Lost words over the auditorium entrance.
This rockhouse was added below the shaft to load Gilpin Tram cars.
There are 700 of these storage bunkers. Their design was to funnel explosions upward, rather than toward other buildings, to minimize secondary explosions.
A closeup of the now-scrapped steel chute.
Looking toward Sleeping Giant from the workhouse.
Watching the comings and goings of doctors, nurses and new patients was a mainstay of asylum routine; one can find it easy to imagine pale faces pressed against the block glass windows, staring out at the world moving past them.
The basement held a makeshift chapel.
When block glass shatters, it looks like ice.
Part of the decommissioned plant was used by the Air Force for virtual bombing runs. This is the guard shack for the radar station.
The gulls wait to eat the next load of spilled grain. Arista 100.
A high-voltage tunnel sheathed in concrete dips below ground near a shell packing building that now stores fireworks.
Little has changed inside the mill, but since it was built in 1916, many tanks and ancillary buildings have popped up around it.
If there was a problem with the conveyor belt, the grain would go out these chutes.
One leg of the headframe meets the hoist house. Two cranes are rusted in place.
The old men’s ward is an example of what the hospital resembled before part of the complex was modernized. Small rooms, light switches outside the door, small observation windows set into heavy wood. If you ask me, though, the tile work across the floors is the most spectacular.
The machine shop today.
Looking toward a void–formerly a hallway to the mineshaft–now a hole in the ground.
A typical room in the barracks, reinforced from mortars and light shelling, possibly.
The playground used to be near the school which is now in ruins.
The middle missile launcher, as seen from the roof of its neighbor.
The sexiest feature of Kurth is this steel arch over the silos on its south side. The manholes in the floor open to the silos directly, and flimsy grates might catch a hurried worker. Grates were removable so that workers could descend into the concrete tubes, so a few are missing today.
Workers would undoubtedly prefer to use the belt manlift on the right.
The newer tunnels were fitted with these fluorescent lights, although some skylights (block glass embedded in skywalks) let in some natural light during the day.
Rogers Mine is one of the most structurally sound mines in the Iron River area that isn’t part of a museum.
The back side of the hotel is plain, but for a fire escape.
Without their walls these Solvent Recovery Line buildings look like blast walls. Their concrete inner structures were part of the design so if there was an explosion inside it would ‘blow out’ with a puff instead of a bang. Now most of these are demolished or overgrown.
In a now-demolished building, a skylight begins to separate.
The people that stayed here carved bowls from the mesa itself to collect water.
Labeling line elevator.
A jankey ladder leads to a platform over a wooden tank. Here’s hoping my usage contributes to jankey being accepted into the dictionary! Thanks, lexicographers.
Two of the remaining four towers in the projects. Throughout our time there we saw and heard squatters inside and chose not to go in. What do you call a smart choice made in the midst of a dumb choice? There should be a word for that.
An open mine cars waits to be lowered back into Eagle Mine in front of the rust-locked modern mine shaft in the middle of Gilman.
“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.”
― Emily Dickinson
The hike to the village is steep. This is looking into the valley from the halfway point.
A storm passes over BOMARC’s center row of launch buildings. You can clearly see the tracks on which the roof would retract for launch.
A porcelain basin in the locker room is detached, but shows excellent patina. I hope when the machine shop is repurposed that this can be saved.
Kurth bears a ghost sign. Recently, its main sign was destroyed by graffiti artists in 2015.
The small door leads to the offices, the large door leads to the shop. My back at this time is to the corrugated steel wall. At the time I wondered why there was just one steel wall, not knowing that 40 years before there was another spot for an engine here. This section of the roundhouse has become a sort of town dump–car seats, cans of paint and tires are piled into its corners.
Rivets are sexy, and this old machine has more than a fair share.
Instructional film strips on the floor of a second floor closer.
This corner of the building was the coal room, used to feed the two big boilers inside. The steam equipment has been replaced with electric, so this section may not have changed much in the past decades.
The huge snowfalls of 2011 brought new collapses across the buildings.
A machine to cast copper billets.
It was a strange choice, although I appreciate it, for the firm reusing the shops to brick up the doorways while leaving the doors.
From the street, it’s clear that almost every window and door had boards over it, but not every building had a roof. Silly priorities.
There’s no way an explorer, much less a choir, could stand here now. Since this picture was taken the roof has collapsed onto the loft.
Part of the grain dust venting system, dislodged from its place above the dumping hatches under the grain cribs.
A fireproof room in the basement, perhaps for ammunition storage at one time.
On the second floor of the kettle building where corn mash was boiled, holes where tanks once sat were everywhere.
The roof has been replaced since this was taken. Hopefully, that will stem the water damage.
Catwalk crating, welded over the yard crane operator cab’s windows.
Looking from one workhouse at another, with the other residents of Mill Hell falling into place as the distance grows. Across the rail yard you can see Froedert Malt elevator and Calumet.
The front of the power plant (right), the distillery itself (center), and the regaling house (left).
A bird near the old schoolyard.
In the steam plant, steam pipes bundled in canvas and asbestos criss-cross the walls.
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.
Imagine the voice of an entitled White suburban mother. She’s now talking about oral hygiene in the “urban” (Black) schools.
An old nurse’s station (you can tell because of the half-door with table) with torn-up tiles. Notice through the curved doorway that even the ceiling has a curvature.
Checking out the neighbors. Shot on a the legendary Pentax 67.
Taken from atop a grain train at the end of Cargill B-2, looking toward Lake Superior “I”, now part of the sample complex. This area used to have another slip, but Cargill filled it on when it built the elevator on the right.
King Elevator sits in the corner of a more recently-defunct lumber mill: Great Western Timber. Perhaps in the future I will write the history of it. Arista 100 in 120.
Glowing observation windows–and someone forgot to lock a patient’s door…
When a big motor rusted free of its ceiling mount, it smashed onto this workbench.
Fall in line, act skinny, watch out for low hanging pipes. Don’t ask me where in the maze this was… 90% of the plant looked like this; vast rooms and catwalks with crisscrossing pipes and valves.
I like to imagine this as fountain.
Kodak Tri-X 400/Leica M7. The office (first floor), laboratory (second floor) and mill behind it. Everything was clean and pristine.
A teeter totter sits in front of the Memorial Building.
We people are so small.
Standing atop the dust collector, the factory breaks down into diverging patterns, processes.
Point me to the blast furnace.
Looking at the headframe for Shaft 3 from the tower for Shaft 1. Below is the roof of the Dry House. It was hard to remind myself that these building have been abandoned longer than I’ve been alive.
An arrangement of brick graffiti on the old boiler house building near the railroad tracks.
Two steel hoppers supported by counterweights and springs, which were used to weigh incoming grain loads before being deposited in the silos beneath this floor. Garner is another way to say “big measuring tank”, if you were wondering. I fell in love with all the tubes and chutes on this floor.
Near the base of the mesa is a modern house, which seems to be a ranch of some sort. What a fantastic spot to live, but for the fact every rainstorm floods the arryos, muddy ditches at the bottom of gullies, making it impossible to travel.
Looking up at the LEMP malting plant elevator. Look at that BRICKWORK!
Copper poured from this furnace and was cast by the autocaster on the right into billets.
A massive water tower easily tucks into the shadow of Blast Furnace #6.
A typical hallway in the rocket assembly line.
The gothic landing between balcony and classroom level and the ground floor.
These Twin Cities kisses
Sound like clicks and hisses.
We all tumbled down and
Drowned in the Mississippi River. -The Hold Steady
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.
There were three main stockhouses, two of which still exist, that are filled with tanks like these in addition to Fermentation. Each tank is the size of the city bus and few are left after the 2008-2009 scrapings.
The basement of the asylum was a strange place. Take, this fireplace, for instance, in an otherwise barren room. Random cinderblock (left) has created a little room behind the fireplace. To round out the strangeness, a toilet was plumbed into the middle of the space. Note the stone foundations.
The railing were jealous of both the bricks and bits, and chose instead to dissolve like this.
Looking toward the famous Duluth Aerial Lift Bridge from Lake Superior. Shot on a the legendary Pentax 67.
The BOMARC launch buildings are spaced on a large concrete pad that looks like a parking lot. Out of view are underground pipes for fueling and cooling the rocket motors.
The Atlas D command building. As Brutalist as it gets.
The top floor of the Meal Storage Elevator.
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.
Looking out of the demolished skyway. Note the big hole in the floor. The lens is too wide to keep my foot out of it… I’m hanging in the superstructure that I climbed to make this photo.
A few of the stalls in the older section of the roundhouse, the noon sky peeking in.
One boat comes into port while three wait. The birds, fat from spilled grain, circle overhead. Arista 100.
The shed in the front was full of worker supplies–namely goggles and heavy leather gloves. Molten copper isn’t a friendly thing to handle.
A little cloud passes over the Five-Stack powerplant ruins, like a puff of smoke.
A custom ladder to cross conveyor belts on the work floor.
Because Oshkosh is close to Green Bay, the Packers are very popular there. Everywhere in the plant there were traces of ‘Cheese Head’ culture.
The Blacksmith Shop (right) was connected to the Bunk House (left) via this narrow walkway. This is likely due to the fire risk in each building. The left building had a cooking stove and furnace for heat and the right building had a small industrial furnace to repair mining equipment. A little walkway would mean that a fire on one side would be easier to fight from the other.
Windows provided the 250-some workers with fresh air and light, and helped to keep flour dust from building up in the air, helping to prevent explosions. Today, machines control air flow better without windows, so they were bricked.
I believe these hooks were meant for hanging filters to dry.
The most derelict of the old bonded warehouses. Note the barrel elevator on the side of it!
Some local kids were having a fire extinguisher fight when I walked into the lab one day.
This is the former air compressor house–one of them, at least–which turned steam power into air power to drive machinery across the production line.
A little catwalk gives access to the most important gauges in the building. Behind them are huge vents and fans. I bet it got steamy in here.
What I make out to be the dining room or great hall of the castle, as seen through of the side rooms, which appeared to be a very ruined library. Teenager graffiti looks cooler in French.
These dump cars moved copper ore to the top of the furnaces… it’s about two stories above ground level.
I don’t think we’re anywhere near maximum pressure anymore.
The third floor corridor is not so welcoming, as it requires visitors to walk along the support breams without the luxury of a floor. I didn’t mind, but I can’t see the family with young children that was also exploring Noisy doing the same.
The pockmarked concrete sign of Substation #2 over the control room that faces the highway.
This is one of the modern nurse’s stations where the last inpatients lived in the mid-2000s. The windows are thick shatterproof plastic. I am unsure why the suspended ceiling is missing.
Frankie on the White Pine Mine vehicle access shaft. The mine was traditional inside… all room-and-pillar.
A burned and rusted control panel in the corner of the new hoist room.
Aluminum spools replaced their wooden counterparts, later in the factory’s history.
A hydraulic ‘bridge’ couple lower onto the tracks to bring mine cars into the shaft house, presumably for repair. I haven’t found this system anywhere else, but it makes a lot of sense.
This seemed to be the newest building on the property.
I am sure even the workers had trouble remembering which pillar hid the phone. Note the “ON” written on the electrical socket, too.
A windmill marks one corner of GOW.
In the nitrating house.
A facade that tells the story of demolition and neglect. The sign on the garage door indicates that if one finds themselves there, that they enter the buildings at their own risk. If only property owners in the US took this philosophy!
Counter-weighted ore cars alternately filled and emptied to feed Furnace 7. Honestly, though, the corner-mounted cranes are sexier in my opinion. Note the trees growing from the stacks.
The mine was built with stone, wood, and steel. It’s in good condition.
The end of Dock 5 is warped and bent from a rail accident that left some ore cars swinging like a stringy wrecking ball into the end of the superstructure and accompanying stair. The stairs are still navigable, but it wasn’t recommended by the CN workers that were with me.
The steam-powered hoist that pulled ore and dropped men from the mine. Note the hydraulic-operated brake on top with its massive brake pad. Now scrapped.
A back-lit tree with the silhouette of a roof spire in the background.
A wide view of the poor house. Look at the smokestack and elevator shaft, which show the former roofline.
Many outdoor areas of the plant have become unofficial city dumps. The skeleton doesn’t care.
The first floor of the Industrial Loft building.
Ava between ammo warehouses and railroads.
When the Mitchell project is complete, I’ll miss the textures on the face of the boiler.
Ringling’s church was built in 1914 and sits on a hill over the town.
Note the large belt pulley in the center of the frame. Follow the axel it’s on and you’ll see several belts still attached to the drive, which was originally steam-driven.
Trees between duplexes overshadow the buildings they were planted to shield; revenge for the boards on the windows.
This “pit” would allow workers to crawl below locomotives to service them.
One of my favorite photos of the ADM-Delmar #1 skyway, when it stood. Taken at sunset, with the reflection of the overcast sky in the remaining windows.
The King Elevator is connected by a manlift and this spiral staircase. The manlift was down–can you believe it? Note the cool turns in the vertical railings. Arista 100 on 120.
Designed by Taylor himself, the spring house was the site of many parties in its day. You can imagine sipping fresh-tapped whiskey here with your Sunday clothes with soft music and the sounds of the river mixing in the background. Note the key-hole-shaped spring hole.
A wide view (15mm) of the shadow 4B is casting on 4A. Light leaks because of cheap camera.
Old parts catalogs litter the floor. The office overlooks empty shelves. Graffiti glue peeling paint in place.
One of the only extant assembly line tracks in the body painting department. No photographer leaves Fisher 21 without capturing some version of this spot; hope you like mine.
Pozo Mine, the most menacing mine building I’ve ever seen. Black and white film, shot with the Fuji GX680, a beast of a camera.
The steel awning and its elegant staircase are one of my favorite features near the old carpentry shop. The gymnasium-theater is in the background.
Looking at the boarded exterior of the newer area of the orphanage from its 1914 section.
The moon highlights the contrails over the engine house in the middle of the night. Foreground light painted.
A late look at the brewhouse, long after the stainless steel tanks were scrapped.
In the distance, the San Haven Sanatorium water tower.
This is a great example of a combination rock house; the silos below used to fill trains with ore dropped from mine cars pulled to the top of the structure.
In most places, it may seem off for there to be a tunnel door on the top floor of a building, but Ford was that kind of place. This door from the steam plant led into a skyway and tunnel that connected to the main assembly floor.
Looking at the casting floor from the roof. In the distance are the copulas where molten metal was poured.
The Tilston School,built in the late 1960s. In front of it is a memorial and model to the first schoolhouse. This building, however, has been turned into a kind of town dump. The classrooms are filled with mattresses and discarded tires and trash.
I love that the administration building–almost 100 years old now–still carries the original name.
A side view showing the extreme structural damage to what I believe is the Masonic Cottage. I honestly cannot unravel how some of this was done, unless the local armory is missing a 4″ canon and some cartridge shot.
One of my favorite signs, informing workers about to descend into the open-top grain bins about basic procedures. This was in ADM-Annex 1 (connected to the cleaning house via skyway), so it will never be seen again, unless the sign lands luckily when the elevator is demolished.
One of the hundreds of wells across the depot, as seen through an open rail door. In the distance, the radome.
The boilers are gone, but round brick portals remain where they used to meet the walls of the boiler room. Behind it appears to be the coal bunker itself.
A corner of the addition is lined with glass cabinets, formerly filled with beds.
We mark our world in unexpected ways… this is how patient possessions would be stored during their stay in the old asylum wards. It’s about the size of a shoebox, and this particular drawer has a name where the others do not. Its place reminded me of the hospital cemetery where more than 3,000 are buried and less than 1% of whom are recorded by stone or plaque in their resting place.
Looking through the washer that is the first stop for the dredgings.
This photo illustrates how vertical the complex is.
The end of the new elevator. Line of bird droppings follow the fire sprinkler pipes and wires in the room.
The headquarters for the plant was in the middle of it. It’s abandoned but well preserved–a strange sight in Gary, Indiana.
Steel mine hoists, near the place they worked, wait for scrap prices to justify their final removal from Osceola, Michigan.
Looking at the rear of the mill, through dead vines and barbed wire.
Looking toward the power station at the edge of the explosives plant.
“Five Roses” was the brand of flour that Lake of the Woods marketed. Later, this became another Manitoba Pool elevator. Notice the “POO” up top? It’s missing the ‘L’…
A heavy steel rail door to help funnel explosions upward, rather than outward.
Archeologists believe the great house on the mesa was rebuilt shortly before it was abandoned in the 13th Century AD. Tri-X 400 Film, haphazardly self developed.
Shadows of the rusty trestle and cold control towers on the Barker. Workers are preparing to swing over the sides of the boat to help secure her to the Minnesota Power dock.
The end of the heating line allowed glass to cool slowly, and thus be stronger.
Shells of mixing buildings.
Sprays of water kept the muddy mixture flowing across the sluices, which filtered out gold particles from gravel and dirty.
A street side exposure of the original 1914 section of the orphanage. Turned into black and white to deemphasize all the graffiti across the front steps.
The former express concourse, as seen in 2005.
Let’s play a game called “FIND THE PIGEON”! There is one bird in this photo of dust collectors atop the King Elevator train shed.
During the Cold War, the Air Force used the radar station to train bombardiers in radar-guided ordinance.
Beautiful belt wheels above the grain cribs. Getting to the spot where this was taken is now impossible, and I don’t know whether these remain or not anymore.
The powerhouse had two elevated tracks behind it, one for coal and one for deliveries.
A small upper level was accessible via ladder through the hole in this ceiling. Ben for scale.
A mix of brick and stone construction where the stock house meets the cellars. The caves brought well water to the brewery and drained the refuse away, and the various sewer connections are visible here and tell the story of the company’s expansion above.
Halfway up the coal conveyor, covered in coal dust… black streaks of snot. Starting to get good.
A long exposure of the launch pad and its dedicated guard shack. In the middle of the base is a tall antenna which was part of the MARS program during the Gulf War. The MARS program helped connect calls between deployed soldiers and their families.
The Western Elevator’s old moniker looks over Fort William (the neighborhood). Snow falls over Mount McKay in the background. This elevator is still active… the only active elevator in Fort William proper.
A sign of where man met machine.
I wonder if these windows were bricked after the 1950 explosion with the hopes that, if another silos blew, the people in this office would be better protected.
Wagons and horses were kept in the building on the left, separate from the rest of the complex in case of fire. In the distance is the boiler house, separate for the same reason.
The Sun Rooms, or Common Rooms, reminded me of the Panopitcon turned inside-out.
A huge steam pipe snakes between catwalks, through the floors, and toward the condensers, so the water could be recovered and reused.
Looking through skylights of the payroll office toward the Cheratte No.1’s tower. This is where workers would wait in line to receive pay, surrounded by the mine workings.
There are a few campers parked in the abandoned buildings around the NAD. I am guessing that they were once a more secure place to store such things OR they have always been wide open, and this was a quick and free way to dump unwanted toys.
Furnace #6; its catwalk and tapway. Note the lever-operated gutter-blockers.
Zachary Taylor’s very own Scottish castle, spring-side in the Kentucky backcountry. Boarded and waiting, but in surprisingly good condition, considering the decades. I especially love the tower on the right side of the frame.
Although it’s difficult to spot at first, there is a traveling mini crane down the way about the three windows. This was installed to service all of the fabrication machines that would be in this section.
The cupola–the space above the silos–is surprisingly original. The building was too unstable for anyone to scrap it out. Seriously, the floor is a deathtrap.
Go on and jump in, if you want, there’s even a ladder to climb out.
Generations of Two Harbors teens smoked their first weed in this abandoned building, in my estimation. Comment if I’m right!