On Ontario, the entrance was central, the soffit was trimmed with post office colors, and the counter area generously proportioned . . .
Today, of course, like everything else, it's all about selling, and cheaply. Why bother designing anything that's not numbingly generic when the whole operation seems to be lurching towards the terminal buggy whip end of the supply chain? It'll be so much cheaper to convert it to a cell phone store or a Seagram's Medical Marijuana outlet when the inevitable transpires.
I have no idea what's going to happen to the old Post Office on Ontario, but it's a good bet it'll follow the kind of deformation in store for the rehabbed bakery and townhouses at 237 East that was the original home of the Museum of Contemporary Art.
Cap Streeter, in the the person of a new, eight-foot-high bronze sculpture by Dennis Downes. The former Mississippi riverboat captain contemplates what's become of the handiwork that he began in 1886 when he ran his steamboat aground on a sand bar about where the Hancock Center is now. For the next thirty years, as the area around him continued to fill with sand and rubble, he sold deeds to property in what he declared the independent "District of Lake Michigan." Having spent the bulk of his life in pitched battle with the fat-cat developers, I'm sure he's calculating in his head what his share should be from the soaring condo towers that have arisen all around him. And probably thinking that his little dog deserves a piece of the action, too.