When We Built Things Better

My daily drives take me through small towns, villages, and cities.  I see a lot of sights and listen to a lot of podcasts and listen to a lot of audiobooks.  I like observing things - scenic landscape that you'll miss if you are distracted.  I'm not much of a builder.  In fact, when I build things, the corners aren't square and it's not pretty.  I mostly build stuff for our little homestead farm and I've discovered that the animals aren't concerned with fine craftsmanship.

But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it when I see it.  I know one type of architecture I don't like, though.  Brutalist architecture.  Brutalist architecture is defined as "minimalist constructions that showcase the bare building materials and structural elements over decorative design."  Google an example.  It's just not pretty.  I mean, if you're going to build something, build something pretty.  

Today, many buildings are thrown together quickly and cheaply.  Even McDonald's used to have character.  Now, they are just modular, box-like construction.  Most small towns you drive through have a Dollar General and a closed down Family Dollar.  The town now boasts a cavernous, metallic building that is empty with weeds growing up in the parking lot.

There was a time when we built things better.  Less than 10 miles north of my home right off of LA Hwy 26 sits this beautiful old building.  I've long admired it.

I've searched for information about what it is, but cannot find anything on the internet.  I stopped my vehicle and walked around it the other day.

I looked inside of it for clues of what it might have been used for, but found nothing.

I want you to look at the detail on this building.  I think it says, "L. I. & M.C - L. P. Elberson"  Again, I couldn't find anything about this on the internet.  See, in the old days, things were built to last.  You signed your name to what you built, proud of the endeavor.  You put the year it was built on the building, because you built it with quality materials, expert skilled labor, and you knew it was going to last.  Perhaps someone almost a century later would stop their car and walk around it, admiring what you built. 

I'm not sure of what this building was, but I'm going to guess based on some clues I saw.  I think this building housed an engine and a pump.  Jefferson Davis Parish is rice farming country.  Rice requires water.  Lots of water.  People either drill deep water wells or use surface water pumped down canals from the nearby Bayou Nezpique or relifted out of numerous gullies.  The backside of this building seems to sit against the remnants of a canal.

Canals have long since been bulldozed and underground pipelines run to make water delivery more efficient and quicker than canals where evaporation, seepage, and leaks rob you of water needed in the rice field.  I'm guessing this building housed a pump or relift station that delivered water.

In 1936, they were still technically in the Great Depression, and yet, they expended the cost and effort to build a beautiful building that is still standing and still looks regal and appealing.  I tip my hat to you, Mr. L.P. Elberson.  Job Well Done.

As I walked back to my car admiring the building, I almost stepped on this poor fellow.  He was probably admiring the building, too, and didn't see the on-coming traffic.  A similar fate awaited me if I didn't get back to my car.

If anyone can clue me in on what this building really was, I'd be interested to know.