Read This Now: Lost Treasures of St. Louis

You probably know Collins as a blogger, the witty, thoughtful force behind Distilled History, “a drinking blog with a history problem.” When he’s not writing about booze or the fascinating minutiae of Compton & Dry maps, Collins volunteers at the Campbell House, which often provides leads for his stories. Fortunately—despite the insanely complex estate of last survivor Hazlett Campbell—that treasure was not lost to St. Louis.

Of course, you could fill multiple books with descriptions of amazing things that we did tear down or destroy, usually in the name of progress (read: profit). At least initially, Collins has written just one book. Hewing to the hyper-visual, exquisitely researched style that has made Distilled History a household name (at least in St. Louis), Collins walks us through some spectacular long-gones, including Club Imperial, where Ike and Tina Turner played; Miss Hulling’s Cafeteria; Sportsman’s Park; the Crystal Palace, in Gaslight Square; the Goldenrod Showboat; Scruggs Vandervoort Barney; and St. Bridget of Erin Church. He even writes about such beloved but vanished St. Louis brands as Falstaff and Mavrakos.

Despite our long-running penchant for tearing down significant and historic structures, St. Louis is a remarkably nostalgic city, one that is also fiercely loyal to its people and creations, whether you’re talking Jon Hamm or Provel cheese. And we seem to mourn perpetually for things. (Litmus test: Ask someone over 40 about The Parkmoor.) So natives, or devoted adopters of this city, should keep a hanky at the ready for the tears that will fall—or, if you want to stay in the spirit of Collins’ booze ’n’ history combo, maybe just pour yourself a stiff drink. Fear not, though: Even when he’s writing about tragedies, such as the great Southern Hotel Fire, in 1877, Collins writes in a sparkling, literary style that’ll keep you reading, even as your heart catches over what was but is no more.