The last batch of molded metal stuck in the chute, this metallurgical furnace was falling apart brick by disintegrating brick b the time I got to it. On the upper floors there is a sophisticated network of vents and chimneys to make these little furnaces as hot as possible.
Inside the towering offices, Firestone-colored staircases connect senseless rows of wood-paneled offices.
The individual ovens are skinny to allow even and fast heating of the whole interior. Numbers are cut into signs because no paint could withstand the heat or corrosive emissions from the coking process.
Either the company was pulling parts from this evaporator to use as parts for other plants, or the last thing the workers did was to get this machine ready for the next campaign. Either way, plans changed.
A few from atop the steam gauges along the western wall. The turbines were scrapped quickly after the plant closed, it seemed.
The belts on these mills have long ben missing.
At the end of a conveyor belt and poised over a loading station, it’s easy to image the tinny sound of chicken feed sliding across the metal. Like sand on the old-fashioned stainless steel playground slides.
Observing War City in the midst of an electric storm. This photo is lit almost entirely by lightning.
A wounded flour mill, muscled into the corner to keep out of the way.