I notice two ladies in a window about the word "Boys." It's always bittersweet to remember that at one point somebody knew "That's me and my friend Mary. We happened to look at the window at just the right time."

As a native Detroiter I always look forward to learning something new about the old city(?). The "streetcar rails" that Doug notices are not from long ago but are from the current era of downtown Detroit. They belong to our most recent effort at mass transit called the Q-line, which runs up and down Woodward (Detroit's main drag) for a couple of miles. Like the elevated People Mover, it's another half-hearted attempt to have mass transit in a city built on the automobile.

You can buy solid gold eyeglasses and spectacles for a dollar, but you need to walk outside to see if they work because their banner covers up all the windows on the building.

From 1905 to 1909, you had to register your car with the State. They gave you a number and you had to make your own license plate (usually with house address numbers on a strip of leather). In 1910, Michigan finally began issuing plates.

The Schwankovsky Temple of Music gets high marks for architecture and naming creativity, but marketing-wise it seems to have backward thinking: the sign is only -- or at least most -- legible to outbound traffic. So rather than advertise to those entering the downtown, with the day ahead of them, it caters to those already in a hurry to get home.

One thing's for sure. If you're looking for a good piano, turn of the century Detroit is the place to go!

Not much remains that you can see in the 1907 photo. But I believe the building with the rounded corner and the Knabe Pianos sign atop it is the building below in Street View. If you swing to the left, you'll see the intersection of Woodward Avenue and Witherell Street (at the elevated rail overpass). And if you pan down a little, you'll see Woodward Avenue still has streetcar rails. Knabe pianos are still made and are still high quality. But the F. J. Schwankovsky company is history.

Ol Nelly doesn't look she'll smoke anybody this afternoon.