Who-Who: The Real Weatherbird

If you look closely at the rather mundane exterior of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch building on Tucker Boulevard, you're sure to notice the sculpted images of printers from days of yore above the front door. Less noticable to passersby, however, is the owl who hovers closer to the roof. Many St. Louis buildings are blessed with ornate facades, but those that include birds are more likely to feature the ubiquitous eagle, which, in the United States, is equated with freedom and liberty. The owl, on the other hand, symbolizes wisdom. But owls have also historically been symbols of the occult the forces of the night. And, of course, their call is one of journalism's five Ws.

Dedicated to Raymond Flynn

Laborers Local 110's office on Enright Avenue, across the street from the Veteran's Hospital in St. Louis, has a plaque dedicating the building in memory of former union officer Raymond Flynn. The plaque was placed on the building in the mid-1980s around the time that Flynn, a labor racketeer, was embroiled in St. Louis' last organized crime war. Flynn was later convicted for his role in the car bombing campaign that killed and maimed several mob figures.

Winter

The city is a widow in winter.

900 N. Tucker

Fort Apache, aka, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch headquarters on Tucker Boulevard is undergoing a face lift. During the "bad-old-days" of the 1960s, the management of the newspaper bricked up its arhed, exterior windows on the first floor in anticipation of race riots and civil unrest that never materialized. With the re-election of George W. Bush, the Post must feel things are safer now. The windows are back.

Top Cop Sighting

Week before last, before the latest cop scandal broke, I spotted St. Louis Police Chief having lunch with another high-ranking officer at Buffa Brothers Cafeteria on Olive Street west of downtown. The cafeteria, a hangout for local pols and cops, is devoid of any exterior signs, making it impossible for passersby to know what's inside.

Return of the Rasta and the Skinny White Chick

I used to spy this odd couple up around Hi-Pointe near the city limits. Both wore tattered clothing and dreadlocks. The waif appeared as pale as her companion was black. They lived in a an old van, which was often parked near the Chinese restaurant next to Cheshire Inn. But their home seemed to be the woods near the Skinker Boulevard entrance to Forest Park. Perhaps they foraged for roots and berries there. They disappeared sometime back. Recently, I spotted them wandering the streets of downtown St. Louis.

Blind Corner

On this January morning, a blind man stood at the corner of 18th and Olive, tapping his cane, talking on the cell phone, wearing only jogging shorts and a T-shirt.

All Steamed Up

Throughout downtown St. Louis manhole covers and various grates spout steam. A newcomer to the city might think that it's a winter phenomenon. But that's not the case. The reason for all the steam is the century-old Trigen power plant north of Laclede's Landing on the riverfront. Formerly a Union Electric facility, Trigen provides the heat for all of downtown's office buildings.

The End of Western Civilization

The end of Western civilization began with the adoption of baseball caps as part of a cop's official uniform.

On Broadway

South Broadway that is. ...

Coming down the hill from Bellrieve Park, Broadway parallels the river and railroad tracks, storefronts flanking long stretches on both sides of the street. This place used to be a separate city from St. Louis, and in ways still clings to its distinctive character. Originally called Carondelot, the district's contiguous streetscape is arguably the best example of 19th-Century commercial architecture remaining in St. Louis. Ornate wrought iron balconies sag from many of the second stories of the attached buildings. Fading signs advertise mercantile enterprises dating back more than one hundred years. Suspended time hangs thick as wood smoke in the cold air outside the Commercial Southern Bank, as lunchtime customers congregate at the Riverside Diner and Wimpy's Cafe, and sleds bait buyers on the sidewalk outside Rathbone's hardware store, stirring memories in passersbys. Soon the first snow will blanket the street at dusk, muffling the distant cry of the boxcar wheels. Winter has crept into town like a slow-moving freight.

Wasteland

At first glance, the bronze commemorative marker could be mistaken for an oversized sewer lid. The monument is set in the sidewalk at 2635 Locust St. near Jefferson. This place, an area west of downtown is a "wasteland" of parking lots and shuttered businesses. Once, however, it was the boyhood home of poet T.S. Eliot.

Eviction

A St. Louis deputy sheriff was onhand this morning to oversee the eviction of a family from their home in the 4700 block of 20th Street, just east of the Grand Avenue Watertower in North St. Louis.

Died in the USA

On New Year's Day, the only family to pay its respects at Lakewood Cemetery appeared to be Islamic. Lakewood in Affton, a near suburb of St. Louis, is the final resting place for Bosnians of Muslim descent. Their graves, many of them fresh, are are set apart from the others, clustered near the entrance off Mackenzie Road. Many of the headstones are painted green and are emblazoned with a crescent moon and star. The names of the dead have been placed on the markers with self-adhesive lettering available at hardware stores.

The Disappearing City

Much of the wrought-iron that once graced St. Louis residences can now be seen in the Big Easy's French Quarter.

Much of St. Louis' 19th-Century architecture is constructed from bricks fired at local kilns such as those that used to be located on Manchester Avenue, west of Kingshighway. The bricks were made from clay mined in the area by Italian immigrants who lived on Dago Hill, a neighborhood that still thrives today, although the first half of the name has been deleted. Another disappearing part of history are the buildings themselves, many of which are being razed throughout the city each day both legally and illegally. After the buildings are demolished, the bricks are neatly stacked on pallets and sold at a premium on the national market. The same wholesale disappearance has already occurred to most of the ornate wrought-iron balconies that once graced these residences. Many of these masterpieces forged at St. Louis' foundries can be seen today on the streets of the Vieux Carre in New Orleans.

Whitewater on the Mississippi

The old Chain of Rocks Bridge spans the Mississippi River in north St. Louis. Once part of the legendary Route 66, which ran from Chicago to Santa Monica, Calif., the bridge is now open only to pedestrian and bicycle traffic. At its peak, a hundred or more feet above the river, the bridge overlooks its namesake, the "chain of rocks" that stretches across the mile-wide stream. At this point, the river drops approximately three feet, creating a constantly churning swell of whitewater that inhibits commercial navigation. Barges must use the nearby shipping canal to cimcumvent the natural impediment, leaving this portion of river free of any large vessels. The last lock and dam on the river is located along the canal. From Chain of Rocks to the Gulf of Mexico, the Mississippi runs free. Water rushing over the rocks sound like an uninterrupted ocean tide, as sea gulls soar above.

Trombone Encore

The trombonist sat on a folding chair on Jefferson Avenue on New Year's Eve morning, playing Auld Lang Syne down the street from Sam Light's pawn shop, where handlebars of the hocked bicycles gleamed in the sun.

Call of the Wild

On the deserted Saint Louis University campus yesterday, a lone dog cocked his head to the sky and began yelping like a coyote, his call of the wild unreturned.