The powerhouse was notably older than the rest of the complex. I’m still not sure if it was build just for the cooperage, or whether it preceded it.
Peering through the glass in the Hoist Operator’s cab, stained with graffiti. The cable and reels can be seen through the glass… these are now gone.
In the ward for the criminally insane, this door was the most-worn. Nail scratches mark the area around the peep hole, the wood is gouged everywhere from thrown chairs and hard kicks, and a ominous blood-colored stain is visible where it dripped in the second inset from the bottom. Aside from the damage, the coloring in this section was very vibrant, though it was probably little reprieve for those who had to work here.
Two counterweighted elevators moved men between the surface, mine, and underground mill.
Looking down the kiln line from atop the furnaces.
Made by the Mergenthalen Linotype Company of New York, this model series (300) was introduced in 1960 and boasted a 12-line-per-minute reproduction rate.
This part of the workhouse was sheathed in fiberglass, but now you can see its insides from a mile away.
The stairs of this elevator had their landings removed long ago to keep vandals grounded.
An emergency slide to help workers evacuate the blending house in an emergency.