Part of the plant has been reused as a scrap metal yard.
Where workers’ pay would be doled out and collected.
The rumors were true. Success is sweet.
The mine was built with stone, wood, and steel. It’s in good condition.
This rockhouse was added below the shaft to load Gilpin Tram cars.
One of my favorite shots from that year, conveyor line parts stacked and hung with Postal Service bins from decades ago.
Looking at the concrete headframe from street level. Acros 100 in Pentax 67
The old truck scale sits in the middle of what was Nettleton Avenue Slip.
Molten copper pouring being a very dangerous thing to do by hand, this scale measured the load for the “Auto Caster” that actually formed the cooling copper in its molds.
A 5-minute exposure of the tunnel and stars, and even some of Duluth’s city lights bouncing off the clouds. A single off-camera flash in the tunnel gives the effect of an oncoming train.
These Twin Cities kisses
Sound like clicks and hisses.
We all tumbled down and
Drowned in the Mississippi River. -The Hold Steady
The first floor of the Industrial Loft building.
This “pit” would allow workers to crawl below locomotives to service them.
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.
The last of four radar domes on the base.
Looking through a launcher doorway at an outbuilding… the fire truck garage, if I recall correctly. Fomapan medium format in Pentax 67.
A simple porcelain fountain in the original brewhouse. The water fountain, no doubt, is not original.
The chapel (left) and surgical suite (straight on) move in an out of view as fog rolls up from the St. Louis River valley.
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.
The end of the new elevator. Line of bird droppings follow the fire sprinkler pipes and wires in the room.
Because Oshkosh is close to Green Bay, the Packers are very popular there. Everywhere in the plant there were traces of ‘Cheese Head’ culture.
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.
This room on the top floor of one of the oldest buildings has seemingly not changed since it was adapted for employee use. Some sections of the hospital were adapted for staff to live in. Paying Patient Ward–where capable patients were separated from wards of the state.
Looking through the hole where a glass pane once was at the Columbus Mine ruins, just south of Animas Forks. It was quiet when I took the picture, but for the gurgle of the nearby Animas River.
What you see is not a crack in the floor, but a long vine extending ten feet onto the shop floor, as if reaching in to escape the wind and rain.
I like to think of this as a giant straw, through which the factory is slowly draining the earth, leaving nothing but reinforced concrete below…
The former express concourse, as seen in 2005.
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.
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.
Frankie and Quarantine pictured.
The pipes above sprayed water onto the hot coke.
Between the repair shops and the stock department is this odd little structure. No, the walls are not level–it’s not your eyes. The shops slope left, the structure slopes right.
Train-mounted snowplows pushed the snow through the fence and against the old offices.
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.
“Paint the fence,” they said, but I don’t feel like it… who cares, anyway.
Hunter climbing up to the coal tower.
The main rail artery for Thunder Bay passes Ogilvie’s.
The side of the maintenance shops, still home to several disassembled electric carts.
Sprays of water kept the muddy mixture flowing across the sluices, which filtered out gold particles from gravel and dirty.
…when injection molding was the new thing that everyone was experimenting with.
I wonder when fluorescent lighting was added.
The back side of the hotel is plain, but for a fire escape.
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.
The former BESCO building in the last light of day.
All of the bucket conveyors crashed on this work floor when their casings were scrapped. Note all of the valves to open the grain flow.
Looking at the rear of the mill, through dead vines and barbed wire.
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.
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.
A self portrait, from the early 2000s.
“Ballistite is a smokeless propellant made from two high explosives, nitrocellulose and nitroglycerine. It was developed and patented by Alfred Nobel in the late 19th century.” -Wikipedia.
The stone chapel sits beside the main house and received a particularly heavy dose of gothic architectural touches.
A late look at the brewhouse, long after the stainless steel tanks were scrapped.
Between the catwalks of Furnace 6, the molted ore would flow through the chute.
My guess is that the Capitol Hotel closed and Adler bought up some of their equipment.
Part of the grain dust venting system, dislodged from its place above the dumping hatches under the grain cribs.
Cracked gauges have a certain quality that hearkens to movies, I think. One can imagine the gauges going off the scales before dramatically cracking, throwing glass right at the camera. This damage, however, is unfortunate vandalism.
A steel powder keg serves as a door prop on the static-proof wood core floor. Note the ‘XXX’ marking to the left of the double door.
Even in monochrome, you can probably tell what colors were over Hastings that evening: Red, White, and Blue.
This view of BCT shows the portico where the main entrance is at the base of the office tower, and the clock.
If there was a problem with the conveyor belt, the grain would go out these chutes.
Only two machines sit on the rails in the roundhouse, both oil cars. It’s not clear whether there’s anything inside either, but they have to have been placed here before 1970, when the turntable outside these numbered doors was removed.
Smashed TVs and stone foundations in a former common room in the basement.
A gateway for St. Louis as seen through a gateway (of sorts) in East St. Louis.
I’ve been in a lot of different mines. Some on tours, some not. If you pass through Howardsville, Colorado without going on the Old Hundred Mine Tour, you’re missing out. This is what Santiago Tunnel looked like in the 1940s when it was near the end of its life.
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.
A look straight down into the chutes were taconite pellets would dump into the dock hoppers. Rebar was a safety measure to keep workers from being buried alive, were they to slip into the holes.
From the catwalks below the hoisting motor in Shaft No. 1.
My first picture at Nopeming, sometime around 2004. The same year that the county stopped mowing the lawn.
An alarm panel in the powerpplant, now demolished.
An elevator is reflected in the flooded footprint of Spencer & Kellogg. These trains are in storage for the winter.
Cauterized wounds on the factory floor, where the middle of the newer mill opens up to allow massive equipment. Now the pipes are cut and the equipment is gone.
One of the hundreds of wells across the depot, as seen through an open rail door. In the distance, the radome.
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.
The huge snowfalls of 2011 brought new collapses across the buildings.
Redlining is the practice of shutting certain races out of neighborhoods, and it is still a big problem today. Such behaviors were a big factor in creating the need for these projects.
Unintentional art comes in the form of a beet juice slurry baffle.
The sidewalks are littered with rocks.
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.
This section of the production floor was constantly dripping. Someone had laid down giant plastic sheeting to attempt to protect the lower floors, but it hasn’t worked.
Trees between duplexes overshadow the buildings they were planted to shield; revenge for the boards on the windows.
These wide spools sit atop the abandoned tracks that lead to the train shed, which was later repurposed into a truck shed.
Hip bump girl.
Standing where the Final Assembly Building used to hum and staring across the former site of the Sheet Metal and Spring buildings. Today, of course, the Foundry is gone as well, so you’d be looking across Prairie Ave.
The roof of the King Elevator had two small vents and a terrific view of Sleeping Giant Provincial Park. Arista 100 in 120.
A burned and rusted control panel in the corner of the new hoist room.
Someone had helped themselves to one of the safety posters before my visit.
This is a room where the actual explosive elements were mixed. In the event of an accident, this glass wall would give way before the concrete and thus direct the flames and shockwave away from the rest of the building. In other words, the glass is not just to get a lot of wonderful natural light into the building.
I’ve written it before, but I like observing the way buildings change in terms of new windows, bricked up doors, and so on, and thinking of how their forms change to reflect the work inside of them.
Frankie on the White Pine Mine vehicle access shaft. The mine was traditional inside… all room-and-pillar.
Looking out of the wavy stock shop.
One leg of the headframe meets the hoist house. Two cranes are rusted in place.
The most derelict of the old bonded warehouses. Note the barrel elevator on the side of it!
An article from Minnpost describes this design as “marital”, and I could not agree more.
A bank of vertical filing cabinets, probably dating to National Guard days.
Vines are finding their way into the roundhouse.
Labeling line elevator.
Looking at the ghost sign from a rust-locked cement conveyor that linked the silos with a packing warehouse.
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.
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.
Below the historic National Guard Armory.
From inside a painting shed, where heatlamps and a vented roof made sure that the Caddy looked like it was worth the price tag.
The main buildings were mostly interconnected and in good condition. The dry air helps to preserve the wooden structures.
It was obvious which parts of the hospital were the newest, by their relative utter self destruction. It’s comforting to the Cubical Dwellers, I think, to know that as soon as the power and plumbing are disconnected that all hell will break loose and dismantle their suspended ceilings, drywall boxes and fluorescent suns in no time at all.
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.
So much relies on one thing stacked on top of another thing.
Like many mill-style buildings of the time, the Twohy’s loading doors (in this case, the delivery wagon doors) opened to an elevator shaft. This design cut down on loading time, as long as the elevator was operational. Of course, if it was otherwise occupied, there could be no traffic through the exterior doors!
Old conveyor belts are draped over the sides of the ore chutes to cut down on the noise and wear of the dumping trains.
2005. This is very likely the oldest image I have on the website; I took this in the early 2000s with my first camera when I was new to the hobby. I still like it quite a lot.
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.
One of the few artifacts left in the chapel section is this old floor buffing machine.
Ringling’s church was built in 1914 and sits on a hill over the town.
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!
Grain is taken from the bottom of the silos through a conveyor in a tunnel. These blowers keep the air in the tunnel fresh.
Camera: Voigtlander Bessa
Film: Acros 100
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.
The roof could be vented when locomotives were running inside.
A teeter totter sits in front of the Memorial Building.
I had to climb into the roof of the half-demolished skyway to see through to the other side of the train shed. That’s my foot in the corner.
The middle missile launcher, as seen from the roof of its neighbor.
Inside this small iron clad mine is a couch and some clothes. It seems that for a short while, someone was living inside of it…
Giant ingredient hoppers stand on a concrete floor covered in peeled paint.
A fireproof room in the basement, perhaps for ammunition storage at one time.
The city has taken steps to prevent the curious and the desperate from going into the elevators, including piling rocks against the doors and windows.
When it was convenient, the sugar company would pull equipment, even pipes, from one mill for another.
Panorama from where the skyway connected the cleaning house and elevator. ADM Meal Storage is to the right, ADM-4 is to the extreme right, and Kurth is on the left.
These dump cars moved copper ore to the top of the furnaces… it’s about two stories above ground level.
A broken scale in Isabella A, next to an old wood stove.
A scrapped steam turbine, perhaps. In the background you can see a gutted casing for another turbine.
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.
It was a strange choice, although I appreciate it, for the firm reusing the shops to brick up the doorways while leaving the doors.
Chutes connect the bottoms of the silos to a conveyor belt.
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.
Looking out of the American diesel crane at the gantry crane that ran the length of the dock.
There are 700 of these storage bunkers. Their design was to funnel explosions upward, rather than toward other buildings, to minimize secondary explosions.
The powerhouse had two elevated tracks behind it, one for coal and one for deliveries.
A better view of the belt system that drives all the machinery in the plant.
Ringling, MT is spread thin across the grassy land.
An arrangement of brick graffiti on the old boiler house building near the railroad tracks.
The power pulley that ran air compressors straight off of the steam plant’s axel.
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.
A typical shower in the old section of the hospital. It looks a little horrifying in the harsh light of a camera flash on the thousands of little white tiles. One soap holder hadn’t been stolen yet.
The Sun Rooms, or Common Rooms, reminded me of the Panopitcon turned inside-out.
Between the room with mold sand and the space where the car’s metal bits would be put together, a pillar is marked as structurally vital.
Little crosses on the side of the church, near a broken window.
In the nitrating house.
Construction in 2014 reveals a lost stone sign.
Rogers Mine is one of the most structurally sound mines in the Iron River area that isn’t part of a museum.
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.
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 incinerator’s hardened steel door… useless, but still sexy in a heavy-industrial kind of way.
The top floor of the Dominion Elevator. Acros 100 on 120.
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.
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.
Near the guard post protecting the launch pad at the Duluth BOMARC is an orange windsock.
Looking from the shaft room into the room where an electric hoist would be.
Halfway up the coal conveyor, covered in coal dust… black streaks of snot. Starting to get good.
“Daisy”… probably for the mill, as it was unusual for women to work at Daisy.
The piano must have been a nice distraction; there is very little to do in Roberts.
Scrappers tried to take this steel pulley out of Fisher, but it proved too heavy.
In the steam plant, steam pipes bundled in canvas and asbestos criss-cross the walls.
One boat comes into port while three wait. The birds, fat from spilled grain, circle overhead. Arista 100.
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.
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.
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.
Most of the gauges on the control panels were broken.
Harsh rail yard lighting throws shadows of broken windows against the line of boilers.
Tarpaper telling time-
Wood wittling weather-
Rust rot ruins.
The building on the right was where parts not assembled onto vehicles would be set in crates for shipment.
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.
For some time, tugboats were stored next to the elevator.
Vents in the boards over the windows helps prevent mold and animals from getting too crazy inside.
Chester Creek Infall, near Duluth’s old Armory. The creek will not emerge again until it is near the Lakewalk.
Trees by the beautiful Nurse’s Cottage above and behind the Kirkbride. One side looks out over farmland while the other faces the back of the hospital grounds. As of 2014, the city is allowing artists to rent spaces inside.
A big sliding fire door opens onto a train dock.
The skyway in the bottom of the picture is now gone.
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.
The headquarters for the plant was in the middle of it. It’s abandoned but well preserved–a strange sight in Gary, Indiana.
My first night on Minneapolis’ Lighthouse–now an old picture and distant memory… I still remember the exhilaration and the view of the city off one edge of the roof and the Mississippi River over the other.
“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’…
The roof has been replaced since this was taken. Hopefully, that will stem the water damage.
Just a couple guys enjoying an industrial ruin.
The smokestack for the sintering plant included a big blower room, to launch the fumes into the atmosphere and away from the town. What could go wrong?
An orphan culvert and camper, both tossed aside where nobody that will see will care.
Instructional film strips on the floor of a second floor closer.
The entry point for the painting shed on the top floor. Cars would have a few feet in between them before they entered. Separate sheds would prime and add color.
Kat’s pretty cool.
Daisy Mill could accept shipments from water, rail, and truck at one time. Now everything comes and goes by rail.
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.
This photo illustrates how vertical the complex is.
Many outdoor areas of the plant have become unofficial city dumps. The skeleton doesn’t care.
Almost all of the doors and windows on the ground floor have been boarded, leaving the ground level very dark.
I wonder if these handcarts will become decoration for the hotel being building next to the silos.
When block glass shatters, it looks like ice.