Negelcted Neon Number 1

Not only do Ghost Signs/Ads fascinate me, but so do old, forgotten neon signs.

I guess it's fair to say that neon sign making may be a dying art. Without doing any research or consulting with sign makers, I will base that statement purely on the fact that I just don't see as much neon as I used to.

These faded, neon-less neon signs are sad reminders of bygone days. When I see what's left of these signs, I am struck by how time ravages everything. To think that there was a proud, beaming shop owner watching with pride as his/her sign was hoisted up and lit for the first time, beckoning people from all over to their business and then to see these mostly forgotten relics of that time, far from their glory days leaves me with a bit of melancholy.

Here's the first two that I've collected...

Woodland Avenue in SW Philly, now a west African grocery...

This first picture shows the now neon-less sign for an auto parts store. While it is nice to see that the building itself is still in use for business purposes, and not one of many boarded up hulks on Woodland Avenue, there is still a feeling of loss for what once was. I can almost see the owner of the auto parts store standing across the street, chest puffed out a bit, as he saw the (probably) red neon flicker for the first time. This was his big moment. This was his time to draw the customers in. This was his chance to pay off the loan from his in-laws and finally prove that he wasn't the screw-up they believed stole their daughter away.

Southern end of Lancaster City, not sure if the building is in use at all right now. Barely managed to get the cell phone out in time...

Mr. Rebman must have been so proud. Here was his name on the store, the first in what he hoped would be a regional, then national, chain. What did he sell? It doesn't matter. He had a plum location on the outskirts. The city folk could get in and out as well as the rural folk. He'd catch them on the way into town for a day of shopping and marvelling at the newest and best technological doodads for the home. He could see them now, piling out of the big station wagons, boys in uncomfortable starched shirts and suits, Sunday-only shoes pinching all of their toes. Girls in dresses and gloves, clutching their little purses tight, protecting the small fortune in dimes and nickles they'd spend in the candy department. Moms excited to maybe one-up the Smiths across the way; Dads exhausted from working all week on the farm, looking forward to maybe sneaking one at that little taproom just up the block...