Muncie Mall is coming down. The three-screen cinema is already gone, reduced to a bare concrete pad. Outside the old Sears Auto Center, a mountain of broken concrete hints that the interior of the 129,000-square-foot department store1 has already been gutted. Now, all signs point to JCPenney as the next casualty.
Continue reading “Muncie’s JCPenney waits for the wrecking ball”
When most people think of Muncie, they probably don’t. Still, public art is on wide display here, with works by Daniel Chester French, Cyrus Dallin, and E.M. Viquesney. My favorites are the creations of Richard Kishel. One of his most striking pieces wraps around two sides of the Delaware Dental Solutions building on West Washington Street.
Continue reading “The fantastic art on a downtown Muncie dental office”
Not that long ago, I wrote about exploring Gas City’s magnificent 1924 gym with my friend Brett Yoder of Hoosier Gym Journey. Reaching it meant walking through the connected old high school, and I realized that it was every bit as fascinating as the gym. Converted into senior apartments twenty-two years ago, an astonishing number of its original architectural details have been preserved! The old school deserved a closer look.
Continue reading “Inside Gas City’s 1893 high school”
Krackel vs. Crunch. On paper, this brawl couldn’t be much fairer. Both are simple candy bars built around the same basic idea: milk chocolate packed with crisped rice. No layers of caramel, peanuts, nougat, or wafers muddy the waters! Still, despite sharing nearly identical ingredients and debuting the very same year, these two bars have followed remarkably different paths. One became a candy aisle icon. The other was relegated to the bottom of a a multi-pack. That raises an obvious question: which one got the formula right?
Continue reading “Candy Clash: Krackel vs. Crunch”
The interurban electric railway hasn’t carried passengers through central Indiana for more than eighty years. If you slow down, though, traces of it still hide in plain sight. One of the most prominent survivors is Hartford City’s old traction station at the southeast corner of South Jefferson and East Water Streets.
Continue reading “The old Union Traction station in Hartford City”
I was browsing a used bookstore in Anderson’s Southdale Plaza when I realized I was only a couple of doors away from a flea market in a former Marsh Supermarket. That was all the excuse I needed to take a look! I went in curious to see whether any evidence of the building’s grocery-store past still lingered beneath the flea market shelves. Here’s a look at what remains, along with the story behind the building.
Continue reading “Traces of Marsh inside Anderson’s Southdale Plaza”
I’d heard rumors of a Lustron house in Hagerstown, Indiana, for a couple of years, but nothing ever came from them. I drove around town with my mom once trying to find it, then revisited the area a few times on my own. Finally, someone from a Facebook group set me straight! I had no choice but to find the place posthaste. Unfortunately, it’s almost unrecognizable.
Continue reading “The Lustron in Hagerstown”
I have a soft spot for the tiny hamlets, villages, and unincorporated communities most people drive through without a second thought. After my recent post about Reed Station, a reader suggested I tackle another Delaware County community: Shideler. Considering my last name, I’ll try to put my biases at rest and give it a shot.
Continue reading “Welcome to Shideler, Indiana!”
Last I checked in on Elkhart’s old Pierre Moran Mall, the future of what’s now known as Woodland Crossing seemed to be shifting: city officials announced plans to purchase the stagnant site for $5 million. The plan intended to transform the property into a new “neighborhood hub” with expanded healthcare and job training services through a partnership with Heart City Health and Goodwill Industries1. Back in April, I drove up to Elkhart see what the site looks like today.
Continue reading “Pierre Moran -Woodland Crossing- was supposed to be saved”
Before Pulaski County ever built a county infirmary, it left the care of its poor to the lowest bidder. Residents competed for contracts to house the county’s most vulnerable, with the cheapest offer winning. For some, it meant a safe home and compassionate care. For others, it meant a life of exploitation as unpaid laborers in the very homes entrusted with their welfare1.
Continue reading “Indiana’s Pulaski County Home”