If you've ever visited a benevolent non-profit, a 100-year-old, or a barbershop that used to cut Joe Alioto's hair, you've probably seen a city proclamation gracing the wall.
Written in prose befitting a time when “Whereas” was an everyday word shouted above the din of horseless carriages, proclamations recall a time when every dignitary dressed and spoke like the Mayor of Munchkin City. Who wouldn't feel important when handed such a weighty-sounding document?
Perhaps the calligraphers' union and parchment workers weren't the strongest, because the city has since gone the route of printing up its procs via computers and on paper. And yet, the signature gold seals are still very much crafted by hand.