from wilted tracts of poison sumac and clouds of choking coal dust a manufactory arose, milling silk amidst the rust

for more than fifty years it spun soft fabrics near the mines but as comes to pass with all things it fell to hard times

But the structure was reborn as a five-storey grand hotel though it served for only three years before the arsonists' farewell

The worst in the city's history the smoke and flame, they claimed nine lives consumed but for the ground floor the structure yet survives

The ghosts of ages past underlie the feelings and emotions revelers oblivious to the significance of their weekend night devotions as the patrons drink their Genesee the place's rich and tragic legacy makes the stories told here all the more unique

the plans for grand new Walnut Towers fell to overzealous ambition but once more from the burned ashes grew a different tradition

The remaining walls became a venue where musicians plied their trade folks came from all across the region to hear the songs they played

thirty years of hard rock covers the words of overlooked songwriters backdrop to requiems and celebrations as the game of life transpires

today the wrecking balls met drywall the Coal Hole fell to modern progress talk of new lofts and restaurants letting go of past regrets

The ghosts of ages past underlie the feelings and emotions revelers oblivious to the significance of their weekend night devotions where the patrons drank their Genesee those with sharp eyes just might see spirits of maids, spinners and bartenders gather there for one last drink