I made another expedition to my alma mater, MSU, to pick something up from the library. I parked in my favorite lot, the metered spaces arranged in a horseshoe by the Hannah Administration Building, and walked across the expansive pavement there. It brought back a distinct memory of marching in front of the building sometime around 2003, chanting union slogans, in the early days of the Graduate Employees Union. I had the honor of being one of the founding members.
Today – May 5 – is the 20th anniversary of the day I defended my dissertation at MSU. I don’t recall seeing this sidewalk being laid, and don’t know whether it was before or after my graduation. It is right out in front of the admin building, and I surely walked over it or its predecessor during that demonstration.
This is only the second place I’ve found a Lansing Poured Wall stamp. The other ones were on Jolly Road in front of Capital Honda, also dated 2004.
Continuing (belatedly, it’s been a hard couple of months) my walk around MSU’s campus, I also collected this Granger stamp in the Beal Botanical Garden, near the Library.
Also, here’s a bonus squirrel who was hanging out nearby. I wish I’d had a good camera on me, instead of just my tiny phone’s toy camera.
I went to MSU’s campus for the first time in years today, and rambled around once-familiar places that now feel like somewhere remembered from a dream. Outside the Auditorium Road approach to my old haunt, South Kedzie Hall, I found this stamp.
I presume the TCI behind this is the one from Eaton Rapids, Michigan. Google reviews suggest it went out of business within the last couple of years.
The March 2, 1971, [Lansing] State Journal, brings us an article with the wonderful headline, “If Sidewalks Must Be – Let Them Be Green”:
South Whitehills residents who have been opposed to sidewalks in their neighborhood since the city ordered them installed two years ago offered a counter-proposal to city council Monday night calling for fewer sidewaks and asking that they be made of green concrete. [. . .] “It’s being done, you know green sidewalks are being made,” remarked Lester Turner, attorney for the Whitehills residents, when council members greeted his green sidewalk proposition with stares.
Whitehills is a subdivision in East Lansing. I tried to do a Google search to find pictures of what, exactly, a green sidewalk looks like, but it was confounded by all the results being about eco-friendly sidewalks rather than sidewalks made of literally green concrete.
I’m not familiar with Whitehills, but the street they were especially opposed to having sidewalks installed on, Whitehills Drive, does currently have sidewalks installed on both sides according to Google Street View, so evidently they lost the battle sooner or later. I find it nearly impossible to get into the headspace of someone who is so opposed to having sidewalks installed in their neighborhood that they would take the matter to court, but that’s why I’m the one writing this blog.
This is the newest stamp I saw on my recent brief (and very cold) walk on Oakland Drive in East Lansing. It’s on the west side of the street between Grand River and Roseland. The Able stamp is ordinary enough, but it’s a date style I don’t think I’ve seen them use, or at least, not so often.
This is another stamp I collected during my brief, very old, walk on Oakland Drive in East Lansing last week. It’s from the west side of the street, a short way north of Grand River Avenue.
It’s not all that interesting to look at, but it is a relatively uncommon variation of Able Concrete stamp. (Able stamps are not quite as common as Cantu and Son[s], but they are up there.)
Sometimes when I’m driving around town I’ll pick a neighborhood street at random to divert into to look for sidewalk stamps. This time I was driving home from the Meridian Mall on Grand River Avenue and made a snap decision to turn into a street I had never noticed the existence of before, Oakland Drive.
The street was an odd mixture of midcentury ranch homes and 1920s English cottage and Tudor style. It’s a narrow street, with sidewalk erratically appearing and disappearing on both sides. In front of one of the older homes I found this Eastlund Concrete stamp dated 1975. It’s on the west side of the street between Grand River and Roseland.
The contractor must stamp the concrete with the contractor name and current year at the limits of the pour, using a professionally manufactured/fabricated stamp ONLY. No other methods will be allowed.
This is the first one I’ve found that is particular about the nature of the stamp. Apparently East Lansing didn’t want any of these kinds of shenanigans.
This is the last of my photos from the expedition into the Pinecrest neighborhood. I had walked into the Coolidge Court strip mall to take some sunset photos of it. There’s something about the architecture I have always found appealing, even though it’s quite dated.
Perhaps not “even though” but rather, in part, because it’s dated. It reminds me a lot of the station of a roller coaster that was my favorite when I was young, Iron Dragon at Cedar Point. Iron Dragon was built in 1987. So was Coolidge Court.
While poking around the plaza, I noticed a winding little sidewalk tucked off in a corner, not drawing much attention to itself. I was surprised and delighted to see that it was a cut-through between the shopping center and Rolling Brook Lane. I have always liked these kinds of “secret” pedestrian ways.
When I got home I did some searching to learn a bit about Coolidge Court, and that’s when I found it: a listing on Loop.net announcing its imminent redevelopment and inviting new tenants. The concept drawings remove everything I find likable about the building. All the better that I took pictures, I suppose. The listing also trumpets, “Now with Sunday hours!” What’s that all about?
I soon found out from East Lansing Info. It turns out that when Coolidge Court was built, it required a zoning change, as it was originally vacant residential-zoned land. The residents of Pinecrest were persuaded to go along with a zoning change as long as several conditions were placed on the development. These included that end of Rolling Brook would be capped off so traffic could not cut through the subdivision (leaving the cul-de-sac that caught my attention as I drove past), that a pedestrian walk be installed between Rolling Brook and the new development, and that no Sunday sales or food service would be permitted.
The developers proceeded to try to have the Sunday sales restriction removed in 1987, 1989, and 1995, and finally in 2020. Despite the written objections of several residents (note that some of them spell the street name “Rollingbrook”), the Planning Commission recommended the restriction be removed, which evidently it has been. It also appears that the developer is trying to prod at the restriction against food service in order to have a coffee shop or similar. The original language disallows “the commercial cooking or baking of any food” and explicitly prohibits fast food establishments, but it could be argued that a coffee shop doesn’t violate the letter of the restrictions.
Continuing on my stamp-collecting expedition into the Pinecrest neighborhood, I found this stamp on Rolling Brook Lane north of Red Leaf. At the time it was totally illegible to me, but I took photos in hope that they would make the name visible. Sometimes that works, and this time it did. Once home, I was pretty sure that the first word was Fessler and the second started with a B – likely Bowman, since I am already familiar with Fessler & Bowman. The difference is that all the previous Fessler & Bowman stamps I have found were quite recent, from 2016 and 2017. This one is from the 1960s and based on being able to make out a flat line on top of the last number I am pretty sure it is a 5.
According to the company history on Fessler & Bowman’s Web site, the business started in 1963, so this is one of their early works.
Here, by the way, is the corner of Rolling Brook Lane and Red Leaf Lane. You can see why I initially noted the name of the street as “Rollingbrook.”