I love that the administration building–almost 100 years old now–still carries the original name.
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.
A view of the Harris offices, complete with great block glass.
This was a living space for the keepers during storms, when it was too dangerous to return to the houses on the point.
Offices above the labs. Note all the air handling equipment. I love the utilitarian design.
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.
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 office was redder than the rest of the building.
A skyway 100 feet above this office crumbled one day. This is what happened when those two met. High-impact love.
Office manners dictate that one must tip their file drawer back upright once it is knocked through the wall.
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.
Sunrise in the orphanage… between classrooms and whispers.
Rubber dock boots still sits under the desk in the dock office, near keys to rusted locks and files of fired employees.
No ambiguity here… miners, check in at this office.
The office stairs. Part of Herb’s morning walk.
Silverton’s elevator, pictured here, is still active.
The long control room overlooks giant caps where equipment was removed long ago.
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.
There isn’t much left of the factory offices.
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.
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.
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.
The head distiller could walk out of their office to this balcony and overlook the whole fermentation process in a glance.
Kodak Tri-X 400/Leica M7. The office (first floor), laboratory (second floor) and mill behind it. Everything was clean and pristine.
A calendar and comic strip decorate the current pattern shelf in the building which was a coffin factory.
The Calumet Elevator offices used to be flanked on both sides by rails. Now, only one side has engines running on it.
Perhaps this office was for a film studio or music producer.
The office for the maintenance shop was sound-insulated and ventilated.
One of the last improvements to this elevator was the addition of a new scale in 1968.
Dominion was acquired by UGG, which designated the elevator ‘M’. Their offices still have safety signage.
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.
A view of the government presses, with pages of law across the floor covered in footprints.
The company headquarters. Abandoned last time I drove past it, though it is the classiest building in downtown South Bend.
The office building was fancy compared to the utilitarian factory behind it. My favorite part was the logo crown.
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.
This elevator was built in 1922 and was used until the passing rails were removed in the mid-1970s.
Paperwork litters the floors of the zinc mine offices.