The world's fairs. The buried ground floors. The elevators that worked before electricity. Sixteen chapters on the nineteenth century, and every claim checkable at a named source.
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Second edition, expanded. Previously published as The Vanished City.
The buried ground floors. The vanished palaces. The star forts. The maps that named an empire and then stopped naming it. Not one of those questions is stupid, and most point at something real that mainstream education genuinely does under-teach.
This book follows each one to wherever the evidence actually goes — including, in several chapters, somewhere other than where you may have heard it goes. Where that happens, it says so plainly. Vagueness would be a kind of flattery, and you would not be buying this book to be flattered.
What turns up is not a consolation prize. It is better material.
The Eiffel Tower opened in 1889 and carried the public to the top from the first day — not by electricity, but by hydraulics. Under London, a public grid of high-pressure water mains drove the city's lifts, cranes and theatre machinery until 1977. The elevators really did predate electricity. They ran on water.
There was no down — dig a trench and it filled with water. So the city laid its sewers on top of the streets and raised the streets over them. In 1861 a grand hotel went up six feet while it stayed open for business. Owners who declined to pay watched their ground floor become a basement.
Not on a map. The Dzungar Khanate was the last great steppe empire — a state with a dynasty, an army and its own diplomacy. Between 1755 and 1758 it was destroyed as a people. The emperor's own orders survive. Almost no educated adult in the West has heard the name.
Alfred Beach held a permit to run pneumatic tubes for mail. He used it to dig a subway instead — at night, in secret, under a working street, funding it himself so nobody at City Hall could stop him before it opened. It carried paying passengers for two years in a car pushed by a giant fan.
The commonest question about this subject is also the fairest one: where exactly is this, and what is it called?
The last chapter answers it fifty times. Seattle's buried streets. The medieval upper walkways of Chester, still open and still free. Lower Wacker Drive. The building on Broadway where the first passenger elevator was installed in 1857, still standing. Each one named, located and dated, so you can go and stand in front of it.
Seven of them were written for this edition, in answer to what readers and viewers kept asking.
Plus a preface, a reading guide and a full glossary.
What Really Happened to the Buildings We Lost
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