Insert Funky Slap Bass Here

I like this sign, because we're clearly not looking at something from the 1890s here.  Check out those colors.  Check out the graphic design.  That's gotta be the 1970s, right?

You'll not be surprised that an auto repair shop that dates to the latter parts of the 20th century, which looks to have been long closed, does not have a large internet footprint.  That means I can't tell you much about this, so I'll keep it brief.  The Interwebs have documented it at least twice before.

This post brought to you in honor of Art-A-Whirl, which is currently taking place in the Nordeast Arts District, including right next door, I think.

No, Not Verisimilitude

I didn't know it at the time, but apparently I should have refrained from breathing as I biked by this sign.  It's a little faded, but you should be able to read "Western Mineral Products Company" on the bottom.  That's gotta mean that they produce something wholesome like calcium to fortify your children's cereal or maybe delicious, pure mineral water.

Wait, what?  This building at 1720 Madison St. NE, back in the Nordeast Arts District, is a superfund site?  As it turns out, this building was a plant that turned "Libby Ore" from Montana into asbestos insulation from the late 1930s to the late 1980s by heating the ore until it "popped" into fluffy material suitable for insulation. Even better, they used to offer waste "rock" for free to the surrounding community, potentially creating a whole neighborhood of cancerous fun.  While it operated, at least 130,000 tons of the stuff was shipped by rail to this location. The product here was sold under the Zonolite brand, and may well still be in your house.  You'll not be surprised that all this resulted in at least one lawsuit.

The W.R. Grace Company bought this building in 1963.  According to them, they're still enriching lives to this day. The company actually originated in Peru in 1854, where it was founded by William Russel Grace, who fled the potato famine in Ireland.  One has to wonder if he knew what he was getting into.  The Grace company website still seems to have a product sheet for Zonolite, but I don't know if that means it's still available for purchase.

I once heard the "mesothelioma lawyer" was the most expensive ad term you could by from Google.  These folks were apparently a little more specific and decided to go directly for "Western Mineral Products."  I thank them for the background information.

I See Dead People

It's been awhile, but we are back, and we're off in Nordeast again.  I went for a bike ride, and boy was a rewarded.  This is near the old railroad tracks in the "Arts District" again, but this qualifies as a both a cool old sign and a cool old building (see the shot below for the loading dock).  And there are stiffs involved.

The Northwestern Casket Company made... wait for it... boxes in which to intern dead people.  It seems the business is still around, but no longer at this location.  Go check out the history section of their website.  It's got some cool old pictures.  They apparently occupied this location until 2006 when they moved to New Hope.  (No, non-Minnesotans, that's not a Star Wars movie, it's a suburban city).  It was incorporated in mid-1882 and received supplies right off the railroad line and turned them into the most solemn of products. Sadly, they are not accredited by the BBB.

Check out the operations in 1937 and the building, with a covering over the loading dock, in 1974 from the Historical Society.   It's at 1707 Jefferson St. NE.  There are a bunch of cool photos of a 2005 tour here.

Ghost Me Two Times

I'll leave it to you to figure out where this one is.  Have you found it yet?  I knew you could.  You are so smart!

Okay, so, this building has two generations of ghosts, and both seem to be actual ghosts in that at least when I went buy, the place was empty and shuttered.  Up top there you can see it says "Nicollet Technologies."  Given that Joseph Nicollet was French, I assume the technologies his people manufactured here were cheese, wine, and surrendering. (I kid, my French friends!  I know all about the bravery of the intrepid French soldier.  Unless he's had too much wine, of course).

Okay, so that was obvious crap, and Joseph Nicollet wasn't involved.  But that logo just screams, "1980s technology company" so let's see what we can find.  Maybe they made mapping software or something.

Well, look at that.  They make equipment for testing phone lines and were founded in, who woulda guessed, 1986. The company's still around, but apparently they've moved on up to the suburbs, Bloomington, to be specific.  Please judge them accordingly.

So let's stroll around the other side and  check out the other one:

It's the famous Plant No. 8, and that tantalizing sign above it.  It's so close to being legible that it's painful.  But I don't know what it says.  As will become increasingly clear, this seems to be the neighborhood of ambiguous signs (stick around for more).

And with that, my friends, I've gone away.

Ghost Metal!

Some of my favorite signs are from businesses that used to work with metal.  I'm sure there are important differences between what these people do or used to do, but it's all metal to me, baby, so I'm lumping them together.

So, in what is becoming a bit of a pattern, we've got some pretty generic words painted on the side of a wall without much other identifying information (maybe now you know why I've been sitting on these for awhile -- look at those green leaves!).  I'm pretty sure you could get aluminum and bronze-brass from these people, but I really wish they'd just put their last name or something up there too.

I had brief hope for a clue from this shot:

But after studying it, I think it just says, "Ornamental Iron & Steel."  Sorry, no luck.

The building is part of the Nordeast "Arts District" in a largely defunct old industrial area by the railroad tracks.  It's now called the Q.arma Building and houses Altered Esthetics, an arts advocacy organization.  It's at 1224 Quincy St. N.E.