Central Bus Depot - Portland, Oregon

I bought this card for several reasons: 1. It makes a bus depot look stylish. 2. It's in Portland, where I live 3. The message on the back is typed. It's not that I don't like handwriting, but there's something amusing about a typed postcard - and typing allows the sender to write a longer message. And, of course, it's so easy to read.

The depot was there until 2000, although at that point it was no longer used as a bus depot. The building became the venue for various nightclubs after a new bus depot was built in the 1980s. Over the years, it gradually became fairly seedy and was eventually slated for demolition.  Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club,  also wrote a book entitled Fugitives and Refugees: A Walk In Portland, Oregon, where he recounts a late-night illicit party in the abandoned depot building. He describes how people rolled bowling balls down makeshift lanes of votive candles. Instead of bowling pins, the targets were china and  knick-knacks from junk stores. He also describes running through tunnels that connected the bus lube pits.

The card was sent to Corporal Lute H. Defrieze during World War II when he was stationed at Camp Adair, just north of Corvallis, Oregon. Part of Camp Adair is now a wildlife area, and another part of is the city of Adair Village, with a population of about 1,000.

The sender, F.K.M., had an office in the Lumbermen's Building, which is now on the National Register of Historic Places and known as the Oregon Trail Building. It's about five blocks up the street from where the bus depot used to stand.

Marienplatz, Munich - Germany

These postcards show streetcars running through Munich's main square. The main square was a market place already in the Middle Ages, and is still a hopping place, particularly since it's now a pedestrian zone. There are no longer streetcars running through the square, but you can descend the stairs to the underground U-Bahn station and connect to local subway routes and longer distance S-Bahn to the suburbs and the airport.  The main train station is only a few stops away from Marienplatz, and from there you can connect to long-distance trains to destinations throughout Europe.

The Ailing Professor

This lovely card was sent to me by Lily Hydrangea of the Long Island Daily Photo. She and her family stopped at the Brattle Book Shop in Boston, where in addition to books there were lots of old postcards. They collectively debated over which postcard to send me and finally agreed on this one. It's especially amusing and touching because I have never met Lily or her family before, but she had read my blog and thought I would appreciate the card.  And she was right. You can read her post about the bookshop here.

There's something so bucolic about all of these people relaxing in the park. I wonder if they were listening to a band or simply conversing.

The back of the card has an intriguing message.

The message sent to Marinda Locke in 1923 reads:

Martha's Vineyard

Dear Marilockie:

We start on our homeward trip tomorrow and by Friday afternoon I shall be telephoning to know how you and our professor are. My love to you both and to your dear brave mother. K.L.B.

I found some information in the Mount Holyoke College archives that may help to explain this message: Marinda Adams Locke graduated from Mount Holyoke College in 1893. She worked at various schools before becoming a nurse in 1898. Thereafter she worked at a hospital in Boston, Massachusetts. It sounds as if she never married.

Her sister Adelaide Locke also graduated from Mount Holyoke (1892) - and from the Hartford Theological Seminary (1896). She taught Biblical History at Wellesley, and according to the book In Adamless Eden: The Community of Women Faculty at Wellesley by Patricia Ann Palmieri, she lived with her mother.
So, why does the message refer to the 'dear brave mother'? Well, it seems that her daughter the professor was probably in ill health, since she died the following year. Presumably Marinda was there to help with nursing duties. Marinda lived until 1951.