Death in the Primrose Hotel Chatper 2 cont’d.

In addition to these open businesses and to the ghosts of the boarded up businesses around the square sat the Roxie Theatre, on the corner of South and West Street directly across the square from the Primrose Hotel. At the other end of the block of South Street at East Street was the Town hall and adjoining police station and next to it the library.
The old theatre was build during the heyday of the grand movie palaces and at the same time as the Primrose Hotel. I thought that movie theatres in those days theaters were named either Roxie or Bijou or in the case of some studio owned movie houses, after the studios itself. The marquee, however, listed a current movie that Vanessa and I talked about seeing just last week in Washington.
The theatre as well as all the buildings around the square were dingy and grimy and could use a good coat of paint but I doubted very seriously if they’d ever see new paint again in this lifetime. The town’s people walked slowly around the square as if life had no further interest in them. They looked defeated, like dead men walking.
We entered the Primrose Hotel lobby. Even with its age and rundown condition, I could see in my mind’s eye the magnificence that once was this hotel in its prime.
We joined the tour just as our tour guide started her presentation. The tour group consisted of four couples of which Vanessa and I were by far the youngest. The other three couples appeared to be in their sixties and maybe they were trying to relive their childhood memories or maybe even their courting days.
“Ladies and Gentlemen the Primrose Hotel is old, crumbling and will be coming down starting next Monday morning, just two days away.” Our tour guide was a woman somewhere in her mid seventies. Tucked in the sleeve of her powder blue shirtwaist dress with a white lace collar and cuffs was a dainty white lace handkerchief. Her blueish white hair was neatly styled and she wore gold frame glasses hanging on a gold chain around her neck. She walked slowly with the aid of a carved oak cane.


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