Cape Girardeau History and Photos

October 15, 2014

Better Than I had Expected

I did a post October 1, 2014, where I was chasing a sunset. In it I mentioned that I had missed making a good shot a few days earlier because the light went away before I could I could change my exposure.

I have to get a bunch of prints edited tonight and off to Kid Matt for an exhibit in Altenburg on October 23, so I was looking for something that wouldn’t require much research. In sifting though what I had talen recently, I ran across the bad sunset photo. It was about three stops underexposed, but I could see the golden tassels that attracted my attention. Click on the photo to make it larger.

Can I bring it to life?

The first thing I did was crop out a lot of the sky because it was blown out. I went so far as to crop out ALL the sky and planned to let the golden reflection in the water puddle carry the theme. Doing that made the composition awkward because the cornfield didn’t look “right,” so I loosened it back up. It still might be a tad tight.

The next step was to boost the highlights to emphasize the backlit weeds. Next, I brought down the shadows. That made the contrast greater. I opened up the midtones a little so you could see the details in the green grass. The cornfield had gone an ugly dark color, so I “dodged” the shadow areas and the highlights to bring out the “cornness.” [The spellchecker doesn’t like that word. If it doesn’t exist, it SHOULD.]

So, I was able to dig into a digital darkroom bag of tricks to save a photo I was ready to discard. Interestingly enough, the first frame of a total of 10 exposures taken in less than 60s seconds was the best. What I like is that even though the picture was “saved” in the darkroom, it is faithful to the way my eye saw it when it was taken.

It ain’t great art, but it’ll do so I can get on with my other work for the night.

Here’s the original

You can see why I thought it was a goner when I first saw it.

October 15, 2014October 15, 2014

605 Good Hope: Ruh’s Super Market

The nondescript building at 605 Good Hope looked familiar, but I couldn’t place what had been in there over the years. A quick Internet search showed that for the longest time, it was Ruh’s Super Market.

Fred Lynch’s Missourian blog has a Frony photo that will show you what it looked like right after it opened in 1936. Fred has a nice summary of the history of the building and its owner, Frank C. Ruh, in his post.

Here is Mr. Ruh’s obituary from the February 13, 1959, Missourian. He died at 77, after nearly 52 years in retail business. He and G.H. Gross opened Gross and Ruh Market at the corner of Good Hope and Frederick in 1907. When Mr. Gross died in 1931, he continued operation of the business and moved to 605 Good Hope in 1936.

[Editor’s note: the obituary said Gross died in 1931; Fred’s account says 1932. It’s not uncommon for obits to be different than contemporary reporting. Obits are frequently based on memories, not research.]

1954 Ruh’s advertisement

For some reason, we never shopped at Ruh’s. I don’t know if Mother didn’t like the business or if she preferred to shop at Hirsch’s Midtown Grocery on Sprigg if we were in Haarig. This ad ran in the May 24, 1954, Missourian.

Thompson’s TV and Appliances

After Ruh’s death, Thompson’s TV and Appliances moved into 605 Good Hope in 1961. This advertisement ran in the May 17 Missourian.

VIP Industries came in 1967

VIP Industries, a sheltered workshop, moved into the facility in 1967. By 1982, a Missourian story reported, VIP employed almost 300 handicapped residents in a five-county area here, in Marble Hill and in Perryville.

I don’t know what is in the building today.

October 14, 2014

Runoff, Rainbows and Wet Roads

The weather alert radio was busy this afternoon with severe storm warnings, tornado watches and warnings. We did a bunch of running around between showers and drizzles, but beat feet home before the bad stuff got here. The trees bent down for a bit and there were a few times when we couldn’t see across the street, but it moved on quickly.

The storm water system constructed in the mid-80s wasn’t nearly so full as it was when a frog-strangler hit in 2011, but you can see it’s still moving quite a bit of water. The lighter-colored water passing under South Kingshighway is Cape LaCroix Creek; the darker water being held back on the right is what drains down from neighborhoods to the north.

I wonder if the people in that brick office building know that when I was growing up on Bloomfield Road in the ’50s that it was a packing house of some kind. There was a little dam across the creek there and the building discharged something that, when the wind was right/wrong, stunk to high heaven.

Double, maybe triple rainbows

We drove around town for bit, paused at the riverfront, then headed west on Broadway. In the rearview mirror, I could see a rainbow, but wasn’t sufficiently impressed to stop. I pulled into a parking lot to check out the Mexican restaurant across from Houck Stadium. When I looked up this time, the rainbow was much brighter, so I went to the car for my camera. Much to my surprise, when I got out to the street, it had turned into a double rainbow. The second one isn’t quite as bright, but, trust me, it’s there. For a second, I thought I saw a third rainbow, but I could have been mistaken.

Coming into Jackson

We were on our way to Jackson shortly after the rainbows when a thin stretch of the horizon under the dark storm clouds flamed bright orange. I rushed out to North County Park to try to get a high, clear vantage point, but the light was gone by the time I got into position.

The best I could come up with of the end of the storm was a night shot coming down the hill into Jackson.

Click on the photos to make them larger. There has been a software change that I have to tweak. You can still use the arrow keys to move through the photos and press the X or ESC key to exit them. I’ll see if I can get it to look more like what you were used to seeing.

October 12, 2014October 13, 2014

“New” Franklin School

I decided it was time to take a closer look at the front of the “new” Franklin Elementary School. It faces south toward Themis, rather than east toward Louisiana.

The “School with No Name”

Franklin School opened its doors in 1927, but it did it without a name on the front of the school. It was the only school in the district with no outward identification.

It wasn’t until 1971 that the 8-inch-high white plastic letters were placed above the door. Money for the sign was raised by the Student Council, which sold school supplies and held a used book sale.

This photo of the now-demolished old Franklin was taken in 2010.