Located at 94 Prince Street in New York City's SoHo neighborhood, Fanelli Cafe has been in business since 1847 (!). I knew nothing about this historic eatery when I walked by, trailing my wife and daughter as they window-shopped. I saw the sign, pointed my camera up because I liked the looks of it, made a photo and moved on.
This is the final post in my series of quick hits about a trip to NYC last fall. Links to the previous six are at the bottom of this post.
"Herman Gerken leased the wooden building at 94 Prince Street in 1847 and became the proprietor of a grocery on the site," per the cafe's web site. "In 1853 [John] Hance’s heirs, Edna Brown, Mary Sarles, and Sara McIntosh, sold the lots to Herman Gerken. In 1857 Gerken built the present day (sic) handsome five story (sic) brick building that still carries the 94 Prince Street address. This corner building was interconnected with his adjourning (sic) building at 135 Mercer Street by at least 1891."
To read the history of this property, starting with a Dutch farm in the 1640s to its status during Prohibition as a speakeasy, check out this page on the cafe's web site, which quotes from an article originally published by New York Art World.
I love it when I make a photo of a place simply because I'm captivated by its grittiness, and the subject of the image turns out to have played a significant role in music history.
Located at 266 Bowery in Lower Manhattan, Globe Slicers has served the restaurant industry since 1947. What, you may be wondering, does a 78-year-old company that sells and repairs slicing machines, mixers and meat grinders have to do with music?
When I posted the photo above to Instagram, one of my followers clued me in that "Debbie Harry and Chris Stein lived above Globe Slicers and their apartment was Blondie's practice space." Thank you, Joe Schumacher!
The apartment was just down the street from the late, lamented CBGB, the club where Blondie and other artists such as the Ramones, Television, Talking Heads and Patti Smith created a seminal punk rock and New Wave scene.
Here's the thing, though: Globe Slicers wasn't located at 266 Bowery back in the Blondie days. There was a liquor store in this space at that time, according to Stein, who was Blondie's co-founder and guitarist. Stein, who turned 75 in early January, is also an accomplished photographer.
To read a full history of 266 Bowery, check out this excellent post from the Daytonian in Manhattan blog.
This is the sixth in a series of short posts about my trip to New York City last fall. Long after my trip, and subsequent to writing this post, I began reading Debbie Harry's autobiography, Face It. I'm thoroughly enjoying it! Links to the other posts in this series are below:
This plaque is located outside a Guess store at 538 Broadway in New York City's SoHo district, marking the former location of a Fluxhouse artist cooperative live-work space. These are the kinds of things I make photos of while all around me people are window-shopping, taking selfies in front of a Brandy Melville store and generally not taking photos of things like this.
If, like me before October 13, 2024, you have no idea what a Fluxhouse is, let me tell you all about it...in the words of web sites that know what they're talking about. I made this photo because I was somewhat familiar with the Fluxus art movement. What did I know about it? Well, that the musician Beck's grandfather, Al Hansen was a member of the movement.
"Founded in 1960 by the Lithuanian/American artist George Maciunas, Fluxus began as a small but international network of artists and composers, and was characterised as a shared attitude rather than a movement," according to this article from London's Tate galleries. "Rooted in experimental music, it was named after a magazine which featured the work of musicians and artists centred around avant-garde composer John Cage."
"Drawn together by their disenchantment with the elitist attitudes that they perceived in the art world at the time, they looked to the Futurists and Dadaists for inspiration, especially focusing on the performance aspects of these movements," per this article from The Art Story. "The two most dominant forces, however, were Marcel Duchamp and John Cage, who championed the use of everyday objects and the element of chance in art, both of which became fundamental to Fluxus practices. Whilst Cage was part of the Fluxus movement, Duchamp was never directly involved."
"From 1966 to 1975, George Maciunas realized the social objectives of Fluxus towards a pragmatic and non-elitist conception of art in his work as an urban planner in the Fluxhouse Cooperatives," according to the George Maciunas Foundation web site. Over that decade, he livened the SoHo and Lower East Side neighborhoods by creating Fluxhouse cooperatives in 17 buildings.
This is the fifth in a series of short posts about my trip to New York City last fall. Links to the others are below:
This is the fourth short post about my trip to New York City in October (the first one is here; the second one is here; the third one is here). You can't throw a rock in the Big Apple without hitting a famous restaurant, park, store, art gallery, person, movie setting or nightclub. As I was walking through the Bowery in Lower Manhattan, I stumbled across an example of the latter.
The Bowery Ballroom opened on Delancey Street in 1998, in a building that's nearly 100 years old. It is considered one of the best music clubs in the country, per Wikipedia. As with Webster Hall that was featured in my second NYC post, I'd heard of this place but haven't been there.
I became more interested in this well-known spot after looking up and seeing "TREE-MARK SHOES" chiseled into the facade.
Wikipedia says this store never opened, because its planned debut came just before the Wall Street crash of 1929. "It stood vacant until the end of World War II, when it housed a series of shops." Ephemeral New York, however, says Tree-Mark moved in after the big war and was there for the next 30 years.
Whatever.
When I think of the Bowery, which over decades of decline became shorthand for down-and-out, I think of the Bowery Boys, probably thanks to my Dad mentioning the fictional New York City characters from a series of movies made from 1946 to 1958. The Boys were successors to the East Side Kids, who were an imitation of the Dead End Kids.
Located at 110 East 11th Street in Greenwich Village, the billiards joint (also a cafe and bar) was founded in 1989 by comedian David Brenner and brothers Greg and Ethan Hunt, per the joint's web site. I have fond memories of seeing Brenner on late-night talk shows and elsewhere on TV when I was a kid.
While the billiards place is 35 years old, evidently "this venue has a rich history that dates back to the charming Greenwich Village in 1940," according to this Billiard Bay article. I'm not sure if it was a pool hall back in those days, or what it was. I made the photo above because I dig the sign.
This building stands today, but a handful of buildngs of the same generation weren't so lucky, as they were torn down to make way for, ugh, the hotel where we stayed.
As I exited the Uber that my wife, daughter and I took from the train station, I said to myself, "Whoa! We're right across from Webster Hall!"
I'm not sure why I said this, as I have no connection nor much knowledge of the historic New York City concert venue. I think I first heard of Webster Hall back in the late '90s when I worked for an Internet company and we paid attention to bands webcasting live performances from there. Anyway, let's use my lack of familiarity about this place on East 11th Street to learn something.
"Webster Hall was built in 1886 by architect Charles Rentz in the Queen Anne style and topped with an elaborate mansard roof," according to Wikipedia. "Six years later in 1892, Rentz was hired to design an addition to the building, occupying the site of 125 East 11th Street and designed in the Renaissance Revival style using the same materials as the original building. Throughout the early twentieth century the building was plagued by fires, which occurred in 1902, 1911, 1930, 1938, and 1949. The original mansard roof was likely lost in one of these fires."
Damn, did they hire an arsonist act as part of the vaudeville nights? Yeesh.
A little more from Wikipedia: "The first decade or so of Webster Hall's existence saw it host countless labor union rallies, weddings, meetings, lectures, dances, military functions, concerts, fundraisers and other events, particularly those focused on the working-class and immigrant population of the surrounding Lower East Side neighborhood. Although it also hosted many high-society functions catering to the uppertens (new word for me - DB) of the city, the hall earned a reputation as a gathering place for leftist, socialist, Anarchist and labor union activity very early on."
Since 1992, the hall has been operated by the Ballinger brothers as a place for concerts and corporate events, and includes a recording studio. The night we stayed across the street, actor and comedian John Early, who I've never heard of, was on stage.
This is the second of several quick-hit posts about some of the things I saw during a brief visit to New York City in October. The first one is available here.
In mid-October my wife and I traveled with our daughter to take a tour of New York University. I had time the morning before our walkabout to check out the neighborhood, camera in hand. I headed south on 4th Avenue in Greenwich Village and within a short time found myself looking up at this amazing sign.
First, I'm happy to report that the clock inside the eighth note on the former Carl Fischer Music Building is accurate, although it appears some sort of renovation of the massive timepiece was going on. I'm also thrilled that when this music publisher's home was converted to condos, the developer kept the eye-grabbing sign. I mean, it's worth it to attract eyeballs and for giving directions, right?!
As for the building: "For over seventy-five years it housed the printery and a retail store for the Carl Fischer Music company," per this Off the Grid blog post from the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation. "The company’s founder, Carl Fischer, was born in Germany and immigrated to New York in 1872. He opened a musical instrument store on East 4th Street between First and Second Avenues, and soon expanded into sheet music publishing. By 1880 the company expanded to a larger space on Cooper Square, but it wasn’t until 1922 that the building we see today was built."
The company is still in business today, albeit in a different location since 1999: Wall Street in Manhattan's Financial District. The company's "publications span multiple genres, ranging from concert music to jazz, classics, popular and choral works while representing the major instrumental groups, including woodwinds, strings, brass, percussion, voice, keyboard, and fretted instruments," per its web site. "Carl Fischer Music publications are available for purchase at over 2,000 retailers worldwide."
This is the first of several quick-hit posts about some of the things I saw during my brief visit to New York City.
There may be another song about furtively walking through the narrow back streets of a city, but I don't know of it. Robert Palmer's cornered the market in my mind, so that's the soundtrack and headline inspiration for this post about my initial exploration of a few of Boston's many public alleys. I hope to check out more as time goes on, as I am fascinated by these perfect embodiments of the backside of America.
After checking out a Boston Open Market adjacent to Boston Common on a beautiful early October Saturday, I set off to roam nearby and within a minute found myself standing in front of Public Alley 438, just north of the Arlington Street Church in Back Bay. I've walked through some of Boston's alleys before, sometimes in service of this blog, other times just for the hell of it. And for a while I've had it in my head to do a more thorough survey of them and write about them here.
So, I figured as I stood there peering into the shadows, what better time than now, with no other plan in mind for the afternoon?
The first thing that caught my eye as I strolled along this alley, which runs behind buildings on both Boylston and Newbury streets, was perhaps the ideal siting of the day.
Brooks Brothers is a storied American luxury clothing brand. Founded in 1818 in Manhattan, the retail chain has grown to include more around 150 stores worldwide, down from a high of more than 200 before the company declared bankruptcy a few years ago.
When I think of rich people, I think of Brooks Brothers. I'm sure that would swell the heart of any man wearing a Classic Fit Patch Pocket Sport Coat in Wide-Wale Cotton Corduroy. But I also love a nice contrast, such as a faded-and-amateur printed sign on a small back-alley door for one of the world's premier fashion outlets. This small, rusty and rather secure-looking door is at the rear of 46 Newbury Street, where Brooks Brothers once was located. The Boston store currently occupies 109 Newbury Street.
There are a lot of these types of small doors in Boston's public alleys, some at ground level like this one, others raised up quite a bit higher as we'll see further down this post. They were likely used for deliveries of coal or ice and other products in use in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
When I hit Berkeley Street, where Public Alley 438 ends, I walked north across Newbury Street and then headed east in Public Alley 437. This narrow way runs parallel to Newbury Street and Commonwealth Avenue, and, like most of the other alleys I traversed, is where people who live in this high-priced district park their cars. This alley also faces the rear end of Emmanuel Church in the City of Boston.
The church was consecrated in 1862 and was the first building completed on Newbury Street. It's a beautiful and historic house of worship, but alas, it's not perfect.
I'll forgive that small blemish, especially in light of the fact that the most adorable door I saw on this tour leads into the church.
This small door leads to the Puppeteers Collaborative and Puppet Library, which were founded in 1976 by Sara Peattie and the late George Konoff, according to this article in The Hungtington News, which is an independent student newspaper at Boston's Northeastern University.
I love that the door is child-sized, and I smile when I think of adults stooping to get into the workshop.
I didn't go to the end of this alley, as it leads under The Newbury Boston, a luxury hotel, and all I saw was a loading dock and some dumpsters. I doubled back across Berkeley Street and found myself looking at a lovely little detail on the rear of the Church of the Covenant, while standing in Public Alley 436.
Built in 1867, the church "includes 42 large Tiffany windows, a gigantic glass lantern, rare Tiffany glass mosaics, complex paint schemes, elaborate trusses and traceries, a bronze chancel rail, organ screens, decorative wainscoting, chancel furniture, a eagle lectern, a pulpit, pews, a baptismal font," per its web site.
I'd love to get inside some day to see that. But that little basement window underneath a back exit, next to a garbage can, looks pretty damn good to me, too.
So let's take a break to learn about these public alleys. There are a lot of them; the more I look at Google Maps, the more of them I find. There are also private alleys. Most, if not all, of them originally served the same purpose: as entry points for deliveries of coal, ice, food supplies and who knows what else (guns? love letters? banned books? alcohol during Prohibition?). They are located in neighborhoods where the buildings date to the mid-19th century through the early 20th.
"Originally, all of the alleys were private, with each property owner owning the land to the middle of the passageway and each deed containing easements for common passage and drainage by the owners of the other lots on the block," according to this Back Bay Houses article. "As private property, the alleys were the responsibility of the owners, not the city, to maintain. Inattention and inability to reach agreement among the owners about maintenance led to significant deterioration. In the 1890s, the poor maintenance and condition of the alleys became a matter of increasing public concern.
"In 1898, the Massachusetts Legislature granted the City of Boston the authority to take jurisdiction over alleys 25 feet or less in width....The City subsequently designated all but three alleys in the residential portion of the Back Bay as public alleys and took responsibility for their maintenance," the article continues. This designation holds for public alleys in other parts of the city.
Today, the alleys, many of which are about 16 feet wide, lead to residential parking and, in some cases, entry points into apartments and condominiums. Restaurants have large trash bins in some of the alleys, which means there are of course rats scurrying around. I imagine flooding is a problem in some of them.
I didn't see any members of the Rattus norvegicus family on this tour, but I did see chained-up bicycles, idling food-delivery scooters, other folks ambling along, back windows into expensive shops and much more. I imagine the alleys see their share of drug-dealing and prostitution in certain areas, as well as quirky middle-aged men making photos of rusty fire escapes, odd doorways and church windows.
OK, let's get back to the sites.
Where Public Alley 436 meets Clarendon Street, I made a photo of a back gate and a lovely trio of windows.
This is the rectory of nearby Trinity Church. The building dates to 1880 and was designed by architecture giant H.H. Richardson, per Wikipedia. I featured this building in a post nearly five years ago about this area of Boston (see March 11, 2020, "A Walk Through Boston's Back Bay & Copley Square").
I continued west down Public Alley 435 and there, across from a trio of what are likely very expensive parking spaces, and a garage with a fenced patio on top (some real money here...), I was happy to see a side alley with garbage cans and other signs of the back of a restaurant.
I love skirting the edges of society, where different cultures, lifestyles, economic positions and ways of life clash. That's what I liked most about exploring the alleys of the ritzy area of Back Bay: lots of money in the parking spots and condos and private gardens and shops and restaurants. But a different reality, in the form of garbage, smelly puddles, rat traps, dark corners and hidden history stands right there, too.
I crossed Dartmouth Street and near the western end of Public Alley 434, I saw some Mexican pride hanging in a window at the rear of 184 Commonwealth Avenue.
In a few steps I was agog at one of my favorite buildings in Boston: the First Spiritual Temple at the corner of Exeter and Newbury Streets. Even standing in the shadows of an alley, with little room to step back, look up and take in all the grandeur of Hartwell and Richardson's creation, I was in awe.
I crossed Exeter Street and headed down Public Alley 433. I dug the very non-chic back entrance to 208 Commonwealth Avenue, where condos run in excess of $700,000.
At the intersection of Fairfield Street and Public Alley 432 is a lovely building known historically as the Asa Potter house. I was hypnotized by the fire escapes.
The house was completed in 1877 and had one of the first residential elevators in the Back Bay, per this article at Back Bay Houses.
A short distance west along the alley and I encountered a tableau of colors too lovely to ignore.
This is the back door to La Neta Pinche Taco Shop, at 255 Newbury Street. There's so much going on in this scene: the blue trash bin contrasting with the white linen box; the yellow cage for propane tanks bumping against the white barrels; the green trash bin anchoring the right side; the boxes and plastic storage containers filled with ingredients; the scooter that an employee might have ridden to work. All of these items tell stories about the food industry that most customers don't see or think about.
Speaking of the food industry....
Across Gloucester Street, at the east end of Public Alley 431, is Casa Romero, a Mexican restaurant that's been in business since 1972. When I posted this photo on Instagram, a few of my followers vouched for the eatery's excellence. This place has to be good, considering its alleyway entrance.
Continuing across Hereford Street and into Public Alley 430, I came across one of the more decadent elements I've seen in the Back Bay.
What this not-so-great photo is showing you is part of an extensive roof deck/parking garage/covered parking structure that stretches behind several Commonwealth Avenue buildings, some of which are ivy-covered. I tried to find out more about this feature, but was unable to do so. If anyone knows about it, please share.
Just before the western end of Public Alley 430 at Massachusetts Avenue, the combination of window reflection, peeling paint (ironic considering this is at the rear of a Johnson Paint store) and some scuffed-up brick spoke to me.
I headed south on Mass. Ave., unsure exactly where I would find my next alley, although I knew there were plenty of options. I went east on Boylston Street, then past the beautiful pair of buildings occupied by Boston Architectural College and Boston Fire Department's Ladder 15 and Engine 33 companies, and turned north on Hereford Street. And boom - Public Alley 444 to my left.
The small brick building in the foreground may have been a stable or firehouse in its original incarnation, based on its front facade. The Brutalist building looming in the background is the primary home of the previously mentioned architectural college (I believe the shorter brick building is also part of that institution). The six-story concrete block, which was completed in 1966, was designed by Ashley, Meyer & Associates. The 50-foot architectural trompe l'oeil mural seen here from the alley was painted on the west elevation in 1979 by artist Richard Haas.
I headed back across Hereford and into Public Alley 443, where I immediately saw a curious white door about 6-8 feet above the sidewalk.
I can picture a horse-drawn wagon from Brookline Ice & Coal slogging through the mud, stopping in front of this door and loading product into a kitchen or boiler room. This is the rear of The Tennis & Racquet Club, which was founded in 1902 in this Classical Revival building designed by the firm of Parker & Thomas. "[T}he oldest athletic and social club in the city of Boston...[t]he club is known for its century-old tradition of court tennis (the regal, slate-walled ancestors of all racquet sports), the unique and exciting game of racquets, and its top-rated squash program," per its web site.
I can smell the sweat of early-20th century Boston Brahmins through the walls, and taste their cognac.
(No trespassing sign right around the corner from the funky white door.)
Several restaurants and bars back up to Public Alley 443. Below is one of many large garbage bins located there.
I believe "NNN" refers to this band, who I'd never heard of.
I debated making the photo below, as it's a personal decoration outside someone's apartment window. But I couldn't resist.
After crossing Fairfield Street into Public Alley 441, I made the shot below. That rusty duct just hit me right.
A little further down that alley, I felt the need to document the truth of the sign below.
Correct. There are no dumpsters here. But what's in that rat death trap?
Below is my favorite image from my back-alley jaunt.
I don't recall exactly where this totally random set of lockers was located, and it doesn't even matter. I just love the light blue of the lockers against the reds and whites and browns of the bricks. And I wonder: who put the lockers there? Why? Why are some of them open? And what's with the paint can?
I went back across Exeter Street into Public Alley 440. There, I found the sneaky way into Old South Church.
The sanctuary rose in 1875, the third building to stand on this site.
To wrap up my trip, I took a rare selfie in Public Alley 439, somewhere between Dartmouth and Clarendon streets.
Hope you enjoyed this trek through the underbelly of one of Boston's most chic neighborhoods. Keep your eyes peeled for more back-alley adventures in the near future!
Stoughton, Mass., located about 20 miles south of Boston, has a mid-sized downtown with some great old buildings. So one recent day, I went there.
The first thing that caught my eye was the sign for a Portuguese social club.
Clube Luis de Camoes is named for Portugal's greatest poet, per Wikipedia. "His mastery of verse has been compared to that of Shakespeare, Milton, Vondel, Homer, Virgil and Dante," Wikipedia indicates. "He wrote a considerable amount of lyrical poetry and drama but is best remembered for his epic work "Os Lusíadas (The Lusiads)."
Gotta love an organization dedicated to a poet.
Along Washington Street there are several single-story retail buildings. One that I liked is the Classical Revival Lehan Block, which was built in 1920.
(Zoom in to see the name carved in stone.)
Across the street, on the corner of Washington and Freeman streets, is one place that I found in my pre-visit research.
Currently home to a salon and other small businesses, this Queen Anne-style building dates to 1892 and was built for the local chapter of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows (IOOF), per MACRIS. The town's IOOF was organized in 1845; this building was its fifth meeting place. In 2005, the Stoughton lodge merged with the Braintree one.
Incorporated in 1726, Stoughton was for many decades a farming town. In the 19th century, the shoe-making industry began to take hold, leading to the development of many of the great old builings I saw on my trek. Anchoring the southern end of the main downtown area is the Stoughton Trust Company building at 810 Washington Street.
"Incorporated by 18 business and professional men the Stoughton Trust Company opened for business on July 15, 1911," according to MACRIS. "The bank grew and prospered and in 1916 larger accomodations were necessary. The board voted to build and the new structure opened on February 10, 1917 with deposits of more than $1,000,000. In 1934 the bank merged with 5 other banks to form the Norfolk County Trust Co. In 1935 deposits were in excess of $14,000,000. The bank was of sufficient size to serve the largest industries while also assisting the small businessman and individual."
The building is currently home to some non-banking businesses.
A little further south along Washington Street is a former VFW hall.
Built in the early 1960s, this function hall seems to have closed fairly recently. As you can see, the sign indicates that it will become home to Sully Adult Day Health and Lo's Lounge. Or perhaps those businesses are already in place by now.
Directly across the street is Banh Mi Boba & Me, a Vietnamese restaurant located in an adorable little building.
Prior establishments located here include Comfort Grill and Ronnie's Fine Food & Drink. The building dates to 1930. I'd love to know its original purpose. I'm guessing it was a store of some sort.
Besides the old Odd Fellows hall, I was aware of the State Theatre (sometimes listed as "Theater") before I visited Stoughton.
Opened in December 1927, the theater was designed by the firm of Funk and Wilcox, which was also behind theaters in Beverly, Leominster and the Dorchester neighborhood of Boston, among others. For many years the State hosted vaudeville acts and silent movies. "By 1940, the theater was renamed the Interstate State Theatre, and had been converted into a talking motion picture house," according to the After the Final Curtain blog. "The nearby Stoughton High School held class plays and graduations at the State. The theater was modernized in 1970 — the box seats and some of the atmospheric ornamentation in the auditorium were removed and covered with red drapes, and modern seats were installed on the orchestra level. The theater then became the Stoughton Cinema."
In subsequent years the theater was known as the Stoughton Cinema Pub and the South Shore Performing Arts Center, featuring second-run movies and local theater productions. It closed in early December 2007, just a few weeks shy of its 80th birthday.
Shortly thereafter, local citizens founded the Friends of the State Theatre, a non-profit organization dedicated to bring the "majestic" theater back to life. The group intends "to restore and reopen the theater as a performing arts center," per the After the Final Curtain article. "To that end, they have signed a 20-year lease and were awarded non-profit status in February 2013. They have received grants from the town of Stoughton and the state of Massachusetts, and around $700,000 in donations from private donors and businesses. The Friends aim to raise between $2.5 and $3 million to restore the theater."
As of early 2024, the group indicated on its Facebook page that "we are in need of someone that can help us with raising the funds needed to make the purchase and then rehab. We are in discussion with such a person, but if we can find others would make the lift a little easier."
Here's hoping that the Friends raise the money soon and put this theater back to good use.
The final building that I knew about before exploring is the stunning Stoughton Railroad Station.
Opened in 1888 on Wyman Street, this Romanesque Revival beauty was designed by, ahem, Charles Brigham, who is probably, like, my 17th cousin 58 times removed. For more on this architect, see February 20, 2021, "Making Things Right in Watertown Square, Part II," in which I feature a church and a bank that he designed.
The station was built from granite quarried in Stoughton, according to MACRIS. The depot is believed to be the only stone station with a tower still standing in the state. "Train and particularly freight service made transportation available to the expanding boot industry opening a national and international market that flourished until the Civil War," according to MACRIS. "Other industries using the railroad included the rubber factories, shoe manufacturers and cotton and elastic webbing businesses."
Before I get to a former rubber factory, I want to feature a sign hung outside Dykeman Electrical.
This sign for Westinghouse Electrical Apparatus, is something I've never seen before. I love how the company's logo looks like electrical circuits and is so simple and yet immediately identifiable. Westinghouse was founded in 1886 in Pittsburgh and manufactured consumer electronics, home appliances, generators, steam turbines and other products well into the 1970s. Since the company turned to the financial services and media businesses in the 1980s and 1990s, I assume this sign goes back to the '70s if not earlier.
Looking east down Summer Street, I saw the only industrial property that I checked out that day.
As I mentioned above, Stoughton was once a shoe-making town. "The shoe industry reached its peak about 1865 in Stoughton and rapidly declined after the end of the Civil War," according to MACRIS. One of the industries that grew during the latter half of the 19th century was rubber-making. "[A]t the corner of Summer and Canton streets, the Mystic Rubber Company was established in 1877 for the production of rubberized cloth and merged with the Hall Rubber Company of Boston in 1889 to form the Stoughton Rubber Company," MACRIS continues.
"The Mystic and Stoughton rubber companies were two of several industries that made an important contribution to Stoughton’s manufacturing economy between ca. 1880 and World War II," MACRIS elaborates. "Another substantial company in the Downtown Stoughton area is the Meade Rubber Company at 25 Brock Street, which was established by Stoughton native James Meade in 1916 for the manufacturing of rubber products. The Meade Rubber Company was closed by 1949." I did not check out the Meade complex.
Next I headed west along Canton Street for a few minutes. At the intersection with School Street, there stands a lovely little brick building that is currently home to a restaurant, Prato Fino do Brazil.
I believe the building dates to around 1930. Several years ago it was home to Best Pals Diner.
I doubled back on Canton Street, headed east on Porter Street until I saw a nice old building and sign on Pearl Street.
Fernandes Insurance has been in business since 1992. As for the building, it dates to around 1920.
The final shot of the day is of 753-759 Washington Street, which abuts the previously mentioned Lehan Block.
Known as Monks Block, this Romanesque Revival commercial block was built in 1886 and served as a temporary town hall in the 1980s when the actual town hall underwent renovations. Stoughton's town hall is located across Pearl Street from Monks Block.
