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Barek Halfhand:
The St Paul Hotel (St Paul MN) and the Orpheum Theater (Omaha NE)
By Barek Halfhand

The summer of 2012 has thus far been the hottest in the Midwest in recorded history and lowest levels rainfall precipitation measured since the mid 30’s, the likes of which were so bad that it prolonged and exacerbated and already deeply depressed economy…the relentless heat and lack of moisture has decimated crops and vegetation in such a large geographic region that the lack of food production is expected to drastically raise prices in the later months of 2012 and well into 2013. Traveling north to Minnesota, the stifling heat transformed what would normally have been a lush and florid ride this time of year, into a bleak and blighted landscape …the yellowing and stunted cornstalks along the brown grass lined highway stood in silent testament to the Sun’s latest scorched earth policy and this frightening sight extended far into northwest Wisconsin and into further into Minnesota… a little more than a week later;  a westward journey through western Illinois, mid-Iowa, Nebraska and ultimately KC MO would prove by personal witness that this agricultural emergency was not limited to the upper Midwest/Great Lakes region ….
The St Paul Hotel and The Orpheus Theater have both weathered the drought and Great Depression of the 30’s and both appear to stand stoically indifferent to the most recent of extreme temperatures and economic tribulations…the first stop; St Paul provided little in the way of relief from hot, arid heat but somehow just being so far north seemed to lessen the severity by suggestion alone …The hotel is located just a short stroll from an elevated boulevard overlooking the Mississippi River and nestled in the center of downtown St Paul where newer, taller buildings now overshadow it but fail to diminish it’s intrigue…
The property where the St. Paul hotel now stands is rife with history itself … from 1871– 1878 stood “The German House” until it was claimed by a fire, from 1871 an new luxury hotel named “The Winsor” occupied the property until time, community growth, ownership changes and inevitable obsolescence paved the way for one of The Winsor’s new proprietors: Lucius P. Ordway to embark upon the most daring, opulent and luxurious hotels to sit on that plot of land and in the City Of St. Paul yet …
Inspired by his own ambitious visions, construction began in 1908 and opened with much fanfare in 1910 …with the intention of mimicking the finer hotels of New York and Chicago, The St. Paul certainly lived up to the challenge … with the décor and European interior designs and the cut stone trim, terra-cotta ornamentation and massive cornice of the exterior it certainly lived up to that expectation …the hotel hosted a variety of notable guests in its illustrious past including:
-1927: A dinner in Charles Lindberg’s honor after he completed his historic trans-Atlantic flight and returning home to St Paul.
-1920’s through 1930’s: St Paul’s top gangster; Leon Gleckman sets up his headquarters in a suite much the way Al Capone did at The Congress in Chicago.
-1937: A young Lawrence Welk begins leading the house band on Saturday nights.

1947: Gene Autry (and horse) stays for eight days while featured at the “World Championship Rodeo” in town that year.

1960: John F. Kennedy visits the hotel preparing for the elections.
The merciless mid-day temperatures created a heat-wave distortion radiating off of the pavement as I fought my way to downtown St. Paul amid endless construction barricades and the resultant traffic jams … I picked a side street that looked to provide a reprieve from the gridlocked expressway and grant me access to the inner city and the ultimately the old hotel …My gamble paid off and I found a parking spot along the river where the elevated street created a parallax view of the opposite river banks…a short walk down a city street brought the unmistakable stone blocks and planter box bottomed windows into view …the pictures linked to the Photobucket album ( below) will provide a good impression of the inside as I feel that in this particular instance words wouldn’t do it justice despite my at times excessive verbosity but needless to say I was awe struck by its grandiose yet  subtle and tasteful décor ..
The rumor is that the specter of young girl likes to loiter in the lobby and is known to be spotted peeking out from behind the furnishings from time to time… while I didn’t spot this elusive phantasm (or even get the notion of one) something interesting did show up in one of the photos (see photo enhancements below) but I make no claims …
The midland plains of Iowa were also in dire straits with little hope of crop revival as of late July/early August… crossing the border into Nebraska I witnessed more of the same.
 Omaha is an old city steeped in history and legend …being a lifelong Chicagoan I sometimes have to chuckle at the comparative sizes of these cities but they each have their own distinct energy signature and feel…the predominately red bricked cobblestone streets are oddly un-annoying thumping beneath the tires but I doubt the inhabitants of this town ever become completely desensitized to them once the nostalgia wears off …
The Orpheum Theater has undergone a few transformations over the years and despite the internecine squabbling in the past within the theater/music community concerning its viability and it’s need for renovation, the old landmark stands proudly downtown with placards posted in its storefront windows advertising upcoming engagements ranging from opera, symphony, Shrek the Musical, Jackson Browne and Jane’s Addiction …getting inside for photos was simply a matter of walking up and asking ...Once inside I was flabbergasted by the beauty I beheld, I was especially appreciative of the huge auditorium; “Slossburg Hall with its massive stage, opulent arched ceiling and inset box seats; the likes of which would have been a favorite of John Wilkes Boothe … from its humble beginning in 1892 as a vaudevillian house, this building has seen much in the way of change both socially and structurally…
The alleged sightings here seem to revolve around the appearance of a 40s era musician that sort of sulks around the side of the stage…the theater management is supposedly tight-lipped about this so I didn’t inquire after I was granted extemporal access for the expressed purpose of photos but the hapless minstrel flashed into corporeal existence as soon as I entered the hall…
 As I made way down the center isle (pausing intermittently for photos) I noticed the man was clasping a violin to his chest and staring at the empty stage with an unmistakably sour expression…moving his direction in a side stepping fashion while taking my snapshots along the length of the parquet, he neither changed expression or seemed to notice my cautious approach …as I sort of sidled up next to him, with all the magnanimity I could muster, I inquired: “Why so gloomy Maestro?”…after a few eternal seconds he responded without turning my direction and with very little in the way of inflection: “I was demoted to second seat violinist, I don’t deserve to be a second seater” …Not being much of a classical music aficionado I simply assumed this was sort of a less coveted or an understudy designation in the orchestra pit …the dour duffer continued: “relegated to the ranks of a back row fiddler “…
“Did your replacement deserve his promotion and can you honestly assert that the choice to reassign you was unwarranted?” I chided in an effort to evoke a more interrogative dialog ….unfortunately his laconically brief response proved the efficacy of my tactic to be lacking…
“I don’t deserve this” …and as I gestured towards the stage to remind him that as a (novice) musician myself; I would feel privileged to perform on such an immaculate stage in ANY capacity, I noticed him vanish from my periphery and he could not be located anywhere on the main floor now…Shrugging in my disappointment that he wasn’t amenable to a conversation and heading back up the center isle (hoping nobody observed me talking to myself down by the stage) I heard a loud crack and muffled grunt overhead …knowing what had occurred, I elected not to look upward as I ducked under his dangling, twitching legs below the balcony railing …


Here are the (compressed to 1MB) photos...some have been slightly sharpened or color enhanced (08-2012)....b 
Orpheuous Theater, & downtown Omaha NE:
http://s790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/Omaha%20NE/

The Paul Hotel/downtown St Paul MN/St Katherine College/ and an old Lutheran cemetery:
http://s790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/Omaha%20NE/St%20Paul%20MN/



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Barek Halfhand:
The Alamo
by Barek Halfhand



http://i790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Alamo/100_4138.jpg


Smack dab in the heart of downtown San Antonio  stands an archaic structure has come to serve as the symbol of Texas pride… the name “Alamo” alone represents an entire lexicon of history, lore, romance and war …on one particularly warm Sunday morning I made my way to south on Texas I 35….
Once downtown I was able to secure a self-park garage for $10.00 which I found quite reasonable compared to the $28-32 dollar a day parking I’m used to in downtown Chicago…The clip clop of horse drawn carriages is an odd sound amid circling traffic the roar of the highway and overpass nearby. The specialty shops, boutiques, special attractions and bars of The River Walk looked great, the Crockett and Menger Hotel on the periphery of the Alamo made for great photos as they both most assuredly are situated on battle grounds …

The square little plot of land bordered by a stone wall literally has a visible aura and once one attempts to fully digest the complexity of the Alamo’s history the vibe there resonates even more …construction on this old mission started in 1724 and was originally named” Mission San Antonio de Valero”… this site saw secularization attempts by the Mexican government which brought about many changes and redistribution of Native American lands granting both Indians and European settlers a home with the promise of  religious conversion to Catholicism  … throughout the next 100 years the tiny mission experienced occupancy by both the Spanish Army and the Mexican army until The Texas Revolution in 1835…

The most famous event in the Alamo’s history (and perhaps Texas history) was of course the 13 days siege that began on February 23, 1836, when the Mexican army led by General Antonio López de Santa Anna attacked the fortified mission and were held at bay by a rag tag regiment of defenders consisting of soldiers, ranchers, doctors, lawyers and eventually volunteers from nearby settlements like Gonzalez Texas…Names like Colonel Travis, David (Davey) Crockett and Jim Bowie (creator of  the Bowie  knife) are  forged into the American collective conscious from that battle but despite the bravery and fierce attempts to defend the Alamo, on March 6, 1836, the Mexican army breached the outer walls and  commenced their relentless attack on the church and Long barrack with cannons captured from the inside…the hand full of  women and children holed up in the church that survived were spared and released eventually  ...the momentum inspired by this ignominious victory by Santa Anna’s army was short lived  and by ordering the execution of 400 of Sam Houston’s newly formed Republic of Texas army after losing a lopsided  battle near what is now La Grange Texas as an ego inflated Santa Anna tailed  Houston’s retreating T.R.A. along the Gulf Coast. The tables turned in favor of Houston and his revenge motivated fighters, the Battle of San Jacinto on April 21, 1836, lasted a whole 18 minutes when Houston’s angered forces surprised Santa Anna’s army taking their afternoon siesta …

Being the early bird that I am the weekend tourism traffic was somewhat sparse at the 10:00 am opening hours posted on The Alamo’s side gate… The old church is now an official Texas State shrine and they even require that gentlemen “remove their hats” upon entry ….the multi ethnic crowd peacefully visiting this historic site seemed to represent a convergent blending of heritage and ideologies that now comprises the contemporary Texas demographic and the tradition of pride that seems to pervade the entire state …It seemed almost incomprehensible that that this peaceful morning scene was the site of such fierce violence and carnage over 176 years ago as people milled about with their families or friends periodically exchanging pleasantries and platitudes with the attendant staff or each other… Eyewitnesses reported between 182 and 257 Texans dead and while that figure is disputed most historians agree that 400–600 Mexicans were killed or wounded or wounded in that epic battle…
There are some fascinating artifacts beneath the glass in one of the buildings…a knife belonging to James Bowie, a musket owned by Davey Crocket, uniforms from the Mexican army, cannon balls, horse-shoes, pistols, daggers, candle holders, canteens, coins cookware and more…There were a few gentlemen dressed in period clothing conversing with the public and showing off their weapons, authentic garb and assorted accoutrements, the IPhone poking out of the shirt pocket of one of them kind of ruined the effect, but no one seemed to care…

Rounding the corner of one of the buildings I noticed one of the guys dressed in his (presumed) historic reenactment gear standing alone in a quiet, shaded spot beneath a tree, away from the main path and the crow. Walking past him I noticed he was staring at the ground and mumbling something while scraping a stick across the ground …

“Taking a break from the tourists?” I asked as before I realized this was not just another volunteer playing dress up…He jerked his head upright and said: “I’m a coward; I was the only one that wouldn’t cross the line!”…I edged a little closer despite the growing agitation and prickly static electricity… “What line?” I asked simply…He looked up again, the pain very plain in his eyes, “ Bill asked that those who would stand and fight with him to cross the line”… he lowered his head again and continued his back and forth scraping motion with the stick…”Bill?” I asked…He looked up again, rather annoyed this time; “Col. William Barrett Travis!” he replied in a suddenly irritated and considerably amplified voice …it didn’t surprise me that a group walking nearby gave no indication of hearing this sudden raspy, angry outburst …lowering his voice he went on; “He requested that those that would stand and fight with him cross over a line he scratched in the ground with his sword…I was the only one that didn’t walk across the line”… looking up; his eyes were welling up with tears …”You’re taking this role playing thing a little too seriously aren’t you?” I asked insouciantly, more to myself than to him and he just stood there blinking …Getting into the spirit of things I tried a new strategy: “As we speak, Santa Anna’s army marches east and there are rumors that they are executing prisoners”… he seemed to straighten up and look at me squarely in the eyes but said nothing …affecting my best (bad) southern drawl I continue;…”I have been dispatched by  Major General Sam Houston to recruit soldiers to fight for the Republic Of Texas  and stop Santa Anna in his tracks.”…He dropped the stick he was holding and began tucking in his oversized shirt and straightening his floppy leather hat …I reached down, picked up his discarded stick and scratched a line in the loose soil before me as I continued: “By the authority of General Houston and by my commissioned rank as a commander … I,  Lt. Colonel Beauregard Halfhand III ask those who will stand with me in battle to cross this line in the sand …or um mud”… Without hesitation or disputation and holding his head high, he clicked his heals and snapped to attention “I will fight by your side in the name of General Houston and for the Republic of Texas” …with a straight legged stride he started towards me and my makeshift line of demarcation …as anticipated he flashed out of existence as soon as he crossed the mark leaving me standing alone beneath a tree saluting idiotically and holding a crooked stick just as a gaggle of tourists rounded the corner and walked past me motioning and giggling ….


Here's the Youtube video:
http://youtu.be/7lzlDaxtxbU


Here are the (compressed to 1MB) photos...some have been slightly sharpened or color enhanced....b

http://s790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Alamo/



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Barek Halfhand:
The Minnesota State School
By Barek Halfhand


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Minnesota is a beautiful state and “Land of a Thousand Lake” is not only a catchy license plate an apt  geographical description …the  tall pines and white barked birches begin to flank the roadway  the farther north past the Twin cities you may venture … trekking towards central state you may even see signs for like “Fargo 170 Miles”  and if your arte traveling with someone as predictably  corny as myself you would likely be subjected to a fusillade of movie lines from “Fargo” replete with exaggerated accents and faux colloquialisms (although I have to admit my Jerry Lundegaard is uncanny) ….

The history Of the Minnesota State School is both complex and intriguing …and while it has in the past been my purview to prattle on about such minutia I felt it would be best to leave that narrative to Harvey Ronglien who, as a ward of the state and a “State School Kid” from 1932 through 1945 has become the site’s unofficial spokesperson (a quick search of his name will yield a wealth of info)…he is also the voice of the “Outdoor Audio tour broadcasted by way of several “audio station transmitters and headphones that you can request in the main office (I’m guessing)...

While the School wasn’t the exclusive reason I was in the area, I have been told not to miss this visit if I was ever close …I was not disappointed …

Built in post-Civil War era 1886. The original title for the institution was; The Minnesota State School for Dependent and Neglected Children…this facility closed in 1970 and become home to The Owatonna city offices ,  a community college satellite campus, a child care program  and  of course the museum…in the far back corner of the lot is a small cemetery ...

Being a lifelong Chicagoan I found it odd that I was not only able to wonder in and out of the main the main building museum unchallenged  but was actually treated to a tour of one of the dorm buildings that skirt the west  side by a delightfully charming, grandmother type lady ...such a refreshing change  from  being curtly challenged by some snobbish curator with nasally voice who seemed just indignant that I would actually have the unmitigated gall to come inside to inquire about a formal tour   (cough-Peabody Estate-cough )…

The sheer enormity of the gothic mansion style main building is awe inspiring on its own but I especially impressed with the “19th Century Norman Romaneque” architectural styling I immediately identified …Okay, it says that on one of the placards but in simple layperson’s terms; “it was pretty cool”…

While this was not necessarily a home for wayward or incorrigibly delinquent children like “Boy’s Town” there was in fact a designated dorm for behaviorally challenged lads (or “bad boys” in pre-political correct dialect)…from what I have gleaned from the tour guide and my own extended research; some of the matron charged collectively with the children’s care could have made Father Flanagan look like a push-over…oddly one of the museum visitors entering the front door while I exited looked suspiciously like Mickey Rooney….

Beyond the undulating hills of the administration building and outlying dorms, in the farthest corner of the property; lies small fenced cemetery dotted with tiny markers … over 30 children died under State guardianship during a 59 year period and 198 are buried there (according to the placard posted at the entrance) …the average age of death was for years old and there were of course a myriad of causes but perhaps the most troubling noted was “Marasmus”; clinically defined as “ a wasting away and emaciation of an infant for no apparent reason”  it is evidently referred to as “a failure to thrive due to lack of love” ( see photo # 100_4060) …

I was the camera’s sole visitor that afternoon save for a stout, ruddy complexioned, woman with short cropped curly blond hair …she seemed to be walking from plot to plot addressing each occupant individually like an overzealous playground monitor or an obsequious nanny …I couldn’t make out what she was saying but the tone was definitely one of admonition …I was sure I got a secured a covert photo of this woman but she didn’t appear in any of the shots I later uploaded to my overburdened laptop…

The entire site is definitely an active location but the sensations were fleeting and nondescript…with the exception of the giggling I heard over me banging my shin on one of the wooden benches in the dorm basement while taking pictures ….


Here's the Youtube video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5pxD7cwxGk


Here are the (compressed to 1MB) photos...some have been slightly sharpened or color enhanced....b
http://s790.photobucket.com/albums/yy188/TheNotoriousMrhalfhand/The%20Minnesota%20State%20School%20And%20More/


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Barek Halfhand:

--- Quote from: Jake on December 14, 2012, 04:03:33 PM ---Quick question: Is your material released here (as per Monstrous' express T&C) as Public Domain?

--- End quote ---


Are you referring to the thumbnails posted here or the text (intellectual property) ?

Please clarify your question and explain why this would constitute a personal concern for you...


Mr Halfhand

Barek Halfhand:
Wow this thread has almost 50,000 views ...thanks everyone!   :-)

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