Some streets shed their names as often as their trees release their leaves (“Prune” became “Christy,” which turned “Green” and is now “Lucas”). But the curse of the sign continues, for if a street is called “Elm,” all its trees will die of that disease if dubbed “Main” or “Central,” “Market” or “Bank,” the associated businesses will fail within the year. Mencken’s statement, in his classic study The American Language, that “every American town of any airs has a Great White Way…” is no longer true. What we now call political correctness has made sure H.L. Petersburg,” then back again) if the name is a piece of ballyhoo, the residents will stubbornly continue using its former title (in New York, “Sixth Avenue” instead of “Avenue of the Americas”). If you are French, your name will be misspelled or mispronounced (“creeve core” for “Creve Coeur”) if you are German, it will be replaced, during the heated days of war, by an emblem of patriotic hatred (“Pershing” for “Berlin”) if the name commemorates a historic revolutionary occasion, the street’s signs will be torn down as soon as angry citizens change their political orientation (“Leningrad” for “St. It is risky having a street named for you.
There is quite a lot of empty sidewalk, but, hey, it is Sunday morning, the shops are closed, and, since this street belongs to Martin Luther King, local people-or at least those who prefer to pray in public-are attending church.
I let my white eyes walk this long stretch of street because my eyes are so much faster than my feet. Gass / Photographs (below) by Michael Eastman
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