Does anyone have pictures or stories from when the Ripsaw was housed in the Temple Opera Building?
I rent and work out of Room 208 in the Temple Opera Building. Legend has it that the Ripsaw was once published out of this office. I’d love to see some photos and hear some stories about those days in this space.
Most of the statutes of limitations have expired.
The post “Remembering the Ripsaw’s Transition” from earlier this year includes a photo of publishers Brad Nelson and Cord Dada in the office.
I don’t remember the Ripsaw office number, but it was on the second floor, above Roundabout Records, at the end of a hall, next to the door that leads down the stairs to Superior Street.
The Ripsaw started out in Rick Kolluth’s studio in the DeWitt-Seitz Marketplace at the end of 1998.
I think it was the summer of 1999 that it moved into the Wieland Block (then known as the Corner of the Lake Building). That office was also the living space of a guy named Michael Guillet, if I remember and spell correctly.
I think March 1, 2000, was the Ripsaw’s move-in date at the Temple Opera Building. After Christmas 2000 we moved into the Torrey Building.
I’m pretty sure this picture was taken at the Ripsaw’s office in the Temple Opera Building. The office number is on the transom in the background, but I can’t quite make it out and it’s probably in reverse.
I can tell you that Paul’s shirt says, “Duluth YMCA Wrestling.”
That’s our office (as described by Paul and in the reverse number – 208).
It’s a great little office. It didn’t work well for the Ripsaw, though, because we crammed a half-dozen people and two dogs into it every day. Walking from one end to the other was seldom easy.
We only have two people and one dog, so it’s working out quite fine. Thanks for the info and pics!
I’ve got two more for you. Here’s Brad Nelson washing the office windows on March 11, 2000.
And here’s Tony Dierckins and Kerry Elliot proofreading a review of the movie Hanging Up on April 2, 2000.
Why is the past always black and white? Weird.
I remember, the Ripsaw was moving out at the same time I was moving into Temple Opera, the 3rd floor (where I still have an office). We overlapped by two months, as I moved there in Jan. 2000. Was it Brad or Cord who told me as they were moving out, how cool it’d been working out of Temple Opera and how he hoped they’d return someday. Yeah.
My dad had his violin shop somewhere in there for a while in the mid 1980s. I have very dim memories of an incredibly scary bathroom. Oh, and them building a bum shelter that I believe they boarded up almost immediately.
The bathrooms remain unchanged, but they’re not all that scary. Except when the passed out guy with the six pack of Coors was found at 4 in the afternoon one day.
Yes, I find six packs of Coors frightening.
Look at the cute little macs! Is that SETI@home?
Yep.
Ha! Yay SETI!
Ahh … yeah good times … good times … the one column with the wandering drunk was sort of funny — as in funny to read about a stinking socialist wasting his life away. Bwwahaaa!
Here’s one where the past isn’t in black and white.
This photo is undated, but the presence of Browser’s N’ETc. and RoundAbout Records means it falls roughly within the Ripsaw era.
That photo of Brad Nelson ‘washing the window’? I don’t think he’s holding a washcloth. It looks like he’s holding a cat. Or maybe a baby doll.
He would wash the windows with newspapers.
It is indeed a newspaper, but yeah, it does look like a doll.
I’d say that pic is late 2001 or early 2002. It’s after I put the plastic flower boxes out but before I put up the Wellstone 2002 campaign sign (both of which are still there).
Apocalyptic Scenario #578: Gentrification Oblivion
It was a tiny clapboard house on the hillside. An aging furnace fought off the Fall chill. Drawing from a hollow sounding green oil tank in the corner of the basement, it kicks on every half an hour sending a sooty waft of warmth up through the forced air vents in a vain attempt to confuse the season that its time has not yet come. The greasy bakelight radio on top of the leaking fridge blurts out local call-in customers to an auction-of-the-air. The old man waits. His time has come. Picking up the phone he calls in and wins two tickets to the movies for the price of a cup of coffee. The lawn is over grown and he can’t stomach what he sees from behind the faded curtains. The Winters get milder each year. Soon they’ll all want to live in this place, the old man hopes he can be around to see his sleepy little town become Monte Carlo.