Foreign Lands: Company Town?

I spent a recent Friday morning wandering around the older-looking parts of Sioux City, Iowa, in oppressive heat, and, surprise, I found more than a few ghost signs.  As it turned out, however, an overwhelming majority of them, on multiple buildings, were from a single company.  So, rather than risk turning this place into Ghost Signs of a Single Company of Sioux City, I'm going to bundle all the signs for them in a single post.  Prepare yourselves, people, as this is going to be a longer post (at least in terms of number of pictures).  I may even try to add a new trick to my magic blogging bag too.

I judged the picture up top there as the best of them, so, let's all take a moment to enjoy its beauty and clarity.  We don't get a good sign like this every day, Richard (okay, family inside joke there, if you don't get it, my apologies).  You probably have, however, heard of Bekins and seen their big green logo on a side of the truck.  But unless you're some sort of van lines fanboy or something (which probably is a thing), I bet you didn't know that Bekins was founded right here in River Ci... er.. Sioux City back in 1891 by brothers Martin and John Bekins.

The sign up top, and the next few below, are from a building wrapped in them just to the west of downtown at 4th St. and Wesley Parkway.  The one up top faces south and should be visible as you travel up Wesley.  This one's on the back, facing up the hill:

Once again, we're reminded how the fireproof thing seemed to be a point of advertising distinction back in the day.  There must have been fire everywhere.  If it was still there, we could have stopped in at the office at 419 4th St. to inquire, but alas, that's a Hom Furniture store now.

And with that, before this post gets so long as to take over the entire front page, let's try for some of that blogging magic.  Follow me after the jump, assuming I can figure out how to add one, pretty please.

I Need A Nap

It's tantalizingly close to being legible. Obviously, they sold box springs, studio lounges (whatever that is) and spring filled mattresses. It may now be Twin Cities Paper Supply, and they may have obscured the sign on purpose (if so, a pox on them I say!).

I was about to give up, but I think I've got it! It's Land-O-Nod! (From the stuff-o-stuff school of branding, with at least one other local adherent). Google delivered that much, but having figured that out, I've not got all that much more to say. They apparently made mattresses (who woulda thunk) and got a trademark in 1965 for "chiropractic" that resulted in litigation with their rivals and an 8th Cir. opinion in 1983. I don't know what happened to them, but given that I haven't heard of them, they probably didn't last too much longer after that.

You can see what might have been a factory, warehouse or just show room at the intersection of Broadway and Tyler near Central NE.

Foreign Lands: Its Own Juvenile Joke

I still have a backlog of Minneapolis signs, and many neighborhoods left to explore, but some day those resources will be exhausted, and it's fun to explore other places too, so I'm going to occasionally bring you signs from foreign lands. This one is truly exotic, from strange and alien confines of downtown St. Paul. If any of you are ever brave enough to venture there yourselves, come prepared, it's truly the wild, um, east.

I remember radio ads for Butwinick's from my childhood. As you can imagine, it's a name that a tween would remember. I'm surprised I've not found more about the store's history on the internet, but Writing On The Wall says it was in operation from the '30s to the '90s. I'm guessing that its closure was just before everything started getting documented digitally on the web. Apparently a scion of the family now owns a mattress store.

From the Historical Society's photo archives we learn that Butwinick's store had a fire in 1949, which led to a big sale that drew a big crowd. And here's another shot from Flickr.

The sign's on the corner of 7th and Sibley, which looks like it's actually a few doors down from the original store.

Anyone Need A Box?

There once lived an undertaker named P.O. Melby, apparently, who had a sign painted on the side of a building. There's another word underneath the ghoulish announcement of his main trade, but I can't really read it. At least one Flickr user who also captured this sign says it's "furniture." It's a bit clearer in the photo, so I guess that's right. Perhaps there weren't enough dead people around in those days so Mr. Melby needed to sidelight in furniture. Or maybe he sold whatever kind of furniture that an undertaker of that age would need to buy (how's that for specialization). If the former, I'm not sure I'd want to shop for a sofa amongst the caskets and other tools of Mr. Melby's trade.

Anyway, I've not found much about P.O. Melby and his business. There was an embalmer with the name of Melby licensed in Illinois in 1913, but that doesn't seem to be our guy. There's a Si Melby Hall at Augsburg, but I haven't been able to connect him to either pro wrestling or preparations for eternal slumber. There also is (or was) and dorm called Agnes Melby Hall at St. Olaf, which allegedly was haunted. So, having found a ghost with a superficial tangential relationship to our sign, I guess I'll rest.

Of course, as soon as I've penned a few lines that amuse me (which I now steadfastly refuse to delete), I find a bit about our man. Peter O. Melby immigrated from Norway and ran his undertaking and cabinet making business from this location for 34 years until his death in 1921. That likely makes this sign 100 years old or more.

The spooky fun begins at 1101 S. Washington Ave., which is now Spill The Wine and was once Frank's Plumbing supply.

Age Is Relative

It's hard to tell, but this one may not be all that old. It says "The Unpainted Place" and it's on the back of what is now Utrecht's art supply at 1601 Maple Street.