A long exposure of the city glow illuminating the roof, highlighting the victorian and gothic influences on the brew house.
The Osborn Block (front) and the Twohy (rear) at sunset. In the distance, you can almost make out Globe Elevators. One of my favorite photos of 2013.
Looking down the Gilman-Belden tram.
There isn’t an unbroken window in the entire historic complex as of 2013.
The aerial tram at the Mayflower Mill gives a sense of what the Gold Prince Mill in Animas Forks once looked like. Trams connected the mill to the mines around it without the need to negotiate trees, rivers, and rough terrain.
The gold mine is now a gravel pit.
A tram that once linked the Sunnyside Mine to the mill in Eureka has been reduced to a single cable. Nearby, an open adit drips water into a tributary of the Animas River.
The bottom of the tailings boom is rotten. In days when the dredge, floated, gangways connected it to shore, it seemed. You can see the size of the pontoons under the boat here.
The steel sea leg is so heavy it requires a huge counterweight that travels the height of the elevator.
Levers and indicators to control and track the path of mine cars moving up and down the mine shaft. Note the mine depth indicators would trace paper… this is because the steel cables stretch out over time, so the line length changes with the years.
The winch that hauled the sea leg, a decide to unload grain from waiting boats and barges.
The first step of the filtering process is being spun through this tube.
In the Lime House, the sunset picked-up the last light of day to make this image. Lime is used in the beet sugar refinement process to reduce the acidity of the beet juice mixture.
Looking up the Dominion Elevator’s tower. I especially like this picture because it shows how so much of the electrical conduits wound round through the mostly hollow space.
Halfway up the coal conveyor, covered in coal dust… black streaks of snot. Starting to get good.
The main shaft’s cable spooled with bird castings belies the fact that lives used to dangle from its steel-wound strength. Arrows on the circles would indicate the mine level the cars were currently at.
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.
Like a railgun pointed at the Rockies… the boom would direct tailings–junk rock–outside of the dredge pond.
An unintentional skylight makes the inside of the office glow, showing the inside of the front door and its strange lock.
I love these heavy rolling doors in the old tobacco processing building.
I like to think of this as the hardware abstraction layer. It’s one of many subassembly monorail conveyors that dipped onto the factory floor to deliver assembled subsections where they needed to be on the main assembly floor below.
In case power was lost, this manual signal could direct trains on and off the taconite trestle. Turning the pole would change the color of the light on top and the shape of the metal flags.
The sun shining through one of the buildings; everything was overgrown.
I wish I knew the story of this popcorn-themed boxcar.
The Osborn Block is the prettiest building you’ve never seen in the Twin Ports.
Lit by the glow of St. Paul’s West Seventh bars, highlighted by the cool blue of the sleepy section of South Side. This castle-like tower can be seen for miles around town; a Landmark at the brewery that brewed a brew by the that name.
These corner pilings served as bumpers… a little assurance against wind, ice, and new captains.
A screen above the floor apparently shields workers from the disintegrating building.
The bottom of the elevator in the new foundry.
Kate in the Atlas E, which is essentially a buried Atlas D. Above is the protective steel blast door.
Looking from the crane-motor catwalk into the Calumet. The arm shown here with the pulleys looped through it would have been lowered and the bucket conveyor in it would throw grain to waiting ships and boats bound for flour mills and foreign lands.
When I revisited the mine in 2013, the hoists were scrapped and sitting by the road.
See http://www.thecarriedeer.com/ for details.
Imagine with yellow window guards are eyebrows and the open windows are the eyes. This headframe seems a bit curious.
When I saw this section, I knew the dock was abandoned.
On the National Mine property are two shafts, both serving the same workings. This one seems to have gotten some upgrades in the 1960s, judging from the condition of the metal.
The dredge is divided into four levels. The top level has controls for the tailings boom and, when it was there, the bucket excavator.
The end of the heating line allowed glass to cool slowly, and thus be stronger.
A panorama of the dock buildings, before the left one was demolished.
One of the machines left over in the underground magnetic separation plant.
One of the older buildings on the site, this is an old power house that provided electricity to the plant. I spent some time walking around it and believe it was fired with coal gas but had a diesel backup installed later.
A shuttered house at the end of the block doesn’t even have boards on it anymore.
Between two brick buildings is a metal one with many windows set into it. Having been in many mills of similar design, I conjecture that this was the milling building, where machines ground the corn before it was boiled.
Kate in the crow’s next… very shaky by the time she got to it.
Looking down the walkway that traces the bottom side of the ore dock.
The tangled telegraph lines between Mitchell and the engine house keep the old pole from topping in the wind.
A 24-hour clock that reeks of the 1970s. A ladder stenciled “LTV”–the failed steel company that built this dock. There is more, if you look closer.
I did not take the escape ladder to the surface, but I am told it pops up in the middle of a hill next to the missile silo doors.
The bridge here moved workers between the dock, the approach tracks, and refueling buildings.
This sign was important when trains ran the length of the elevator.
An experimental shaft dug in the 1950s and its Hoist House.
One of two control towers that reached over the lake. The control panel here was used to move the conveyors over the ship’s hold doors, adjust flow of the taconite, and so on.
This photo illustrates how vertical the complex is.
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.
An auxiliary crane in the corner of the foundry room.
While walking out I snapped this last shot of the sunset drenching the castle-top watertower (staying with the theme), right before the sun dipped below the hill across the stream from which the whiskey was distilled.
The power gauge showed… broken.
The oldest part of this mill had a wooden roof that rotted away long ago. Slowly, rust is dulling the edge on every cog left behind.
The control room floats above the top of the dock atop a spiral staircase.
…a better view of the huge tailings boom stretching outside of the tailings pond.
Ducking the steam lines overhead between the mixers and compressors, a water tower says “good morning,” right past the slack power lines. This is the sleepy uptown of the war city.
The two exhaust vents coming out from the boilers en route to the stacks. Plywood marks where where catwalks were removed to extract equipment.
Postcards and snapshots in a high elevator office.
Some guerilla art for passing drivers on I-94 East to enjoy. Artist unknown.
This building had no identity issues. My chief regret was not spending more time documenting the ghost signs around the complex.
A screened water wheel, presumably for rotating the dredge once it lowered its “foot” to pivot in place.