Former Bald Knob Hotel

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I know it's been a while. I'm sorry. I've been more active over here.

Anyway, this is the old Bald Knob Hotel. It's located near the railroad in what was once Bald Knob's "Skid Row," a strip of bars, brothels, and boarding houses. This one was probably all three at one point. The real business was upstairs, if you get me. As the current owner says, it really put the "Ho" in "Hotel."

Ghost Signs: Part 1

All right! It's time to dust this little blog off and talk about one of my favorite things in the world of time fishing: ghost signs.


Location: Beebe

The first time I heard about ghost signs was when I encountered this book. I'm not actually sure where it came up, but somehow I was linked to it on Amazon and next I found it our local Hastings, beat up and evidently returned but still toting a hefty $20 price tag. For this reason I didn't leave the store with the book, but I did sit on the floor then and there and went through the book, cover to cover.

Being left-handed causes me to flip through books backwards, so I didn't actually do much reading that time. Mostly I just gaped at the pictures, looking for signs I might have seen before on my trips. I did, however, gather the idea behind ghost signs. They were large, painted advertisements created generally between 1900 and the 1950s (so at the same time most classy things were starting to disappear in America). In those old days, the signs were positively ubiquitous. They were painted on the highest buildings in town so everyone could see them.


Location: Bald Knob, Market Street, across from the MoPac depot

As the years went by and advertisers started turning elsewhere to cheaper options, the signs were left to fade. Sometimes, as in the above case, older signs become visible beneath the most recent ones as the paint erodes. The "war bonds" callout dates the sign easily, and the phrase "barber shop" affords an identity to this otherwise vacant and unmarked building. The structure's other side displays the text "White Way Cafe," revealing another persona.


Location: Batesville

Sometimes the signs are located in areas which don't really seem logical now. The above sign was on the back of a building on Main Street, advertising Optima Flour to predatory wasps and employees taking smoke breaks. But the positioning suggests that that area was once a high-traffic and high-priority zone. It also suggests that a product called "Optima Flour" existed at some point.



Location: Batesville

Here is an example of a ghost sign displayed at a tall vantage point. Anyone trotting down Batesville's Main Street in 1920 would see clearly that someone named "Hail" owned a Dry Goods shop in that building. It's the equivalent of seeing "McDonald's, Exit 92, 2 miles ahead on the right" on I-40, except this sign was beautifully hand-painted by a person instead of laser-printed and mass-produced by a corporation. Sorry, a little bitter.


Location: Batesville

For my last entry in our intro to ghost signs, we have one of my favorite types. Occasionally when a building is being renovated, or burns down, or is otherwise removed, one of these old signs is revealed, at least for a while. The Landers Theater, one of two beautiful old theaters in downtown Batesville, is currently being renovated and being made into the home of a Fellowship Bible Church (yeah, weird, but I guess it is Arkansas). When one of the walls was torn down, it revealed the massive sign seen above. Signs of this size rarely still exist on buildings, usually having been painted over or otherwise removed. This one is positively enormous, covering most of the side of the neighboring building, and is definitely advertising something which would cost a lot more than $3.50 these days. What that product is, I'm not sure.

So that's part one of our three-part discussion of ghost signs. I find these everywhere, and I always get really happy when I see them, so expect to hear a lot more. Next time: Wall Dogs!

-Jonesy

Fill 'er Up

Readers may remember when I mentioned all of the abandoned gas stations lining highway 367. Old gas stations are one of my favorite subjects, simply because they are positively everywhere. They also tend to be cunningly hidden, which presents a fair challenge. Highway 367 is brimming with them if one knows where to look.



Our good friend the metal dinosaur (now painted green!) heralds the start of the gas station parade. Most old stations were quite small, featuring one or two garages, an office/supply shop, and usually no more than two pumps. As more and more people bought cars, and the larger gas companies started building convenient stores and restaurants into their stations, the smaller ones became outmoded. Many, however, remain viable businesses, but no longer retain their gasoline-selling identity and are devoid of pumps. In fact, the car dealership to which metal dino belongs is a former station.



The telltale sign is the concrete island to dino's left. This is the structure which originally would have housed the two pumps: note the overgrown hold just to the right of the pole. Upon closer inspection, the hole contains many tubes which once would have connected to a pump.

Here are a few more old stations seen between Searcy and Bald Knob (click to enlarge):



All of the above stations are either completely abandoned or are still being used as auto repair shops. Sometimes, though, they take on an entirely new identity.



This station, only identifiable by its 60's or 70's wavy canopy, seems to have become a lumber yard and is completely fenced off.



This one, one of my favorites for its gigantic triangular canopy (seriously, that thing looks deadly), now houses a pecan business. We found this antique scale sitting outside:



The birds living in a hole somewhere in the ceiling haven't treated the scale very well.



This station's canopy peeks over the owners' burgeoning fruit and vegetable stand. Ever wanted to buy fresh tomatoes at a gas station?



This one (possibly an old Sinclair station) has been granted the unlikely job of Bald Knob Fire Station. It's right next to the Bald Knob Farmer's Market.



Sometimes it's pretty hard to know what these buildings used to be. I think the structure bulging from the right side of the building is added on and may cover what was once a garage. The only way I figured this one out is because of the distinctive curved filling station light post, seen on the far right of the frame. These particular light posts are present at an alarming number of gas stations, and some still linger in places where they have become meaningless. I still have yet to figure out the significance of these guys.

I love these old stations, but my favorite is one which I've mentioned before.



This is clearly the oldest station on the stretch, demonstrating its age with a highly individual architectural style including a decorative gable (closeup pictured at the top of the entry) and wooden garage doors. It's another one which is suffering from an identity crisis, having been transformed into a hair salon. But I'd rather have it house some business than none. It's listed on the national register of historical places, along with the cafe next to it which was designed by the same architect. Here's a closeup of the beautiful wooden garage doors:



Given the sheer number of stations on 367, It's clear that the road was once a heavily traveled thoroughfare. Now, the stations are just relics of a time when drivers could see more than just trees and 100-foot-tall signposts from the road.



-Jonesy

Theaters in White County

I'm not sure if I've before mentioned my love for the Rialto theater in Searcy.



I loved this place from the very onset of arriving at Harding for its simple charm, marvelous art-deco stucco style and reasonable $1 ticket fee. I cherish it more now for its status as one of the last of its kind.

The Rialto opened sometime in the 20s as the Grand theater, burned, and was later reopened as its present identity. The current owner is a man named Victor Weber, who has owned theaters all over White County and is proud never to have shown an R-rated film (with the exception of The Passion of the Christ). Once when we were in line to see Twilight (mainly to laugh at it), Victor came out and expressed his joy and surprise at having his theater featured on the covered of the new edition of the White County phone book.

But wait. Did I say theaters all over white county? Yes, I did. Currently, if somebody wants to see up-to-date films, they have to go to Cinema 8 in Searcy, which is not much more than a brick shoebox sitting at the back of a moonscape-esque parking lot. The next closest theater is in Cabot. Both theaters are owned by a man named Slick, about whom the less said, the better.

It hasn't always been so. Fifty years ago, most of the small towns around here had their own theater.



The above is Judd theater, Judsonia, sometime in the 1940s. The girl pictured worked in the ticket booth during that time period. I might have been able to see Arsenic and Old Lace here.



Here it is now. The only way I know this is the theater is because of the stamp in the concrete by the door ("Judd Theater 1944," and the same raised area the girl is standing in front of). I have no idea if anything remains of the actual building behind that corrugated steel. Someday I plan to find out.



A theater in Bald Knob. I don't know anything about this theater except that it lines the street opposite the Missouri-Pacific Depot.



What's left of the theater in Kensett. It was owned at some point by Victor Weber. What you see in this picture is essentially all that remains. There is no building beyond the front facade. Weirdly, there was a hospital stretcher in the ticket booth. Note the door on the left. It leads to stairs which would have gone up to the balcony, which is where folks who weren't white had to sit. The Rialto has a similar door, but the balcony isn't in use these days.



The theater in Beebe (known variously as the Pioneer Theater, Radio Theater and Palace Theater). Note the same kind of balcony door. Apparently they do karaoke in there now which somehow involves a gorilla (read the sign). Here is what the authors of Remembering Our Past have to say about this theater:

"In the 1950s you could go to the Saturday afternoon Matinee and see a cartoon, serial and the movie. For 20 cents you got in the show and had enough money for a coke and a bag of popcorn. We usually did not get first run movies but we did get quite a variety. One movie would be shown on Thursday night, Friday night, Saturday afternoon and Saturday night. Another movie would be shown on Sunday afternoon, Sunday night and Monday night. Many of us young boys saw our first female naked breast at a movie sometime in the late 50s or early 60s. The movie was And God Created Woman with Bridgett Bardot. It was quite a thrill for us but created a real controversy in town."

The lives of these small theaters were mostly ended by the advent of multi-screen theaters. Unfortunately many of the new theaters left behind any semblance of architectural creativity, figuring as long as they had a lot of screens it didn't matter. A few of the small ones, like the Rialto, have managed to hold on. That's why I treasure them so.

Look forward to more theatrical entries.

-Jonesy

Snapshots

I have quite a few things I've got on the front burners, but today I'm just going to share some pictures that don't really fit in anywhere else. I have a feeling this theme will be revisited again in the future as well. As always, click to enlarge.



Train bridge (formerly a swinging bridge), Judsonia



Gutted building, McRae



Texas Illinois Motel, Highway 367 near Bald Knob



Burgler Alarm, former First National Bank, Newport



Mural, former train bridge, Crossville IL



Courthouse, Newport



Jeep, Tuckerman



Pile of train track crossbeams, Conway



University of Arkansas, Batesville



Foamhenge, Natural Bridge VA.

Also let this serve as a note that yes, I am documenting things that come from places other than Arkansas. Because come on folks, Arkansas isn't the center of the universe.

-Jonesy

Combo Car No. 57

Didn't mean for a week's gap between posts, but oh well. It's bound to happen sometimes.

The mid-to-late 19th century is about as old as you get here in Arkansas, at least when you're talking about the country as we know it. And in the late 1800s the railroads were still going strong. Passenger cars were wood-and-iron boxes which could carry a few dozen folks and sometimes even included a toilet or a stove.



The Missouri/North Arkansas line went right through Searcy, right past that dismal white building which I featured a couple of posts ago. Combo car no. 57 (a brother of no. 55, pictured above), built in 1894, was one of those wooden carriers and probably spent a lot of time yukking it up with no. 58 and no. 60 (I don't know anything about no. 59) during its long life.



Here's our no. 57 bringing up the rear of his family, adjacent to car no. 55 who is receiving some mail. No. 57 was also a mail car. At some point, partitions were placed in no. 57, adjusting its passenger capacity to "20W 14C." That's 34 folks total; I'll let you figure out what "W" and "C" stood for.

By 1949, no. 57 was retired and the Missouri/North Arkansas line was beginning to disintegrate. The old car sat and watched as the tracks were swept away like leaves, and time finally robbed no. 57 of its trucks (its iron wheel housings), deserting the car on Oak street in Searcy. Somewhere down the road the car was converted into a residence, but eventually that too fell away. In the end, car no. 57 was in a salvage yard and was scheduled for destruction.

But in 2007 the White County Historical Society came to its rescue.



The first time I saw this car sitting next to the restored depot in Bald Knob, I was like "wow, that's a really moldy old train car!" I later came to find out out that not only is it very old and very moldy, it's also one of the last of its kind. It's the only known surviving car of the Missouri/North Arkansas line. The Historical Society is currently working on restoring the car, and they have a lot more data on it at their website, from which I also borrowed the above historical photos.



There are a couple images of the interior of car no. 57. Now I'm just going to have to see if I can get old 57 to get together with the caboose at Riverside on the other end of town...

-Jonesy