They were eastern European immigrants, completely integrated into the ways of American society. They were doting, loving parents; rarely does television depict such a highly functional family. They were the Munsters, and they existed to teach us all valuable, eternal lessons: build hot rods out of hearses and caskets. Let your home be overrun by the Standells and their beatnik buddies. And see that your house is the biggest and spookiest on the block.

After our initial report on The Dome, we promised there’d be more, and there was—the Little BGirl Who Could, a couple of jumpers, a self-slashing Simons pilferer, even the owner of the Dome itself, who Fought the Power like an Eisenhower-era Radio Raheem, rolling his Grafanola down Grand…

…so now it’s time to sew things up, recounting a collection of other Dome-flavored contretemps:

The history of Bunker Hill could not be written without mention of a man who stood up to face the foe. Who fought City Hall; who fought the law, and sure, the law won. But let’s remember the man. Firebrand. Gadfly. Babcock.

It’s 1951, and we’re faced with Proposition C, which sounded just swell: clear the city’s slum areas and replace “ramshackle” tenements with modern apartments. The Times ran large pieces urging the voters to back C, citing a litany of political, business and union leaders supporting the measure (veterans’ organizations termed the measure “a solution of a vital civic problem in the American way”).

Monday, January 14, 1963

Date: March 26, 1947

Having described the Dome to you in some detail, we figured it would be in the interest of OBH readers to be kept abreast of the hotel’s tenants. Enter Carl F. Brannon.

Carl called 201 South Grand home. He worked down at the Simon’s Drive-In at 3607 South Figueroa, as manager no less. A man of quality. And bravery, to take on such a dangerous job.

Location: 201 South Grand Avenue
Date: June 9, 1931

Richard Veit, mechanic, resident of the Minnewaska, aged 67 (or so it appears, through the blotchy ink of the news clipping), took his life today by leaping from the eastern end of the Second Avenue tunnel. He was gravely injured, but managed to tell detectives he had been chronically ill for many years and wanted to die, which he soon did after arrival at Georgia Street Receiving Hospital. He left a note to a Mrs. F.A. Schofield in Chicago directing her to dispose of his property there.

July 14, 1949

Grace E. Smith made the Dome her home. From there she made the trek to work down to the Belmont Grill. It’s 1949. She’s a B-girl.

The Minnewaska, aka The Dome, played host to no small quantity of characters over the course of her life. Over the course of this blog you’ll be introduced to your fair share of them. Here then is a brief introduction to this, their home.

Our first mention of the Minnewaska comes in the form of this notice regarding building permits, January 11, 1903:

She is completed within the year and on December 20 described in the Times thusly:

This is the famous Minnewaska Hotel which sat at the corner of 3rd & Grand. On July 26th, 1964 fire engulfed the venerable old building, which hosted 63 units. The open central stairway was blamed on the blaze which spread like a blowtorch, killing one tenant and injuring six others.

Slated for demolition in 1967, it was rumored that the fire was intentionally started to stir up support for quicking the rehabilitation of the hill, which was simply another way of hastening it's complete demolition to make way for commercial buildings which fit into the CRA (Community Redevelopment Agency)'s agenda.