Those able to work would be compelled to help fix up the facility, grow, harvest, and prepare food for fellow ‘inmates’, or work on vocational skills.
A reminder to the manlift riders to get off the belt before they hit their heads on the ceiling. This is the top level of the headhouse, where dust collectors would extract most of the grain bits from the air to reduce risk of explosion.
I wonder when fluorescent lighting was added.
Island Station, in the middle of the power house, in the middle of a thunder storm. Flapping pipe covers and sheets of ran penetrating one massive arched window and blasting through the other, as winds power through the building from the Mississippi. The sound of the thunder made every length of steel squeak under the pressure.
Looking into the half-demolished, half-dismantled conveyor for the sea leg.
Look at the floor–do you see the hole? That goes down a lonnnnnng ways.
“GREETING FROM BEAUTIFUL GARY–WISH YOU WERE HERE!” My postcard shot.
Standing atop the dust collector, the factory breaks down into diverging patterns, processes.
A multi-family home with an attic bedroom. The staircase was unstable, to say the least.