Chains connected hooked baskets and lockers to hoist up clothes and helmets when they were above ground. Whether wet with sweat or dry street clothes, the system worked to unclutter lockers and maintain air circulation around subterranean uniforms.
A different kind of block party.
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
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…
A strange sight: Part of the drain here seems to have had a skylight of glass, which has since been filled over. However, the collapsing ceiling began to create natural skylights of its own.
One of the cupola air intakes, rattled loose by the demolition downstairs, hangs stranded on the second floor. You can see that the floor I’m standing on in this picture used to extend all the way to the right wall. The blue paint on the wall made the climb absolutely worth it.
It was interesting that, even though storms had carried the wooden walkway that stretched under the dock, these piles of spilled taconite remain where they had dropped.
This is one of my favorite doorways (yes, I have favorites) for a few reasons: 1.) You can see how the once-arched door has been squared-off for rectangular doors to fit; 2.) you can see one complete historic door and one ruined door, and the chain that used to hold them together before someone kicked-out the security, and; 3.) I like the texture of the bricks and design of the radiators in the room beyond–the blacksmith shop. Just do.
The State School stage, taken as it was getting scrapped.
The side of King that faces the lake is stained yellow-green.
A sheik mustard-yellow paint scheme across the roofless engine house goes great with the industrial moss and rust.
Taconite Harbor’s main road, now overgrown and leading to nothing. Just asphalt between caved-in curbs.
Police tape marks were kids got hurt in the past… probably from falling from the unstable catwalk above.
Some of the ruins are way off the beaten path… foundations of tank stands and pillars of buildings that never had walls or roofs.
“R.M. ’43”. Brick Graffiti Series.
This part of the roundhouse was being brought down by rain and gravity.
Allouez had already suffered one major fire. It didn’t need another–especially under Dock 1’s wooden approach.
Ryan, as seen from the crane ladder.
Looking from the main shop into the boiler shop, one of three attached buildings that specialized in certain repairs. One thing that architectural photographers have to work with is an elongated “magic hour” with ideal shadowing and coloring–this photo is a result of that lighting.
In the many-windowed metal building, the lumberyard buildings and the abandoned starch works buildings are separated by a thick wall of pallets.
A place to turn mine carts into different areas of the shops.
The conveyorway that carried the sintering material to the mixing floor at the top of the plant.
In this old repair shop, vines fall from the rotting roof to meet mossy concrete. Even though it had been dry for days, water dripped in from the roof to make permanent puddles between workstations. It was full of color and sound and industry and nature.
The stairs of this elevator had their landings removed long ago to keep vandals grounded.
In what has turned into a kind of industrial courtyard between four ovens some people have posted their tags. X was here.
“GREETING FROM BEAUTIFUL GARY–WISH YOU WERE HERE!” My postcard shot.
The east portal, looking toward Nopeming Junction and away from the US Steel ruins and Duluth’s ore docks.