In the Saddle Again

I'm back! It's been rather a long time since I've had a new ghost sign post, primarily because I've largely run out of interesting signs that inspired me to dust off the old laptop and throw up a post. But Andy Sturdevant's Stroll of the week (always good inspiration for new places to explore in the Twin Cities), led me to some new material. I hopped on my bike and started pedaling up North Lyndale.

Okay, so it's not the greatest place to bike in the world. There was nary a bike lane, traffic was relatively swift moving and it turns out that it's pretty much up hill the whole way too. But at least traffic going north was relatively light, so I wasn't left fearing for my life.

More importantly, it led me to a spur of old railroad tracks that I hadn't inspected before. These places are always good for a ghost sign or two, and this one didn't disappoint. Okay, so it didn't really take much inspecting to come across the building shown above, which is pretty prominently on Lyndale right near North 44th Ave.

As you may be able to tell from the realty sign in the front yard (partially obscured by a small tree), the place seems to have been made available for reuse, so I don't think the Machine Specialties Manufacturing Company is still in operation at this location. Nonetheless, it has a Google place page for some reason, so maybe it was operating here not that long ago? Or maybe someone created the page because there's such a prominent sign?

I didn't think I'd learn much by searching for such a generic name, so I went in search of the realty listing to see if maybe they knew something about the history of this building. Apparently history is not a big selling point when you're trying to move tens of thousands of square feet of industrial space, but this offering document (pdf) does contain some interior pictures of the office space. They are both interesting in the sense that now you know what it looks like on the inside and uninteresting in the sense that they aren't very interesting at all. If you know what I mean.

But that document does give us a clue in that we now know that the property's seller is Zimmerschied, Inc., which leads us to its president, John Zimmerschied, telling the Business Journal back in 2004 that high steel prices and foreign competition were driving his small machine shop out of business. Apparently they made parts for equipment that is used to unload grain barges.

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."

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.

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.

Presumably Not Hand-Stolen In Stepney

The Vikings stadium saga is in the news again, so let's head back to the Metrodome neighborhood. This one is in the immediate vicinity of the hide and pelt dealer and the roller company. It looks to me like there are multiple layers of signs here, but they are rather hard to make out.

Most legible to me is "Jones Purchasing Agency" at the top of the sign. The Downtown Journal, having beaten me to the ghost hunting punch by more than a few years, mentions this particular sign but doesn't give any history. Sadly, I've not got too much else either, but the intervening years mean I get to take advantage of Google Books. And the company whose stated mission is to organize all the world's information has something for me. It seems that city records show that the agency proposed to provide a cement mixer to the city in Feb., 1911. So I guess they sold stuff. Who knew?

As long as I can remember, this has been a store selling sports souvenirs. I've never been in, but I'd always wondered how much business they actually get. Do people really cross the street from the dome to pick up a t-shirt? I guess I'm just not the type who buys a lots of commemorative crap...er.. I mean gear.

Explanation of the title here.

Legal Eagle Update

So, some antitrust lawyer I am, apparently. While I was wandering around the old factories near the railroad tracks and trying to research the history of Electric Machinery Manufacturing Company, its successor company was in the midst of an antitrust investigation of it's acquisition by GE (they bring good things to life).

The result of that investigation is a consent decree with the Department of Justice that requires GE to divest Converteam's Minneapolis facility. While it's not the one I snapped (as I said, it has been converted), it isn't far away.

I didn't even know there was a deal, but I guess it explains why I had a page view from someone in the UK googling "converteam minneapolis."

Anyway, it's a small world and I thought I'd share.

There's No Crying In Roller Derby

Buildings' uses changes over time, and so do their signs. Right around the corner from the one for the gruesome collectors of animal bits, on the same building, we have Bingham Rollers. That's right, the famous champion of the 1920s and all time roller-derby great, Gloria Bingham, and her rag-tag band of bone-crushing compatriots used to have their offices here, conveniently next door to the Metrodome.

Either that or they used to sell rubber-coated rollers (sounds kinda naughty, right?) here. I'm guessing about the "sell" part because it isn't a very big building, so it doesn't really seem like a manufacturing facility. I think this company was Samuel Bingham Rollers, which had a 175 year history before being acquired by Finzer Roller in 2004. Or maybe it was just paid advertising. Unfortunately, the folks who wrote the press release really weren't interested in telling us much about Bingham, nor does it seem likely that they had antitrust counsel involved.

You can see both this one and Mack, May Co. on Flickr.

Less Irritating In The Throat

So, I guess what the good people at the Electric Machinery Manufacturing Company did during their working hours is pretty obvious. That's right, they were a marketing consulting firm that advised clients on effective branding. Their founding philosophy was picking a name that completely obscured what you really do (I'm looking at you, Altria), to create a sense of exotic mystery that truly entrances customers. The size of the abandoned building they left behind is pure evidence of the success of their strategy.

Okay, so, maybe that's bunk. It seems they made really big round machinery thingies, at least in the 1920s. A successor company still seems to be out there, now called Converteam (hmm... wonder if any branding consultants were involved). And the building isn't actually empty having been converted to office/studio space like a number of other old factories in the area (more to come).

The company was founded in 1891 as a service shop before moving into manufacturing and designing custom-engineered motors and generators. It seems to me that they make big custom motors for big industrial processes.

I could actually read this one while standing there on the street, but it's a little hard to see on the front of the building:

The Guys From Winger Could Probably Help

I couldn't get too close to this one, and was limited to iPhone photography as I was on my bike, but I've started to venture a tiny bit out of the downtown core. This one is visible from the west bank Mississippi bike path, and drew me a tiny bit west and across the railroad tracks. This is and was a highly industrial area. The building abuts the tracks and says both "Diamond Iron Works Inc." and "Mahr Mfg. Company."

The first apparently dates to the 1880s as a repair shop for saw mill, flour mill and other industrial machinery. The company apparently assembled machinery and crushers to be sold under the brand names of others.

The second apparently was a division of the former that was active from 1937 to 1953. The historical society has a good picture from 1954 with sings for the company prominently on display. I'm not sure that this is the same location, but there is also a good one of Mahr furnaces loaded on a rail car from 1922 and a shop interior from 1926. Today it is K&K metal recycling.

Addenda

So as it turns out, going by more than once (and in better weather) can prove fruitful and enlightening. A closer look at the front (which is likely hard for you to read but is clearer here) says that Witt's is actually Witt's Market House. The historical society gives us a cool shot of some ladies shopping for meat at the market around 1942. Like grocery shopping, one should not blog about meat while hungry. Especially as Witt's, which at the time had six market locations, was convicted of food safety violations in 1932 relating to fresh meat, before reason and the state Supreme Court saved the day.

Here's another picture from that era, of customers in standing in line outside, showing the street cars and the view across the street. I'm guessing the volume of people means that there was war-time rationing going on. This triptych from 1923 may show a glimpse of the sign, and here's the store with a new paint job in 1948.

Here's a Witt's ad from a 1901 Minneapolis Journal that's just too cool of an interweb find not to share. Anyone want 5 pounds of butter for $1? Going back even earlier, I have to wonder whether the store was an outgrowth of Witt's stockyard and slaughterhouse, which was established in Crystal Lake (now Crystal) in 1879.

This rather random website may explain the over-painted "L" word in that it describes someone with the last name "Lash" as having been a baker at Witt's. I've not yet been able to find what became of Witt's, but I have to run, so I will leave with the speculation that perhaps Mr. Lash took over for the Witt family and repainted the sign.

Finally, here's the fourth Commutator Foundry sign that I missed the first time around:

And They Complain About The Browns

Another Minneapolis riverfront icon, and this one involves at least a bit of paint on masonry. The North Star Woolen Mill Company built this textile mill in 1864 as part of an effort to establish the industry near St. Anthony Falls, with its long and prosperous tradition of milling. By 1925 it was nations largest manufacturer of woolen blankets.

You'll not be surprised that there are quite a few images out there. I also found this cool mother's day blanket ad from 1946.

The company moved to Ohio in 1949 and the building sat empty for nearly 50 years. It was turned into condos in what I think was one of the city's earlier loft conversions in 1988-89. It's a personal favorite and when shopping for housing I was sorely tempted to buy here. Had I done so, I would have had my very own ghost sign, immediately below my balcony:

If you can read it, you know it's located at 109 Portland Ave. S.

Tidying Up

There's little left to be found about the The Ideal Broom & Brush Factory, in the alley between 1st & 2nd Avenues and 3rd & 4th St. Even the building itself seems to be completely abandoned. The front of the building has a faded awning that says, "The New French Bar" that definitely doesn't look, well, new.

Aside from a few Flickr photos (one of which tempts me to steal a line about Dickensian street urchins), I don't know much about this company or from where in the mists of time this comes to us. Instead I will give you a two cool Historical Society photos of a fire and its aftermath in 1937 at the Ideal Laundry that was a few blocks away, which had a cool sign of its own at the time.

Industrial Product Selling Company Inc.

Right across the intersection from Commutator Foundry, is a mysterious distributor of unknown products at 200 N. 1st St. Writing On The Wall caught the Visitor Parking and Shipping signs on the 2nd Ave. side of the building, so we know they had visitors and they shipped stuff. You can also see that significant renovation work has been done since WOTW came buy, and the building encouragingly looks close to returning to productive use.

Actually, Google Street View has outdone me, as you can actually see that it says Coal Burning Equipment Company on 2nd Ave. as well. I'm not sure how I missed that, but perhaps I will have to go by again. Of course, a name that generic doesn't do much to help us learn about its past either.

Edited to add: Vindication! The identifying sign is currently covered up and illegible:

Foundering

This might be my favorite. The combination of the clarity of the signs and the period authenticity of the building compels you to wonder about its history. There are signs on at least three sides (I guess there's actually a fourth one I missed) and the building is the subject of quite a few pics on the interwebs. The historical society has two shots, one of which is clearly dated to 1936.

I've not found a ton on the company behind the signs, but here is an interesting article from the Downtown Journal (via Writing on the Wall) from 2004. It's primarily about the building's then (and current?) owner, who at the time promised to preserve the building without renovation for some time. It looks like he's kept that promise. I was surprised, though, at the implication that the foundry apparently was in operation until 1979, when the gentleman in the profile purchased the building.

Apparently a commutator is a type of switch for certain types of motors. It's also a mathematical term (that I don't understand). I'll leave it to you to decide which inspired the name. I'll also leave you with one last shot:

You can find them all at 125 1st St. N.

Would You Like Fries With That?

This sign takes us into the Warehouse District, and into territory that's already been covered by Writing On The Wall. The lower part of this sign is for Cliquot Club, which WOTW says is a brand of soft drink that was absorbed into Canada Dry. The brand apparently dates to the 1880s, and once included a vast bottling and distribution network before fading away in the 1960s.

I'm also interested, however, in the top part of the sign, for Landy Packing. The company or its affiliate rendering plant seems to have been the subject of a noxious fume complaint in St. Cloud in 1968 (pdf), and the subject of fairly strong criticism from the 8th Cir. in 1980 for its inconsistent efforts to delay the resolution of a labor dispute resulting in an adverse award. I've not been able to find what became of the company, but if there was a rendering operation downtown, my nose and I are not unhappy that it's gone. Someone might want to tell this Chinese maker of packaging materials about the association, though.

This one is at 417 N. 2nd Ave., and here's another shot from a different source.

Holden #2

This is the other side of the the building. A walk by last night reminds me that the building seems currently to be unoccupied.

ETA: A bit of poking around on the Minnesota Historical Society website suggests that in an even earlier incarnation, this building housed the Sturr-Bullard Motor Company, consistent with this area's past of Minneapolis's Automotive District.

Update:  Construction is well underway for the "summer" opening of a Lunds wine and spirits shop.  The good folks at Lund's tell us that the building is known as the Sturr-Bullard Motor Company Building and was built in 1914. Even better, it appears they are going to preserve the signs (at least so far).  Good for Lund's!

Inaugural Sign

This blog's very first sign is nearby your humble blogger's home, and is one of the pair of signs on either side of the building at 1208 Harmon Place.

As is reasonably legible in the sign, it's for H.A. Holden Inc., apparently a maker of electric motors and parts. As of this writing, a 1953 product catalog is up for auction on eBay. Holden was apparently acquired by Genuine Parts in 1999, although the press release for the completion of that transaction suggests that the company wasn't founded until 1954.

My alloted time for internet search on the history of this sign as expired without turning up much more that's worth reporting, but regardless, this sign is a fitting place to start in exploring what can be learned about the history of a former industrial town from the ghosts left in paint on some of it's older remaining walls.

Update:  Construction is well underway for the "summer" opening of a Lunds wine and spirits shop.  The good folks at Lund's tell us that the building is known as the Sturr-Bullard Motor Company Building and was built in 1914. Even better, it appears they are going to preserve the signs (at least so far).  Good for Lund's!