Such a History
Back in the 1960s, when Montrose in Houston was still “The Montrose,” there arose from the heart of it, a ten-story office building.
Atop those ten floors sat a sky-bar. The lounge offered breathtaking views, I’ve been told, of the iconic Houston skyline.
From what I’ve also heard, it was a special place to relax and listen to great jazz or salsa.
And then, one day, the music stopped.
Such a Demise
Lambasted as a relic in recent years, 3400 Montrose had certainly lost its luster. 
Although I had never stepped foot inside, I became curious about its demise. It seemed no one retained a loyalty to it, only to the rooftop lounge.
From across the street, I would peer upward to the only lights still on, those at the sky-bar.
And then one evening, even those went dark.
Rumors swirled as to what would happen to the building. Was there too much asbestos to salvage it? Would it be turned into another office tower with retail below? Would it be torn down?
As it turns out, it was a short skip from the announcement that 3400 Montrose would be demolished, to the clockwork-like demolition that did just that.
If I had been curious about 3400 Montrose’s demise, I became fascinated with its de-construction. 
Impressive in their precision, the team that took down 3400 Montrose became, for a few weeks, part of the life and fabric of Montrose.
“Did you see how far they’ve come?” neighbors would ask one another, referring to the dismantling of what by then had become known as “that eyesore.”
And then, it was gone. All traces pulverized or carted away.
Such a Future
With completion anticipated for next year, the developer, Hanover Company, is erecting a 30-story apartment tower that will dwarf most every structure around it.
Gleaming glass and shiny chrome will command an obedient rise of the eyes upward from passers-by.
Who knows: passers-by may even imagine they hear the faint strum of a guitar or the distant beat of a bass, as the last lingering notes of the jazz club that once stood ten floors above, linger on.