Last week, as I passed by on a damp, grey afternoon, the downtown institution wasn't looking so grand:
In fact, I'm wondering if it will ever be "GRAND" again:
I know. No need to press the panic button. Le Grand Hôtel Broussy is only being remodeled, and I'm sure it needs it.
Yet as I saw traces of its bright red past being tossed unceremoniously out its windows, I felt a wave of personal regret. I would never see it in all its delapidated glory.
Or could I glimpse at the interior, before it was too late?
I walked up toward the dusty lobby entrance, where a narrow door was, miraculously, open.
I dared to step in. The lobby was dirty and dreary, with a few pieces of wooden furniture strewn about. An immense dining or breakfast room lay to my right, bereft of furnishings.
Too quickly, a burly worker stomped down the main staircase. He looked at me. I scurried out.