snap, this sign that's just down the block from Welna's.  It's on the side of the NAWAYEE Center School, and alternative high school focused on American Indian youth.  With my priorities clearly focused on beer, I didn't bother to get out of the car to take this picture, which unfortunately means that it's a little hard to read (ah, the limitations of iPhone photography on an outdated phone).

But if you look closely you can see that it says "John A. Dalsin and Son" and "Sheet Metal And Roofing Contractors."  Turns out, the company's still around, or was whenever that website was built.  We are apparently on the third generation of Dalsin's, and the company dates to 1912. The Historical Society has a photo of the installation of shelves at a Dalsin Hardware at this address in 1949.  Finally, it seems our Mr. John A. Dalsin purchased some land somewhere in Minneapolis for $2,400 in 1906, but I don't know if that lot in "Petter's addition" is this property.

There is no word on Mr. Daslin's views about the innocence of the roofers who were slaughtered upon the destruction of the second Death Star.

Yeah, You Blend

Here we have Welna Hardware in the Phillips neighborhood on Bloomington Avenue in South Minneapolis.  There's not much mystery to this sign, and there is a newer, larger version of the store across the street.  But for now the old store and its old sign are preserved, if somewhat under-utilized (it seemed to be only used for storage when I went by).  The store was apparently in this building for at least fifty years before remodeling the new building across the street, although the building has gotta be older than that.  Back in 2003, MPR described this street as one of Minneapolis's most rundown and crime infested, with the remodeled Welna's as part of its renaissance.  I didn't see any overt prostitution or drug selling when I went buy one weekend in the early afternoon, but it still didn't feel like the greatest neighborhood for a stroll to me.

I got this one after wandering a bit too much in the 'hood.  While crossing through the park at the Cedar Avenue Fields, a young gentleman, after asking me for a cigarette that I didn't have, decided that I was with the police.  He announced to people in the park, "don't f*ck with that n*****, he's a narc").  It didn't really seem like anyone was preparing to f with me, and I really think I would make for a crappy undercover cop in a predominantly Native American neighborhood, but whatever.  It gets the blood flowing, you know.

ETA:  Upon further reflection, the young gentleman in question may actually have asked me if I "smoked."  Only after thinking about it yesterday did it occur to me that he probably did not mean cigarettes, and that his interest in the question may not have been solely driven out of curiosity.  Hmm.  Another way in which I did not blend, I guess.

It Was Fine Until The Giant Pool Of Money Came Along

This one intrigued me because I really couldn't make out what it said on the street, or in looking at the photo in my collection several times since. But I think I've got it now. Unfortunately, we are missing the identifying information, so there won't be all that much to say, but what is there says, "Seller of Real Estate And Loans."

The sign is on what looks like a row house that has lost it's neighbors on 26th St. E. There's a date on the front of the building that says 1887, so perhaps this is a hint of a real estate boom of the past.