This battlement-like tower is the first thing one sees coming to Old Taylor from Frankfort.
Spare firebox bricks palleted on the second floor, is if it was going to be repaired.
Looking down a manlift on the ore dock side of the elevator. It’s a belt-less belt-o-vator!
Different colors stained the small panes on the top floor. For once, it seemed more ridiculous to not be inside an abandoned factory.
An impressive message for graffiti in a Detroit warehouse, but then again look at these steam pumps. Over-built and under-appreciated.
A self portrait.
Above the old machine shop is a packing building and a crate of cardboard label rolls.
One of the many exposed steam tunnels, unearthed by erosion and broken into by farm tractors and bored kids.
The workshop sat below the main working floor and had serious power going to it.
Fly ash, kicked up by downdrafts, rise again up the smokestack that is the signature feature of the plant. It’s a steel top hat.
The house of the NorShor is surprisingly large, even divided in half. It seems unthinkable that this stage has been empty for so long.
Steel mine hoists, near the place they worked, wait for scrap prices to justify their final removal from Osceola, Michigan.
I am sure even the workers had trouble remembering which pillar hid the phone. Note the “ON” written on the electrical socket, too.
A place to turn mine carts into different areas of the shops.
Looking through the washer that is the first stop for the dredgings.
A screened water wheel, presumably for rotating the dredge once it lowered its “foot” to pivot in place.
A circular common room in one of the original parts of the hospital. When the asylum was especially crowded, this would be filled with patient beds, too. It’s very strange that this floor was not tiled like the other common rooms. It makes me wonder if especially dangerous patients were kept in this ward; those who could not be trusted to not extract and sharpen the ceramic tiles. Portra 160.
Hand painted fire extinguisher notices and a long room which I strongly suspect was a pattern cutting room.
Taken from the most forward part of the windlass room to show how the front of the ship opens up from the front wedge. Note the giant anchor chains and foam strapped to the frontmost beam.
Even without the kettles the Hamm’s brewhouse is beautifully lit, ornamented architecturally and begging for photographers to remember it.
It will be a good harvest.
Looking through the an access panel at the hoist room for Shaft No. 3. The cable had long ago been scrapped, along with the motors to drive the pulleys. I still admire the workmanship on the spool’s arching metal shell.
This belt-run axle ran a turbine (now gone) to blow fresh air into the mine.
The side of Stelco and its scrubber-stacks. This is demolished now.
The rear of engine bay 13… according to the heavily faded sign.
Scrappers tried to take this steel pulley out of Fisher, but it proved too heavy.
The missiles were stored without fuel, to help prevent mishaps. This is the fuel pumping building and one of the tanks.
In what has turned into a kind of industrial courtyard between four ovens some people have posted their tags. X was here.
Rocket propellant and coolant were stored underground adjacent to the missile silo. This is the hallway that connects the missile area to the propellant area. Walking in this area was nice because the floor was dry.
Rims where bulbs were, light were motors were, stairs were people were.
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 generator room was state of the art when it was installed, allowing the complex to use motors and electric lighting ahead of its competitors.
Under the monster and its teeth.
The flour mill’s interior is really just a system of steel and rubber tubes that crush flour over and over in the gap. This mill was never run off of water power directly, but it used to generate power using the river.
The mostly-empty distilling room is easy to spot from the outside because of the distinctive round window.
Captured bolts for a pressure cooker on an industrial scale.
A wounded flour mill, muscled into the corner to keep out of the way.
The control room for Manitoba Pool Elevator #3 was the most modern of any I saw in Thunder Bay. Apparently, 25 men were working on the day this elevator shut down.
Part of the back of the distribution boards; the rear of a giant remote transformer switch.
One of a few rolling workbenches to keep the thousands of pulleys, cogs, and belts working properly.
The working end of the blast furnace, where molten metal would flow like lava out of the furnace… a process called ‘tapping’.
Every elevator has sets of these conveyor switches. Grain comes down through the top chute and the bottom chute rotates to move the flow onto various belts around the plant by gravity. The cross belt is another switch and the bridge belt brings the flow to the other half of the elevator.
Shells of mixing buildings.
The Sun Rooms, or Common Rooms, reminded me of the Panopitcon turned inside-out.
If there were no other options, operators could climb this ladder from the Communications Room to the surface, after opening two heavy steel hatches, of course.
One of the prettier Humphry Manlifts in Minneapolis, in my opinion.
These machines are at least 100 years old.
Much of the signage in the mill was hand-drawn.
These steam powered pumps were integral to the cooling of the meat packing plant next door.
This seems to be the space where upholstery patterns would be drafted. On the table were half-finished notes on a new design.
I found a face.
…a little close for comfort.
The wings of the church had a lot more water damage than the rest. The organ on the balcony was in decent condition when I arrived.
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.
This picture shows the challenges of moving around underground in the base.
1904 Sewer Lid in Central Hillside.
One of my favorite pictures of the tunnel. I am holding a bike rim and wearing a headlamp. My friend triggered the flash just behind my lower back. The fog is a temperature inversion at the entrance of the tunnel; it was 102 degrees outside of the tunnel and about 50 degrees inside, and humid.
Perhaps this office was for a film studio or music producer.
A calendar and comic strip decorate the current pattern shelf in the building which was a coffin factory.
This mean-looking thing had a purpose, probably, but that function has been lost to decades of expansion.
One thing that struck me as a midwesterner in the South was the vines. They seem to be able to completely cover a building when left alone for a few decades.
The belts on these mills have long ben missing.
The first step of the filtering process is being spun through this tube.
A set of air intakes and exhaust pipes over the buried communications and control equipment rooms.