Next to the generator room is the pump room, which moved steam around the complex.
The east side of the boiler shop sported a platform with a control booth and heavy machine mounts. Note the door that replaces the lower section of stairs for explorers.
Dirty filters for some equipment hang, awaiting a purpose.
A gateway for St. Louis as seen through a gateway (of sorts) in East St. Louis.
Brewery Creek Waterfall, somewhere above Duluth. Lit with candles and a small LED panel. To me, it looked like a pipe pouring molten metal.
The entry point for the painting shed on the top floor. Cars would have a few feet in between them before they entered. Separate sheds would prime and add color.
Sunset through a stained window in the headhouse made the floor feel like a heavy industrial Disney movie.
Dust explosions were a real risk for grain mills. These funnels helped to filter the air in the mill.
When boiling beet juice accidentally spills from the gas-fired tanks two feet away, you better be wearing some of these, or bye-bye legs.
Because painted signs would not hold up in this spot–in between four ovens that were literally hot enough to melt steel inside. Solution: Cut the pipe labels into the sheet metal. Seems to have worked.
The mostly-empty distilling room is easy to spot from the outside because of the distinctive round window.
Much of the circa-1950s buildings remain with few alterations, such as these long boring sheet metal ruststicks.
Some parts of the doctor’s apartment in the Administration Tower were decidedly upscale. Look at the beautiful ironwork on that sink!
Scrappers infamously gutted the factory, but this one green conduit going from the sintering floor all the way to ground level seems to have been spared.
This is what it might have looked like if a new Ford descended in the elevator with its headlights on. As seen from the Mississippi side–the opposite portal faces the sand mine.
Gloves hang in the basement of the former quality assurance labs.
Halfway up the coal conveyor, covered in coal dust… black streaks of snot. Starting to get good.
SWP4-A on the left and Viterra C on the right in a 90-degree panorama.
One of the only remaining pieces of equipment in the distilling room is this green control panel on a bridge suspended in the middle of it all.
This is the crane that would be used to lower extra-heavy bits of copper ore into the fire of the furnace.
It seems like this pipe was made to return dust to the collector in the main workhouse from the annex.
The newer tunnels were fitted with these fluorescent lights, although some skylights (block glass embedded in skywalks) let in some natural light during the day.
Across the walls of the brick repair shop, near where men and machine entered Shaft No. 3, vines, pipes, and graffiti battle unknowingly for visual prominence.
The powerhouse was notably older than the rest of the complex. I’m still not sure if it was build just for the cooperage, or whether it preceded it.
One thing that made the Eagle Mine unique is the underground mill, left of this picture. As the rocks moved down the mill, they would be turned into finer and finer powder.
Looking up from the industrial courtyard.
The top floor of the Dominion Elevator. Acros 100 on 120.
2010. A skyway connecting two Which tube carried the beer? I hope it’s the big one!
A light-painted portrait of one of the few remaining carts that moved everything from fresh eggs to soiled laundry through the tunnels.
Heavy steel doors to isolate the underground magnetic separation mill from Eagle Mine’s main tunnel.
Steam pipes snake up the walls like vines, but with asbestos.
The giant radiators in this casting shop look like a flag to me.
A few from atop the steam gauges along the western wall. The turbines were scrapped quickly after the plant closed, it seemed.
One of a few dozen steel bed frames left in the rubble of the collapsing building.
Past the underground repair shop is this cliffside adit.
A control panel that was mothballed, anticipating a time when the plant may be reactivated.
Goop and slop slip to drop in the shame drain.
On the second floor of the kettle building where corn mash was boiled, holes where tanks once sat were everywhere.
Generations of Two Harbors teens smoked their first weed in this abandoned building, in my estimation. Comment if I’m right!
Look at the floor–do you see the hole? That goes down a lonnnnnng ways.
At noon, the lower skylights around the shops glow yellow-green, thanks to the flora blooming on the roof above.
Water at the bottom of the silo was perfectly clear.
The wrought iron staircase for what was the Consumer’s Brewery Brew House, as indicated by very fine cast landings with the company logo. The staircase is in bad condition; someone had run a forklift or something similar into the bottom in addition to copious vandalism and water damage. Holes in the floor, like in the upper-right corner indicate where stainless steel kettles used to be before they were scrapped.
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.
A tunnel that brought heat from the power plant to the Hart House. Since that building was demolished, this only served as a fallout shelter. To my knowledge, this was never used to move bodies to the incinerator. That was probably done with a vehicle and the lower entrance to the power station, which did dispose of TB victims for some time.
The Engine House’s boiler, which would have been fired all day all day, virtually from the day the shop opened until the day it closed.
The Comm Room’s portals once supported many more conduits.
The light next to this acid tank was perfect, thanks to a gaping hole in the roof.
The skylights with geared-to-open windows were massive and quite functional.
The flour mill (rear) and its elevators. The taller elevator was moved here in 1955, when the Harrisons bought it from Federal, who declared it surplus. The smaller elevator replaced an earlier smaller warehouse in 1926. Taken shortly after dawn. This one picture made the drive worth it, for me. Medium Format.
I tried to hide the graffiti from my photos, but sometimes it wasn’t possible.
The neon lighthouse, seen from the top of one of the silos.
A natural stone floor in Brewery Creek’s upper path has been worn smooth.
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.
A brewmaster’s desk leans beside a long-disused stainless steel kettle. The staircase above goes to another level of kettles, which are visibly older.
Blue plastic siding filters the summer sun, giving the otherwise reddish-brown interior a splash of color.
If there were no other options, operators could climb this ladder from the Communications Room to the surface, after opening two heavy steel hatches, of course.
Looking across a skyway at the dust-collecting funnels, one of the few pieces of equipment that haven’t been completely decimated by time and the elements.
A chalkboard halfway to the headhouse is untouched since the mill closed. It still has the cheat sheets!
Looking from the mill at the old transfer elevator’s steel tanks.
The basement of the asylum was a strange place. Take, this fireplace, for instance, in an otherwise barren room. Random cinderblock (left) has created a little room behind the fireplace. To round out the strangeness, a toilet was plumbed into the middle of the space. Note the stone foundations.
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.
Chester Creek takes many such sliding dives where it empties into Lake Superior.
In what has turned into a kind of industrial courtyard between four ovens some people have posted their tags. X was here.
Blast Furnace 7 as seen from the ore yard. Imagine running up those stairs through blast furnace smoke.
A wrecked pressure gauge and employee time cards.
In the steam plant, steam pipes bundled in canvas and asbestos criss-cross the walls.
This side of the mill, which abuts the Great Miami River, is much older than the other side of B Street. You can tell it went through many revisions.
C’mon and grab your friends… we’ll go to very—rusty lands…
Looking into the main workhouse from the skyway into the annex elevator. But who care? Look at the colors!
Looking into the Pool 8 Annex from the original Ogilvie’s elevator.
The sun sets in front of a huge concrete building—about four times the size of the power plant. Probably a corn storage bin from an ethanol operation that ran here in the 1980s.
The only good shot I have of the top of Battery A, in the upper left. Though it seemed to have been disused before its neighbor it had a lot less growth on it.
The perfect place to have a post-industrial picnic.
The first step of the filtering process is being spun through this tube.
Chester Creek’s lower sections change, demarking decades of change for Superior Street.
The bricks routinely fell from the walls, like seeds falling from trees. On a smaller scale, new walls grew from the floors.
A porcelain basin in the locker room is detached, but shows excellent patina. I hope when the machine shop is repurposed that this can be saved.
Easier-to-demolish parts of the power plant were torched apart. Catwalks to nowhere meant lots of dead ends.
Jet Lowe is my inspiration.
One level below where the cotton was nitrated, the fumes must have been powerful. This floor had several massive ventilation fans in its walls.
Water damage dissolved the ceiling into sludge. Pillars remain, as do the plastic light covers, now on the floor.
Sluice tables stretch into the darkness.
These machines circulated water through the powder from the ball mills. Gold and silver is heavier than gravel, so it sinks while the junk rock floats.
Gold, which has a relatively high mass, would drop through the slats of the sluice boxes as the water flowed over them. Around the dredge were a half dozen radiator pipes to keep the water flowing through the machines.
A huge steel tank, one of several left over, left over from either the Ashland Oil or Allied Chemical periods.
The view from the larry, looking out at the overgrowing coke oven top. Papers listed the order of the charges for each oven, noting the sticky doors and persistent leaks. Emergency respirators and rescue gear was stored close, as long exposure to emissions from the rusty hatches could make worker pass out on the top of the ovens.
This picture shows the challenges of moving around underground in the base.
One of the older buildings on the site, this is an old power house that provided electricity to the plant. I spent some time walking around it and believe it was fired with coal gas but had a diesel backup installed later.
Part of the system below Dock 2.
In the ward for the criminally insane, this door was the most-worn. Nail scratches mark the area around the peep hole, the wood is gouged everywhere from thrown chairs and hard kicks, and a ominous blood-colored stain is visible where it dripped in the second inset from the bottom. Aside from the damage, the coloring in this section was very vibrant, though it was probably little reprieve for those who had to work here.
These stairs connected some small main-level offices with one of the main sewing rooms above. Because the roof on this building was strong, it was pretty well preserved–look at those colors. Through the open fire door on the left, though, you can see that the roof has given out.
The gulls wait to eat the next load of spilled grain. Arista 100.
The final ball mill in the Chain O’ Mines concentrator. Behind it was a bucket of steel balls.
The front door to the auditorium.
The middle section of the smokestacks were coal hoppers, and this device would load the coal into the hoppers from the conveyor belt it rode across. The bottom section of the stacks were storage rooms while the very top were, surprise, chimneys for the power plant.
On the middle level of the Poacher House. For a detailed view of the chart see ‘See Reverse’.
The sun was setting outside, highlighting the textures and lines that made the form of the power plant take a fourth dimension–time.
Tunnels interconnected all of the complex, carrying power, steam, laundry and food throughout the hospital. This is a typical causeway that would have been very busy when the hospital was operating. In some places, signs still point to defunct areas of the hospital.
After a short rainfall douses the mill in downtown Fergus Falls, the river next to the brick walls swells and the sounds of water overtakes the echos of the nearby bars. Reflections are on the foundation of the former distribution and rail building.
The conveyor between the shore and Dock 2. Note the gap in the aerial walkway that used to connect Dock 4 to the rest of the complex.
Filters and fans to draw air into the boilers in the second power plant.
In a strange loft next to the brewhouse are these twin kettles, which seem much older than the main kettles in the brewhouse.
This volume gauge could be read from 30 feet away, which is useful when the control panels and valves are that far away.
This picture tells half the story about the size of half of the complex. For Port Arthur, it’s average, but this would be a fantastically large elevator if it were anywhere else!
Every floor of the main hospital buildings had its own bathrooms. They often make obvious the fact that these buildings were intentionally built as permanent structures. Even a century after they were built, and several decades of total neglect, they were in fabulous condition.
Shadows of the skylights form a backdrop for rust-welded machines.
A wide view of the steam pump room, complete with pistons (taken apart for their brass), flywheels (covered in graffiti and rust) and pressure gauges (smashed apart for fun). I guess what I’m trying to say is, I was not disappointed.
A tower above Minneapolis that few people see.
No wonder the factory shut down; everyone was scheduled to work 9 to 5 and the clock’s broken! (In all seriousness, this is/used to be a beautiful timepiece, especially for a utilitarian factory like this.
In the middle of Electric Steel, dust collector vents cross-cross out of sight.
This building had its own kitchen, suggesting that it may have been one of the hospitals units within Norwich, such as the tuberculosis hospital.
These steam powered pumps were integral to the cooling of the meat packing plant next door.
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”)
Observing War City in the midst of an electric storm. This photo is lit almost entirely by lightning.
It was as noisy then as it is colorful now…
Ryan, as seen from the crane ladder.
What are we to do in an emergency?
A winding flue between the ovens for Furnace 6, capped with sketchy catwalks.
Depending on the position of the valve, flour could be routed from the filtering process back into a mill.
The four buildings seen here comprise almost all of the notable remaining structures.
Looking up the Dominion Elevator’s tower. I especially like this picture because it shows how so much of the electrical conduits wound round through the mostly hollow space.
Sprays of water kept the muddy mixture flowing across the sluices, which filtered out gold particles from gravel and dirty.
In the upper left of the image you can see where the gas tanks used to be, along with the concentration equipment. Along the bottom you can also see some of the many railroad tracks coming and going from the plant–the ones visible here were incoming tracks that carried in hard coal from the eastern US.
Some warnings on the older battery which was visibly older than its eastern counterpart. This set of batteries had no railing between the side of the ovens and a long drop onto railroad tracks… I like this picture because it shows the effects of the heat and corrosive gasses on the area around the ovens.
A sign of where man met machine.
One of the early automated painting booths in the paint plant line.
This is an elevator to move mine car loads of sand to the surface for cleaning and eventually glass production. Below is a flooded equipment vault. In front and behind is a loop through the larger tunnels in the mine. The horizontal braces supported electric cables for the mine carts.
Although the caves deviated little in their year-round temperature, it was common to use blocks of ice to cool beer immediately before shipment. This is the ruins of the ice chute.
A typical large mine tunnel. You can just make out the narrow gauge rail.
This picture is lit by a direct lightning strike of the building. It’s impossible to describe the feeling of being in this giant open building the moment it channeled an electric explosion into the earth.
Either the company was pulling parts from this evaporator to use as parts for other plants, or the last thing the workers did was to get this machine ready for the next campaign. Either way, plans changed.
In the nitrating house.
A ruined culvert near Oregon Creek, behind Old Main, the predecessor of the University of Minnesota-Duluth.
Looking up at the LEMP malting plant elevator. Look at that BRICKWORK!
ADM-Delmar #1- Maintainance Department. The stainless steel bits are part of the grain dryer added in the 1940s. The workhouse itself (the larger tower) was a dedicated Cleaning House, meaning that grain passed through both these buildings to be rid of dust, dirt and extra moisture before storage. In the foreground is the old ADM locker room and pipe department.
These ceramic bricks were likely from the fireproof tunnel that connected the elevators.
The water tower no doubt made good scrap after it hit the ground.
This is a typical view of the factory; most of it was long hallways flanked by piles of equipment and access points to maintain them.
In the Lime House, the sunset picked-up the last light of day to make this image. Lime is used in the beet sugar refinement process to reduce the acidity of the beet juice mixture.
The conveyorway between the on-site grain elevator and mill.
The working end of the blast furnace, where molten metal would flow like lava out of the furnace… a process called ‘tapping’.
There are so many pipes i the factory–I wonder how many people knew where they all went, in the days these machines operated at capacity.
A caustic tank in one of the unremodeled brewhouse backrooms.
Fall in line, act skinny, watch out for low hanging pipes. Don’t ask me where in the maze this was… 90% of the plant looked like this; vast rooms and catwalks with crisscrossing pipes and valves.
The only door into a large windowless concrete room, probably a storage bin. Kodak Portra 160/Mamiya 6.
After climbing the elevator shaft to the illusive second level, a new pallet of colors were revealed.
The sound of water running in the distance.
The engine room.
A century-old ghost sign for Royal House Flour was preserved after a building is built above and through it! Looking from the north annex elevator toward the headhouse.
Pipes to channel nitrose (think nitro glycerine) infused acid through the building.
Standing next to the now-demolished records room.
Standing atop the dust collector, the factory breaks down into diverging patterns, processes.
Unloading boats had the option to take on fuel at Taconite Harbor. This building, among other things, pumped fuel to the dock.
The rust garden’s brick centerpiece contrasts the muted winter Kentucky palette.
Looking toward the old power house, right below one of its arteries.
I love when moss grows indoors… one of the little pleasures of exploring abandonments.
A great lakes freighter slowly passes SK Wheat Pool 4 with ‘The Sleeping Giant’ in the background. Arista 100.
The power plant of the Old Crow distillery was mostly original. I didn’t have a tripod, so I had to balance my camera on the equipment there.
A simple porcelain fountain in the original brewhouse. The water fountain, no doubt, is not original.
One of my favorite shots of the headhouse at the Saskatchewan Wheat Pool #4, with one seagull threading the needle. The socket holes on the frame got blown out thanks to my bad developing, but I like the effect. Arista 100.
Looking into the tunnel system from below the Women’s Ward. The tunnels were used mostly by staff to move food and laundry.
The elevator works on gravity… this is where a conveyor belt was to move the grain toward the main elevator to be loaded into ships.
After crushing, these machines would float lighter material to the surface of the water, where it would be skimmed and discarded. Gold and silver laden stone would sink to the bottom, where it was collected for the next stage of processing. Leica/Summilux 35/Ektar 100
Spots of yellow gravel mark gold mines with nothing left on the surface. Is this one of the drainage pipes?
When it was convenient, the sugar company would pull equipment, even pipes, from one mill for another.
The many levels of catwalks make for a place where you can look from the ground floor to the roof, about 4 stories up.
Looking at the engine house (left) from atop the stoves.
This load of lime seems to have been left right where it was loaded.
This giant gear’s sole purpose was to turn the ship’s single rudder in all conditions.
The end of the new elevator. Line of bird droppings follow the fire sprinkler pipes and wires in the room.
Some small candles light one of the few surviving tunnels that once linked buildings on the campus with the steam plant. In winter, it was common for patients to be transported through these to avoid the cold, and during the Cold War these served as nuclear fallout shelters.
Island Station, in the middle of the power house, in the middle of a thunder storm. Flapping pipe covers and sheets of ran penetrating one massive arched window and blasting through the other, as winds power through the building from the Mississippi. The sound of the thunder made every length of steel squeak under the pressure.
There were three main stockhouses, two of which still exist, that are filled with tanks like these in addition to Fermentation. Each tank is the size of the city bus and few are left after the 2008-2009 scrapings.
The superstructure for the sea-leg skyways serves no purpose now… the offices are bricked up, too. Why?
The end of the heating line allowed glass to cool slowly, and thus be stronger.
So much relies on one thing stacked on top of another thing.
Days after the long-flooded basement was pumped out. Note the water lines!
A typical stretch of the assembly line.
These copulas made the iron for casting.
The huge snowfalls of 2011 brought new collapses across the buildings.
The gauges on left of frame are the steam pressure indicators for the various steam-powered components around the ship, like the steering engine and windlass motors. Below the gauges are a case of tiny wooden parts drawers… note the ancient oiling can on the locker near the upper-right corner of the frame.
These tubes would bring cement to the top of the plant for storage in the silos.
2005. A skyway connecting two Which tube carried the beer? I hope it’s the big one!
At the extreme eastern end of the plant is a bank of modern concrete silos. Kodak Portra 160/Mamiya 6.
Watch your head, say the colors. This side of the plant is apparently still standing and is owned by the city.
The bottom of the stairs leading from the work floor to the cafeteria.
I did not take the escape ladder to the surface, but I am told it pops up in the middle of a hill next to the missile silo doors.
On the upper floors where the sunlight is yellow–the color of flour dust, once exposed to the elements.
A side view of the oven pusher from the ground. The tallest coal bunker looks tiny in the distance, though on the scale of the factory it’s practically on top of me as I’m taking the picture.
The generator hall of the last power station, as seen from the gantryway.
To run new gutters through the building, some of the plaster walls of the Chateau had to be smashed through.
Isabella A (left) and B (right) were built in 1910 and 1913, respectively.
The only way to get to the second floor–since demolition crews punched-out the staircases and ladders leading upwards–was to climb this elevator shaft. In the lower-left corner is a blower for the foundry furnaces.
Chester Creek, where it was forced to dip below the circa-1970s I-35 tunnels.
The shed in the front was full of worker supplies–namely goggles and heavy leather gloves. Molten copper isn’t a friendly thing to handle.
Water vapor was collected and condensed to be reused in other processes. Kodak Tri-X 400/Leica M7