Paperwork litters the floors of the zinc mine offices.
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.
In the corner of the foundry, this lunchroom was literally collapsing under one small leak in the roof. Tile by tile the water ate away the ceiling. Note the clock.
Most of the gauges on the control panels were broken.
Goals for 1980, still tacked onto the wall.
The back of the pilot house had a desk full of navigational notes and maps.
An unmarred chart, printed with the facility name and ready to be sent out to command.
A fireproof room in the basement, perhaps for ammunition storage at one time.
In the mine offices, a training manual for miners sits open. Here’s how you signal to the surface if you are trapped after a disaster.
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.
Taken in a closet in the middle of the demolished coke ovens. No doubt, these charts were for equipment in the ovens.
On the left, the formula for the sintering mix was written (“mischungszusammenselzung”) to keep track of the jobs.
Rubber dock boots still sits under the desk in the dock office, near keys to rusted locks and files of fired employees.
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.
Each patient had a card of record that reported major events. Births, changes in diagnosis, and for some, death.
My favorite picture from the mills. These charts remind me of star charts or orbiting planets.
A reminder on the Gilman union board not to buy Coors beer. Read more here: http://www.cpr.org/news/story/coors-boycott-when-beer-can-signaled-your-politics
It seems someone planned on stealing the fridge, but gave up on the second floor.
Colorado, the most miningest state in the union, seems to be pictured in this lunchroom mural.
A bank of vertical filing cabinets, probably dating to National Guard days.
In case you were wondering what a day in the life of a patient was like in the later years…
Paperwork in the control room, dated 1958.
Records of ore samples, mostly ruined by the water flowing into the space.
Looking at the entrance of the powerplant from its lowest catwalk.
I had to search the shelves a while to find this old logbook. The open page lists changes in stock numbers for Cutler Hammer Coils, and one row says that a new coil was installed on the black larry. The larry is the machine that loads coke ovens.
Records of dead machines rot on the accounting office floor.
This seems to be the space where upholstery patterns would be drafted. On the table were half-finished notes on a new design.
Old parts catalogs litter the floor. The office overlooks empty shelves. Graffiti glue peeling paint in place.
I wonder if these handcarts will become decoration for the hotel being building next to the silos.
An example of a typical desk at Buckstaff… messy, but everything’s there. It probably looks much as it did in 2011 when the plant closed.
A carefully kept journal of the ballast levels in the final years that the Ford sailed Lake Superior.
Punchcards near the plant clinic.
Stacks of patient record cards; names in the graveyard. All ‘Not Improved’.
One basement room has a pile of x-rays of miners, taken and stored by the company.