Mollie Amburgey, seen first, put together a show with four women who are veterans of the local comedy club circuit. I didn't bring a notebook and I regret that I didn't get the names of the other three. If someone can help me I'll modify the text.
The lighting was hard to work with and the acts were on the raunchy side. Since I am well into the old coot phase of my life it's no wonder that some of the stuff got by me. The younger members of the audience thought it was hilarious.
A few final pictures from The Wizard of Oz(es) at The Fringe. Since I am out of touch with popular culture, I'm sure there were many references I didn't get. Towards the end of the show there were three Dorothys on stage, although I never understood the purpose of the last one. At the very end, there was a cameo by Dorothy Parker, which I thought was terribly witty. You have to be of a certain age and literary bent to notice.
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Didn't get a post done yesterday. I photographed 20 of 40 shows in six days and this old body runs low on gas sooner than it used to. Anyway, this was my favorite show of The Fringe, The Wizard Of Oz(es), a mash up of all the movies and stage shows on the theme. I've only seen the original Judy Garland film so I'm sure I missed references. Eight pictures is enough for one post. I'll probably have more tomorrow.
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Purple skies and purple paint at the Fourth of July carnival in Webster Groves, the town where I live. City Daily Photo members from around the world drape themselves in the royal color at https://citydailyphoto.org/2026/07/23/august-gallery-purple/ .
I drive by this place occasionally and it has always seemed mysterious. Plain facade of a building on the edge of the Soulard neighborhood, near the huge Anheuser-Busch brewery. So I looked up the website, https://www.sbacstl.org/, and it is stranger than I thought. Not my hangout.
A gate in the flood wall along the Mississippi, part of the graffiti-permitted Paint Louis section. The river lies just beyond the trees. I've never seen this gate closed, but then I wouldn't drive by if the water was that high.
Yeah, we have some passenger rail service in this country. I wish we had a lot more, like Europe or Japan. We have good memories of being whisked from Avignon to Paris on the TGV, or Tokyo to Kyoto on the Shinkansen. Our town has service to Kansas City and Chicago. It takes a little longer than driving but is so much more comfortable. Looking forward to October when we go from Prague to Vienna to Budapest by train.
I occasionally drive by a strange sort-of junk yard, a full city block surrounded by a tall chain link fence. It is full of the remains of military aircraft. The inventory slowly changes. I don't know where it comes or where it goes. The place contains a truck repair shop and, according to what is available online, the owner says he wants to preserve history.
Down and out philosophy in my favorite post-industrial ruins near the Arch and the Mississippi. Doesn't leave any room for reassessment, growth, the unforeseen or bad choices. For your Philosophy 101 exam, discuss and critique.
Railroad engineers snatched out of their cabs? Scary. For those unfamiliar with the particularly American theological concept, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rapture .
Mid-town St. Louis, as urban as it gets around here. It doesn't seem like a good location for a huge golf driving range but there it is, doing enough business to have been around several years. The Target is a mini store compared to the usual suburban iterations, set in the ground floor of a new apartment complex. It is all mid-way between St. Louis University's main campus and the south/medical campus. BTW, looking generally east on Chouteau from Grand.
That's Big Boy's engine number for the Union Pacific Railroad. This was as close as I could get with my longest lens when it was at St. Louis Union Station Saturday. The thing exudes power.
During World War II, the Union Pacific Railroad built a group of enormous locomotives to move material, known as Big Boys. Only one of them, Number 4014, is still operational. https://www.up.com/about-us/history/steam/big-boy-4014 Every few years the company trots it out for a coast to coast tour, stopping in St. Louis yesterday. The viewing area was so poorly laid out that no one could get beyond the front of the unit and the crush of people was intolerable. This other engine, with its semiquincentennial theme, had plenty of room.
Big Boy will pass close to our home this morning on its way to Kansas City so I will see if I can get a better shot.
Seen while stopped at a traffic light. I assume this is a utility or telecom box. I'll stop by to see the finished product.
South of the Arch and hard by the Mississippi sits and old industrial area, mostly vacant now. There were well-advanced plans for a multi-use redevelopment using some of the buildings in the background. Something over a year ago intense fire swept through the structures with the now-blank windows. The future is unknown.
Noted on my way out of Soulard Market after the Bastille Day stuff. It was getting late on Saturday afternoon and things were beginning to wind down. Black Diamond is an odd name for watermelon (sounds like it would hurt to bite into it) but they are dark.
The mock Bastille Day festivities began and ended outside our historic Soulard Farmers Market, https://tinyurl.com/2s4xmfu8, established in 1779. The current building opened in 1929. Vendors sell all kinds of foods down the four long arms, with unusual shops in the center. I assume the sign is to draw attention, but does Spider Man shop here?
As has been noted in these pages, St. Louis loves an excuse to drink in public. As the mob followed the king and queen on Soulard Bastille Day, many had bottles or cans in hand. Some of those too unsteady to walk the route rode golf carts, voiturettes de golf, flying le tricolore.
Happy Bastille Day to all our French friends. This town was founded by a pair of French explorer-traders. Our originally French Soulard neighborhood holds an annual tongue-in-cheek celebration of the revolution, wherein the royal couple are chased very slowly from one to another of the several local bars, ending at a mock execution at le rasoir national.
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