This is the last of the stamps I collected in my sweep of Downer between Woodruff and Hopkins. This one is on the east side of the street.
The block turned out to be a disappointment. Most of the sidewalk looked to be the same age and composition, but was unstamped, suggesting that none of it was properly marked when the subdivision was developed. Almost all of the newer-looking blocks are Able 2002 stamps like this one, except for the 2019 Eastlund stamps on the corner of Able and Hopkins and one extremely worn Moore and Trosper stamp from (if I read it right) the 1990s.
On my recent sweep of Downer Street between Woodruff and Hopkins, I found this gas utility cover on the west side of the street.
I’m disappointed that Mueller doesn’t have a company history on their Web site, just this brief description: “Since 1857, the Mueller name has become known for innovative water distribution products of superior quality, many of which have become industry standards. This leadership position has resulted in our valves or hydrants being specified in the 100 largest metropolitan areas in the United States. We also provide distribution products for the natural gas industry.”
Fortunately, they do have a Wikipedia page, and from there I learn that the company was started by Hieronymous Mueller in Decatur, Illinois, as “H. Mueller, Gun Shop.” He then expanded into sewing machine and clock repairs. Eventually, he shifted focus to plumbing supplies and sold off the gun and sporting goods side of the business. The business sadly left Decatur in 2010 and moved their headquarters to Chattanooga, Tennessee (the location of one of the other companies they had acquired back in the 1930s).
As noted yesterday, I picked a block more or less randomly to stop at on my way home from work, and I ended up on Downer Street between Woodruff and Hopkins. There was disappointingly little of interest; yesterday’s mysterious driveway stamp is the best of it. The newest stamps on the block, from Eastlund Concrete, are from a section of sidewalk wrapping around the southwest corner of Downer and Hopkins.
Sometimes I pick an unfamiliar block semi-randomly and divert to it on my way home from work to look for sidewalk stamps. This time I picked Downer Street between Woodruff and Hopkins. There wasn’t much of interest there, but I did find this driveway on the west side of the street. It has a year, 1975, stamped in each corner, but no contractor name. There is a matching driveway stamped with the same date in the corners on Elizabeth Street, undoubtedly the work of the same anonymous contractor.
I was surprised to walk down to the south end of South Francis Avenue and discover a large amount of sidewalk has been replaced on the west side of the street. The scattered blocks of new concrete – there must be a couple dozen or more – can be readily seen at a distance. The work was done by White Hawk, the same contractor who recently did a similarly large replacement project on South Magnolia. What surprises me about this find, though, is that a good bit of sidewalk from the east side of Francis has been removed as the lots have vacated. I expected they would just let the sidewalk on the other side keep deteriorating while they waited out the remaining residents, but I was clearly wrong.
Many of the lawn extensions (or “parkways” as the Lansing municipal code calls them) are also covered with straw, indicating grass reseeding. The edges of some front yards have this too. I’m not sure of the reason for this.
This particular stamp (one of very many similar ones) is from the west side of Francis south of Elizabeth. It’s in front of one of the many nearby community gardens, this one calling itself the Poppin’ Fresh Community Garden.
This is somewhere around the fourth time I’ve gone to try to read this stamp, located on the south side of Hickory Street between Euclid and Pennsylvania. I really wonder what the resident here thinks about the person who keeps pulling up, getting out of the car, kicking at the sidewalk a bit, and then leaving again. Unfortunately, I think this one is uncrackable. It’s just too worn. I’ve tried different times a day and different sidewalk conditions, and I think all that’s left would be to use one of the tricks of gravestone readers and push aluminum foil into it. I’m not sure I quite have the nerve to do that because of the likelihood of having to explain to someone what I’m up to. I’m tempted, though.
It’s clearly old, not just because it’s worn but because of the style. The date looked (and felt; I traced my finger in it) like “10” on this visit. I’m almost positive the first digit is 1 but the second could be anything relatively round.
This one is on South Pennsylvania Avenue, in front of the Marathon station at the southeast corner of Pennsylvania and Kalamazoo. It’s your basic, run-of-the-mill 1940s Department of Public Works stamp, very common around here.
Although I think of this gas station as being on Kalamazoo because it faces that way, I have learned that its street address is on Penn. It’s been a familiar sight for me for a long time, but I’ve never been inside it. I’m always headed out of town in the other direction when I stop for gas. Years ago, its canopy said MARATHON on one end and CONEY ISLAND on the other, and a sign on the side of the building dubbed it “Marathon Coney Island.” When my now-husband, then-sweetheart was first visiting me in Lansing, I drove past it while we were going somewhere, and in a bemused voice he said, “Coney Island?” I distractedly replied, “Oh yeah, I think they just have a food counter in there or something and that’s why it says that.” What I had completely forgotten is that as a New Jersey native he would be unfamiliar with the use of “Coney Island” to describe a specific kind of diner in Michigan. It occurred to me only a long time afterward that this would have sounded like a complete non sequitur. He didn’t ask for clarification at the time.
Sadly (in a way), the CONEY ISLAND banner is gone now, since it instead houses one of the locations of Jose’s Cuban Sandwich and Deli. I have had food delivered from there and it is very good. I just miss the big CONEY ISLAND letters.
The city’s online property records show that this building dates from 1964. I have a hard time imagining it as anything but a gas station, and yet I find Lansing State Journal ads from 1997 for Advanced Imaging Services Inc. at this location. Even more surprising, photos in the city’s property records seem to show that it only converted into a gas station around December 2004 (the city’s records show Advanced Imaging selling the property in July that year), and that it was vacant again by May 2008. I remember it as though it had always been the Marathon Coney Island until Jose’s moved in, but somehow it wasn’t even a gas station for the first several years I lived in town and I have no recollection of that now at all.
I was in Royal Oak on Friday to see Sparks at the Royal Oak Music Theatre, and I couldn’t resist stopping to snap a picture of this new-to-me contractor stamp on the east side of South Lafayette Street between 4th and 5th, outside the Stagecrafters Baldwin Theater. I know, this isn’t even close to the Capital City, but it’s my blog and I can make (or break) the rules. This one uses a common template that several Lansing-area contractors also use.
Major Cement calls itself Major Contracting on the front page of its Web site, but the URL is majorcementco.com. Over on the history page, they slip back and forth between the two names. I see the telltale signs of a recent name change in all this. They were founded in 1978 and are located just inside the western border of the city of Detroit, on Dale Street near Telegraph Road.
I heard that there was a fire at the house behind Liz’s Alteration Shop (on the south side of East Michigan Avenue between Leslie and Regent), so I walked over to see how bad it looks. Unfortunately, the answer is pretty bad. Liz McMurray, who was featured in the 2022 People Issue of the City Pulse, owns the property and lives in the house, but she was out of town when it happened. The firefighters were fortunately able to save some important sentimental items including her family Bible.
I decided I might as well get this shot of a BBRPCI stamp while I was there.
According to the city’s records, the house and the attached shopfront were both built in 1912. Liz’s Alteration Shop has been there since 1978.
Everything looks normal from this angle. The stamp is near the closest flower pot, there.
Unfortunately, here you can see how bad the attic and second floor look. I read that it did not damage the shop.
This is an illustration of the two ways the city deals with trip hazards in the sidewalk, on the north side of Elizabeth Street between Shepard and Leslie. The sidewalk slabs are frequently heaved up by trees, and some stretches of sidewalk on the east side resemble obstacle courses as a result. When someone cares enough to report a trip hazard, the city either uses asphalt to make a sort of ramp between the two pieces of walk, or grinds the sidewalk down until the edges are flush again.
The former approach is almost useless in my estimation. The asphalt almost always has a blunt enough edge to be its own trip hazard, and it ends up crumbling and getting even craggier over time. The grinding method works very well, making a wonderfully smooth transition. As a bonus it looks kind of neat, exposing the rock within the concrete and leaving behind an almost polished sheen.
I don’t know how the city decides which approach to use. The asphalt method is described as a “temporary fix,” but I’ve seen ones that have clearly been around for ages. The grinding method “is only appropriate for addressing trip hazards where the sidewalk section is otherwise intact (not cracked or broken),” which could explain why some spots get the asphalt instead, but I have seen plenty of asphalt patches on intact blocks. So I’m not sure why they don’t use the clearly superior grinding method more universally.
