Isn't it always exciting to discover someone whose birthday falls within one or two days of your own, or especially on your own? I think it is, and even more so if that person was born in the same year, and really exciting if you were born in the same city. Several years ago I met a girl who was born a day before I was, in the same city--and since metropolitan Greenville has but one hospital, we were surely there at the same time.
I do not know why this is so surprising. Even taking the population of Baltimore into consideration, there are a mere 365 days in the year, eight hundred thousand in the city, and nearly two million in the metropolis. Natch, there are more people born at other times of the year than others, so a plain division doesn't truly work, but my calculator tells me that in a metropolitan area of this size, chances are that somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty thousand other people were born on the same day of the year that I was.
And so, the idea of a momentous occasion taking place on my birthday should really come as no surprise whatsoever, but it's always interesting.
For eons now, I've entertained the idea of having my portrait painted. I am an extremely vain being. In my day, I could actually turn some heads; now I still can, but the heads in question tend to be a little bit more whiskey-enriched these days. If I get someone to paint the picture, I'll have to have editing rights to make sure that the portrait shows a dashing young man about town in evening clothes, and not something resembling a bratwurst stuffed into black wool and white pique.
Barring the idea of a portrait, for now--if you can actually find a portraitist worth a damn, these days, it's frightfully expensive--I thought that I might take the rather more proletarian route of a nice studio portrait. Now, there were several nice studios in Baltimore once upon a time, but they've long followed Hutzler's (but not Hauswalds! see previous post) into the grave. Richmond is still possessed of the wonderful old Dementi Studio and it is there that I'll have my soft-focus, sepia toned picture made. The good people at Dementi have made crusty Grace Street dowagers beautiful for ninety years, so they'll surely do a good job of me. No one will recognize me, but the picture will look handsome even if I don't.
In a perfect world I would live in Richmond anyway, and I'd have simply telephoned Dementi and set up an appointment, but it's not a perfect world and I don't, but the imperfect world does offer the 'net, so I found their site. Of course they can do exactly what I want. They also have some pictures from their archive online. I like few things more than views of my favorite city so I spent some happy minutes looking at pictures of Richmond "way back when." There's a picture of Miller and Rhoads in the '20s, before the top two floors were added...an ethereal picture of the Hotel Jefferson, towers rising above the linden trees... a picture of Broad street with about three hundred people busily shopping. And what's this? The thumbnail was titled "Richmond's Last Streetcar."
Well, I couldn't resist that. I'm quite proud of the fact that my two favorite cities made streetcars happen. Richmond had the first electric streetcars in the world and Baltimore had the first fully electrified streetcar system. Both have sadly lost this most effective and useful form of transit. So, I clicked.
Guess when Richmond's last streetcar ran? Precisely twenty years before I was born. I do have a tendency to be late for things, but twenty years late is a bit ridiculous, don't you think? Here's the link to the picture:
http://www.dementi.com/50imageshtml/last-street-car-run-in-richmond.shtml
That picture, if you're not an habitue of Richmond, is on Main street in front of the Post Office. And very clearly dated: November 29, 1949.
It's often said that I'll be late for my own funeral. Unfortunately, I missed the funeral of GRTC by twenty years--to the date.
I do not know why this is so surprising. Even taking the population of Baltimore into consideration, there are a mere 365 days in the year, eight hundred thousand in the city, and nearly two million in the metropolis. Natch, there are more people born at other times of the year than others, so a plain division doesn't truly work, but my calculator tells me that in a metropolitan area of this size, chances are that somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty thousand other people were born on the same day of the year that I was.
And so, the idea of a momentous occasion taking place on my birthday should really come as no surprise whatsoever, but it's always interesting.
For eons now, I've entertained the idea of having my portrait painted. I am an extremely vain being. In my day, I could actually turn some heads; now I still can, but the heads in question tend to be a little bit more whiskey-enriched these days. If I get someone to paint the picture, I'll have to have editing rights to make sure that the portrait shows a dashing young man about town in evening clothes, and not something resembling a bratwurst stuffed into black wool and white pique.
Barring the idea of a portrait, for now--if you can actually find a portraitist worth a damn, these days, it's frightfully expensive--I thought that I might take the rather more proletarian route of a nice studio portrait. Now, there were several nice studios in Baltimore once upon a time, but they've long followed Hutzler's (but not Hauswalds! see previous post) into the grave. Richmond is still possessed of the wonderful old Dementi Studio and it is there that I'll have my soft-focus, sepia toned picture made. The good people at Dementi have made crusty Grace Street dowagers beautiful for ninety years, so they'll surely do a good job of me. No one will recognize me, but the picture will look handsome even if I don't.
In a perfect world I would live in Richmond anyway, and I'd have simply telephoned Dementi and set up an appointment, but it's not a perfect world and I don't, but the imperfect world does offer the 'net, so I found their site. Of course they can do exactly what I want. They also have some pictures from their archive online. I like few things more than views of my favorite city so I spent some happy minutes looking at pictures of Richmond "way back when." There's a picture of Miller and Rhoads in the '20s, before the top two floors were added...an ethereal picture of the Hotel Jefferson, towers rising above the linden trees... a picture of Broad street with about three hundred people busily shopping. And what's this? The thumbnail was titled "Richmond's Last Streetcar."
Well, I couldn't resist that. I'm quite proud of the fact that my two favorite cities made streetcars happen. Richmond had the first electric streetcars in the world and Baltimore had the first fully electrified streetcar system. Both have sadly lost this most effective and useful form of transit. So, I clicked.
Guess when Richmond's last streetcar ran? Precisely twenty years before I was born. I do have a tendency to be late for things, but twenty years late is a bit ridiculous, don't you think? Here's the link to the picture:
http://www.dementi.com/50imageshtml/last-street-car-run-in-richmond.shtml
That picture, if you're not an habitue of Richmond, is on Main street in front of the Post Office. And very clearly dated: November 29, 1949.
It's often said that I'll be late for my own funeral. Unfortunately, I missed the funeral of GRTC by twenty years--to the date.
posted by Daniel | 12:24 AM
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