I love that the administration building–almost 100 years old now–still carries the original name.
Mold creeps up the walls of the offices that housed the Closing Team of the TCRC – Twin Cities Research Center – as water damage pulls ceiling tiles down.
A view of the government presses, with pages of law across the floor covered in footprints.
The office for the maintenance shop was sound-insulated and ventilated.
The layout of the bins in an elevator office.
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.
In the office at the end of the dock are two brooms. One is from the last ore train. One is from the last boat.
Since the foundry went cold, I decided to turn down my color temperature… In the background, a chart showing graphite dispersion is one of the few artifacts left on the foundry floor.
Office manners dictate that one must tip their file drawer back upright once it is knocked through the wall.
A skyway 100 feet above this office crumbled one day. This is what happened when those two met. High-impact love.
In the middle of the foundry, an office is untouched by scrappers, legal and not. Inside, warnings and catalogs for machines that are gone, obsolete, and melted down.
Kodak Tri-X 400/Leica M7. The office (first floor), laboratory (second floor) and mill behind it. Everything was clean and pristine.
Perhaps this office was for a film studio or music producer.
This elevator was built in 1922 and was used until the passing rails were removed in the mid-1970s.
Sunrise in the orphanage… between classrooms and whispers.
Dominion was acquired by UGG, which designated the elevator ‘M’. Their offices still have safety signage.
The office stairs. Part of Herb’s morning walk.
Offices above the labs. Note all the air handling equipment. I love the utilitarian design.
Silverton’s elevator, pictured here, is still active.
The only thing that signals that this was an office building, rather than another production floor, is the small amount of wood paneling that remains.
The long control room overlooks giant caps where equipment was removed long ago.
Rubber dock boots still sits under the desk in the dock office, near keys to rusted locks and files of fired employees.
There isn’t much left of the factory offices.
This was a living space for the keepers during storms, when it was too dangerous to return to the houses on the point.
One of the last improvements to this elevator was the addition of a new scale in 1968.
The head distiller could walk out of their office to this balcony and overlook the whole fermentation process in a glance.
No ambiguity here… miners, check in at this office.
The company headquarters. Abandoned last time I drove past it, though it is the classiest building in downtown South Bend.
This building stood on stilts until it was demolished. The top floor handled radio traffic to boats and trains. The bottom floor had locker rooms, records, and a lunchroom.
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.
A view of the Harris offices, complete with great block glass.
A calendar and comic strip decorate the current pattern shelf in the building which was a coffin factory.
The office was redder than the rest of the building.
The office building was fancy compared to the utilitarian factory behind it. My favorite part was the logo crown.
Paperwork litters the floors of the zinc mine offices.
An insurance office.
One of many photos pasted to the walls of the ADM-4 workhouse. This shows a minor derailment near Spencer Kellogg & Sons’ linseed oil factory.
Rows of offices under the power plant, which was in the middle of being demolished during my adventure. Despite the snow, this was meant as an interior.
The Calumet Elevator offices used to be flanked on both sides by rails. Now, only one side has engines running on it.