Without a roof, the bricks were being washed away in the later years of the roundhouse.
The side of a launcher, with outbuildings in the background. You can see the tracks where the roof would open before launch.
This is the building where the corn mash would be boiled in stainless steel kettles, now gone.
The iconic outline of a prairie sentinel. Quintessential rural industrial architecture.
Although most of the buildings were open and empty, a few carried signs.
The snowflake (?) patterns were hand-laid throughout the hospital. It is possible some or all of these tiles were laid by patients, as it is on record that they were used for simple tasks in the name of occupational therapy.
Because of the dangers of storing the materials to make explosives as well as the explosives themselves, there were earthen bunkers all across the plant like this.
Standing on the ruins of the former sister dock, looking back at the soon-to-be-demolished family member. The pilings I stood on for the shot were those of the Chicago and North Western RR #3 which was dismantled in 1960 and used to be 2,040-feet long.
The now-demolished Sanatorium, for patients of the asylum that contracted the disease.