This brewery fought off the local competition only to be brought down by Prohibition. After the booze started flowing again, instead of hitting the bottle it hit the sack–the flour sack. It spent the rest of its life as a flour mill, and most of it survives today.
This is War City, a 10,000-acre bomb that leveled a swath of Indiana to sow the seed of a World War Two powder plant. Now it sits as, arguably, the largest abandonment in North America, with thousands of structures and miles of abandoned roads and sidewalks connecting them all. This place was so huge that I had to spend two days there, squatting overnight, just to see a fraction of its ruins.
When the gasmen left Indianapolis with defunct natural gas lines, the people went heavy industrial. They built a coke plant, one that outlasted the rest, and one with an interesting life.
In 1940, 250 families in rural Indiana were told by the U.S. War Department to move out–something was coming. KOP was one of the largest ammunition factories through World War II, and a few buildings still stand today.
In 1957, the managers of this circa-1905 silk mill chained the doors closed. Virtually nothing inside has been touched for more than half a century.. Introducing Klotz: the last silk mill of its kind, anywhere.
You almost have to pass Anheuser Busch’s giant flagship brewery on the way to Lemp, something that makes everyone that sees the latter to the former. Read on and see for yourself what it looks like when a major brewery in a brewing town goes under…
Exploring a strange, large, unidentified industrial abandonment in the middle of Louisville, Kentucky–then I find out what it was years later.
“Glass City” was Jeanette’s nickname. Jeanette was the factory owner’s wife’s name. McKee Glass Company dates back to 1888 and in many ways typifies the postindustrial drift of the Midwest, and frankly I think it’s beautiful.
I couldn’t have guessed, standing in stall one of two, that Singer Sewing Machines had built this semi-rural roundhouse on the edge of South Bend.
Castles too rarely rise from american dirt, but somewhere in the Kentucky backcountry there’s a worn-down, boarded-up whiskey distillery that looks as if its stolen straight from Scotland. See how its history intersects with what goes into your Jim Beam and Wild Turkey today…
Known more for its afterlife of arson and anarchy, it insists to exist. It built cars between 1903 and 1958, only taking breaks to help America win its wars. Since then it has become an icon of America’s manufacturing decline.