Premature, I know.
The fifty-foot width of Allen & Son has got to be the handsomest blacksmith shop I’ve seen. My photoshopping skills are fakakta (פֿאַרקאַקט) so this image will probably be butchered in its transition to become Equus & Company. Perhaps the Allen family will continue to be its long-time owner-operators.
Before the automotive age and throughout the transition from horse to horsepower, Agincourt’s motive power was four-legged. Horses’ hooves required shoeing; their poop required scooping. Those without private stables needed a place to keep their horse, as did those with a dairy cow—milk was fresh and whole and unpasteurized. My preliminary plan, with a minimum of tweaking, will fit comfortably behind this handsome façade. (There is, by the way, a second entry off the alley that runs behind.) This image is interesting for other reasons though: the implied two-story building to the left, the curb and pavement, a telephone pole and lines, and the fire hydrant—some of that evidence of infrastructure is yet to be resolved.
Can you see it in the lower righthand corner?
PS [17DEC2019]: Today I learned of the historical fiction editing website “The History Quill” and a piece devoted to writing about horses with authenticity. High time!
PS [07DEC2020]: Why did I forget to append a reference to Allen & Son’s business in San Bernardino, California? There is a business history at Newspapers.com, though you may not be able to see it if you’re not a subscriber. This wonderful bit of memorabilia also comes up during a google search. Anyone want to try photoshopping this?