The back of the Lyric, including the offices at the back of the theater.
Looking at ADM-Delmar #4, #1 and Kurth from the Meal Storage Elevator at sunset on one of the warmer days of December. Note the graffiti “United Crushers” that gave the big elevator its common name among locals. Also, Harris Machinery is sitting in the lower-left corner, awaiting word of its next use.
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.
Looking down into the lunch building of an Atlas D, near the motors for the retractable roof. In this design, the roof separates to allow the missile to be erected into launch position.
Looking into the main workhouse from the skyway into the annex elevator. But who care? Look at the colors!
The roof compromised, rain water rolls down the main stairway.
A typical hallway in the rocket assembly line.
Looking through a secure ward door at the destroyed rooms beyond.
Looking at the engine house (left) from atop the stoves.
Ladders crawl the back of the signs. Graffiti writers’ right of passage.
A string of vehicles have found death at Packard recently. Usually they are simply driving up ramps and pushed off the rooftops, but this one seemed destined for a worse fate. Found in the far corner of the far building.
The historic entrance of the mill, alongside the (relatively) new Great Western offices.
A burned and rusted control panel in the corner of the new hoist room.
Watching the sun set behind downtown Detroit is my favorite memory from the building.
A tunnel between the outside gate and the courtyard shared by the barracks.
Early bird catches the shadow of Battle Mountain blaring across the ghost town.
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.
A typical room in the barracks, reinforced from mortars and light shelling, possibly.
See http://www.thecarriedeer.com/ for details.
The back of the mill reads “Red River Milling Company”
Looking up the grand stair at the second floor.
This heavy door opens directly into the missile vault and was used to load and unload the missile erector.
A long exposure panorama of Electric Steel and Kurth from the roof of Russell Miller B, days before it was demolished.
The top of the barracks staircase.
Sunrise in the orphanage… between classrooms and whispers.
This was one of two skyways that went between production line offices. It’s easy to tell because it’s not reinforced for machinery to travel through it. I also like that it’s a double-decker, so to speak.
Chicago looks in as we look out, for holes and trolls where anything goes.
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 tops of the coke stoves.
A door covered in pen graffiti.
From the catwalks below the hoisting motor in Shaft No. 1.
A panorama of the Shipping/Receiving building on the northeast end of the block. In the old days this would be facing the ‘Dry Dock Hotel’, a boarding house owned by the company, presumably for the use of the men having their boats repaired here.
This ward was the last occupied place in the hospital. It was used as a chemical dependency (drug and alcohol) inpatient program. It seems that they were allowed to paint the walls before they abandoned it… I go back and forth, thinking it is a shame and thinking it is a little cool.
I tried to hide the graffiti from my photos, but sometimes it wasn’t possible.
An impressive message for graffiti in a Detroit warehouse, but then again look at these steam pumps. Over-built and under-appreciated.
A view from the loft in the shipping/receiving building, where the crane operator would step into his cab.
This building is now being used to grow fish.
Sleeping bags mark this former courtyard as a crash pad for the local homeless.
Inside the MLK High School chemistry laboratory.
The long control room overlooks giant caps where equipment was removed long ago.
On the left, the formula for the sintering mix was written (“mischungszusammenselzung”) to keep track of the jobs.
Ruster at The Pool… employee graffiti about 100 above ground.
A depiction of historic Liège, known for its rivers and hills.
The main floor of the hospital was crammed with furniture.
A sign facing the city on an exterior wall–a sort of motivational poster.
Above the offices is this little section of factory that still has strips of wood flooring. This may be where the upholstery was cut.
It seems like this pipe was made to return dust to the collector in the main workhouse from the annex.
I wonder how polluted that water is.
In what has turned into a kind of industrial courtyard between four ovens some people have posted their tags. X was here.
Science Alert. When the sun strikes an object, that object absorbs some of the infared light in the form of heat. The heat absorbed by the old Soo dock absorbed and radiated that energy to melt off the snow from the ice around it, making it very reflective.
Whoever did this: good job. You get it.
In front of a rust-welded Illinois rotary stoker is where the boiler-men made their mark. The last year I can make out is 1985.
Some guerilla art for passing drivers on I-94 East to enjoy. Artist unknown.
Two charmers, I’m sure. This area was a coal pit for the nearby power plant.
A view of the Harris offices, complete with great block glass.
Sunset came fast, and when the good light died inside the Industrial Loft, I walked around the back to find the whole complex glowing.
Boards on the window are like rings on a tree, if you know how to read abandonments.
Wide stairs between the ground, the mine shaft, and the dry house.
The office building was fancy compared to the utilitarian factory behind it. My favorite part was the logo crown.
In the soft wood of the machine, an employee left their mark.
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.
A little sun and a little moisture sprouted this grass in the middle of the steel silos, in the midst of Minneapolis’ “graffiti graveyard”. Two images of time: nature growing through industry and rust dissolving old art in the elements.
The Clipper was one of the most popular Packards, but its production was cut short by WWII. Had they produced the car instead of Rolls Royce plane engines I imagine there would might be driving a Packard today, rather than a Ford.
The cold air collided with the sun-warmed water on the floor, filling the ground floor of the Keg House with thick fog…
At night the city lights blast through the broken windows, casting crazy colors through the off-white interior of the mill.
Inside the west portal is a big liquid propane hand warmer, for workers to take the cold off their gloves as they handled the switches and doors of Cramer Tunnel. Mamiya GA645 / Kodak Pro 400
A tower above Minneapolis that few people see.
Looking out of the “back door”, where equipment could be lifted into the factory with a crane. The bottom of the coal conveyor can be seen outside.
Strange graffiti in a side room. Someone was having fun…
An iron gate separates vaults below the barracks.
The parking lot is in better condition than most of the complex. The left building is the lab.
Platforms and abandoned outbuildings, as seen in 2005.
Where the drain changes shape from round concrete to arched brick.
The bricks routinely fell from the walls, like seeds falling from trees. On a smaller scale, new walls grew from the floors.
Ultimately, it was the bad roof that doomed these buildings.
One of the staircases that connected the lab, the plant, and the offices.
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!
Graffiti by performing artists that hit the stage in the 1990s. I’m no musician, but I do not think it is being played low enough.
The glow from the city is bright enough to read by.
An unplanned skylight. It’s unclear why some parts of the building had wooden roofing, while others were highly reinforced with brick.
And I forget just why I taste / Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile / I found it hard, it’s hard to find / Oh well, whatever, never mind (Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”)
Some of the earlier buildings were dressed up with brick facades.
Between the catwalks of Furnace 6, the molted ore would flow through the chute.
A look down the 1950s foundry building, moments after sunset.
This might have been part of the Pioneer Pellet Plant. It looks to be a ball mill, which pulverizes ore by spinning it with thousands of ball bearings.
I am not sure, but I think this section was a storehouse; it has two ramps that connect the rail yard outside and the blacksmith shop. On all of the historic doors that face that part of the yard, signs caution workers to look out for cars…
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.
One leg of the headframe meets the hoist house. Two cranes are rusted in place.
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 is one of the rooms near Shaft 1 that was converted to be a Dry Room, where workers would wash and change between shifts.
90% of Brach’s looks like this. Concrete walls, mushroom pillars, and water over the floor.
All electrical rooms were surrounded by walls, for obvious reasons. Now all the walls are gone, for reasons less obvious.
Found in one of the rooms that hosted an inpatient chemical dependency unit in its later years. Connect the dots yourself.
A board to track which miners are underground. Low tech, but very effective.
The crumbling building barely contained the colors inside of it.
The new concrete workhouse, as seen through chickenwire.
The taller of the two smokestacks on site. Note the crack around its crown.
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.
A ruined culvert near Oregon Creek, behind Old Main, the predecessor of the University of Minnesota-Duluth.
The neon lighthouse, seen from the top of one of the silos.
Like looking out of an airship.
Next to the pit in the maintenance shop is “The Wall”… where rail workers wrote about interesting happenings at Shoreham.
…out of our depth.
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.
The bottom area of the smokestacks house storage spaces. The windows of these rooms that were never completed line up perfect.
One last look in the mirror before you turn around and walk onstage…
C’mon, guys. PIck up to trash.
Looking out of the labs at the company garages.
This is how the warehouse looks today.
Spring melt flows down the rusty rock house. In the background is the frame for the shaft.
Furnace #7, as seen from #6’s catwalks. Cue morning fog.
The projector booth, above the balcony in the auditorium.
The stairs that connect the breakwater and light station (Leica M6/Kodak Ektar).
The grand staircase with little balconies leaning over it. All the stone stairs are broken and graffiti marks every wall.
Rust undermines the decade old graffiti on the steel bin.
Mill Hell before the University of Minnesota began developing the area. Now many of the buildings are gone, there are new roads and even bike paths.
Downtown and the blight.
My friends know that redheads are my greatest weakness.
A wide view of the hallway behind the small performance space, covered in hundreds of names, aphorisms, and acts that walked up the stairs to the right and onto the small stage.
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.
A colorful makeshift wall.
Looking up at the most conspicuous graffiti in the city on ADM #4.
You can see almost ever level of the factory from this spot.
Dora, the pagan god of urban explorers, stood little chance off Alfred Street.
Partier graffiti dates to when the caves were last open to the public; probably in the 1990s. This tunnel used to horseshoe between the brewery’s ice chute (left) and basement door (right, backfilled). Note the utility tunnel in the upper-right corner as well as the lighting brackets on the ceiling.
In one of the hundreds of bunkers across the busy highway from the empty plant ruins. Most did not have doors, but I got lucky on this one.
What appears to be a building once associated with King Elevator is now a defunct scuba company. To the right of the frame you can see how the concrete on the elevator is beginning to show its rebar.
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?
This “pit” would allow workers to crawl below locomotives to service them.
Note the really old carvings in the mineral-stained sandstone on the walls and ceiling. This little cave was walled-off on one end, making me wonder what the area was for. Lighting is a set of three candles and two LED flashlights and a cigarette.
A splash of pink across an otherwise boring sign caught my eye in the old elevator.
At an abandoned train repair shop.
One of the ugly modern staircases.
Judging from old pictures and maps, raw ore was dumped through these hatches, stamped into a rough powder, and hastily sorted before sending the best ore to the mill. Mills charged by tons of rock sent to them, so it did not pay to send them obvious tails.
For reasons unknown, this building’s concrete was designed a little thinly. It reminds me of a Chicago, IL building constructed during WWI when concrete and steel were strictly rationed and many buildings went up with insufficient superstructures. I do not have a build date for this one yet.
The newer train barn for the SK Pool 4 complex has a car tipper that would clamp and turn the grain cars to dump them into hoppers. FP-100c.
These pools looked into the cribbing below the concrete.
Looking into the half-demolished, half-dismantled conveyor for the sea leg.
The winch that hauled the sea leg, a decide to unload grain from waiting boats and barges.
In the mid-2000s, Peavey sealed the spaces between their Electric Steel Elevator bins. What they unwittingly created was a graffiti time capsule. “Impeach Bush”.
The Atlas D command building. As Brutalist as it gets.
Looking into the cut made for the streetcar tunnel. It looks like there is a door in the wall, but it’s an optical illusion.
A polaroid (FP100c, actually) of the newer grain car dumper.
I love the ghost sign across these two elevators, originally built as Superior Elevator. It’s looking pretty rough.
Even without the kettles the Hamm’s brewhouse is beautifully lit, ornamented architecturally and begging for photographers to remember it.
Looking through a launcher doorway at an outbuilding… the fire truck garage, if I recall correctly. Fomapan medium format in Pentax 67.
2010. A skyway connecting two Which tube carried the beer? I hope it’s the big one!
Squinting from the top floor through the skyway, one can feel small, like they’re in a heavy industrial dollhouse.
Rims where bulbs were, light were motors were, stairs were people were.
The city constructed a wall in the early 2000s to discourage visitors. Note the staircase is cut off, too.
The lower portal of the Selby Tunnel, as it looks today. The area is a popular spot for homeless to camp–can you spot the tent?
The doorframes become more askew every year as the buildings slip downward into the gulch at different rates. This seems to be the part of the mine ruins where transients leave their marks. The graffiti dated back to the 1970s, at least.
Algae grows where water flows/From the sawtooth roof/To the mines below/The sun climbs high/But is in no one’s eyes/A wall alone crumbles/It was no suprise
The spectacular, if precarious, view of downtown Minneapolis from the roof of ADM Annex 4. Note the great messages left by various graffiti artists who made it to the spot.
Generations of Two Harbors teens smoked their first weed in this abandoned building, in my estimation. Comment if I’m right!
Ryan, as seen from the crane ladder.
“See anything?” “No, just more of it.” “How much to go?” “Oh god–we’ve only seen about 10%.” “Guess we should keep moving then…”
Go on and jump in, if you want, there’s even a ladder to climb out.
In the modern control room at the base of the white elevator tower are the electronics that ran the newer building, its rail components and boat-loading component. The superstructure permeates all spaces here, as can be seen with the crossing I-beams in the main office.
Harris Machinery rests under snow on the left. Two explorers enjoy the view.
A 8-foot-tall volume indicator that could be read from across the beet boiler floor–convenient when the controls are 20 feet away.
The buildings were level with one another, so one could look through as many as a dozen factory floors from one window.
A theater turned skate park. How did that happen?
On the upper floors where the sunlight is yellow–the color of flour dust, once exposed to the elements.
The classic Solvay shot. Everyone has it.
Copper thieves haven’t left anything behind but the shell.
The exterior of the factory is unassuming
Jef throws open the back door of an alley for the trailing photographers and historians.
Furnace #6; its catwalk and tapway. Note the lever-operated gutter-blockers.
Call me angsty, but I like it. Found in the Auxiliary Hospital.
The left cave is the largest of the three, and shows the most evidence of expansion.
Looking up at the network of elevators at the Saskatchewan Wheat Pool. Its train shed doors stand open under the void where conveyors should be. You can see where they used to connect on the left and right. The outside of the building is covered in racist graffiti.
Serve [unknown] Build… What do you think the middle says? Tell me in the comments.
A natural reaction with this kind of view.
Taken on a short trip where the whole floor of the roundhouse and engine shop was covered in fresh snow–thanks to the holes in the roof and open windows.
The ‘working’ part of the furnaces are about a story above ground level, so the catwalks snake above the tree line.
Reflections of graffiti during spring melt.
Looking into the engine works from the concrete addition.
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.
A bird near the old schoolyard.
A small machine shop level.
…a little close for comfort.
To the right is the spiral staircase. This building had a definite “floor problem”.
It’s a small world… look at it.
I really liked the bulky pillars on this outer-ring cottage.
A matrix panorama of the brewhouse staircase, post-scrapping. So pretty…
The old hospital (left) and ugly modern additions (right).
Noontime light, long criticized for the boring shadows it grants photographers, comes into its own sometimes.
At this junction where Brewery Creek gets a breath of fresh air stands a kid holding a paintbrush: a Banksy (famous graffiti artist) ripoff.
I follow this advice every day. You should too.
From the boarded-up choir loft above the chapel, minutes after sunrise. Obviously local kids have long had their way with this landmark.
The grain-centric buildings had automatic fire doors.
Additional Sacred Heart Building (1949) Collapse, 2012, Courtesy Chris Naffziger @ http://stlouispatina.blogspot.com/2011/12/st-marys-infirmary.html
This section retains water and is mostly shaded, so moss has found a way to live in the concrete.
The first 800 or so feet of the tunnel is finished with reinforced concrete. The test is raw stone. This is the spot where it switches. Side note: nailing this shot on film is one of my proudest light-painted moments.
Note the pit is filled in here.