Looking across at the Cargill elevator.
Though it’s a little unclear what control station controlled what function, these levers seemed to relate to some of the bigger equipment inside the dredge, such as the trommel.
This “pit” would allow workers to crawl below locomotives to service them.
Lost words over the auditorium entrance.
Sunset came fast, and when the good light died inside the Industrial Loft, I walked around the back to find the whole complex glowing.
Looking through the washer that is the first stop for the dredgings.
Seven TV sets and not one shows my reflection. I’d also like to point out not two of these are the same.
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.
Kate in the Atlas E, which is essentially a buried Atlas D. Above is the protective steel blast door.
The sun lowered behind the dead flour mill, bending its image upon itself.
The dock is still lit at night and it casts shadows over the rust-welded ore doors.
Partier graffiti dates to when the caves were last open to the public; probably in the 1990s. This tunnel used to horseshoe between the brewery’s ice chute (left) and basement door (right, backfilled). Note the utility tunnel in the upper-right corner as well as the lighting brackets on the ceiling.
Looking into the Pool 8 Annex from the original Ogilvie’s elevator.
Sunrise in SEMI. The shadow of Kurth Malt is cast across ADM-Delmar #1. Clouds behind ADM-Delmar #4 light up. It’s cold and the air smells like train grease.
On the outside of the steel silos and headhouse is a riveted bulge that does not look like the silos. Inside is this elevator, a rudimentary (read: dangerous) and old (read: dangerous) freight elevator.
The underground portions of the engine shop were mostly filled in.
What you see is not a crack in the floor, but a long vine extending ten feet onto the shop floor, as if reaching in to escape the wind and rain.
A wide view (15mm) of the shadow 4B is casting on 4A. Light leaks because of cheap camera.
The train loading tower (left), and elevators. Check out that giant flagpole/lightning rod.
The pitch of the roof is more typical for areas with lots of snow—not the border of Ohio and Kentucky. So, I assume this roofline accommodated some equipment inside for trains—note the tracks.
Energy conserving window plastic does no good when the doors are all open and the heat’s off.
A staircase leads behind three of the dock chutes, seemingly to nowhere. The lower on the left held one end of a string of lights above the dock.
After demolition in the mid 2000s, this interior door became exterior. I remember walking through the car shed as a teenager. It was a shortcut, if I didn’t get caught.
Winter skies over Allouez Bay. From a distance, it looks almost fragile.
Looking down the walkway that traces the bottom side of the ore dock.
Shadows of the timberwork and cribbing are cast across cracked lake ice. My footprints follow cat tracks.
On top of the light hoop, 160-feet up, a ship comes into port, ready to load-up. If you look really close, you can see my shadow cast on the dock below, courtesy of the full moon.
On the left is a bathroom, which is why it has the wire mesh over the door; so it could be locked and still be ventilated. On the right side are small double-bed rooms, which still have their heavy wooden doors. More attractive than jail cell doors, but serving the same purpose.
A warped mirror in the rock crusher at the rear of the complex.
What time is it?
The most pointless, beautiful and nuclear-bomb-proof catwalk I’ve been on to date. It goes between two high levels in its own bottom-lit concrete capsule in the center of the tallest, thickest building. Hang on, we’re riding this one out.
Pozo Mine, the most menacing mine building I’ve ever seen. Black and white film, shot with the Fuji GX680, a beast of a camera.
One leg of the headframe meets the hoist house. Two cranes are rusted in place.
In its last years, the church had a congregation of only about 100. It opened with 1.700…
One side of the street is demolished. The other is not.
This old ward, not a victim of remodeling, still has metal screens over the open windows of the doors. It should be obvious why glass were not used.
The white mark allowed for a manual RPM check on this big steel flywheel on the ground floor. Note how dark the bottom level of the mills is—that’s because all of the equipment is blocking out the light.
Camera: Pentax 67.
Unloading boats had the option to take on fuel at Taconite Harbor. This building, among other things, pumped fuel to the dock.
My favorite shot of the 17-story Art Deco office tower attached to the train station.
No ambiguity here… miners, check in at this office.
On the boarded-up first floor of the house proper near the door to the chapel, the last pew sites next to a wet box of Bibles.
The man behind the curtain watches, but doesn’t say anything. Probably the smartest one in the room.
Below the pressure gauges are rows of little pipe fitting drawers.
Camera: Pentax 67. Film: Kodak Ektar 100.
Perhaps this office was for a film studio or music producer.
One of the large barracks. All of them are overgrown like this.
A late look at the brewhouse, long after the stainless steel tanks were scrapped.
Hand painted fire extinguisher notices and a long room which I strongly suspect was a pattern cutting room.
The building behind Daisy was demolished, leaving these tanks and a pointless conveyorway. Now it’s bricked (see over door near right corner of mill) and the tanks are exposed to the elements. There are a few holes in the area that have a healthy drop, so you should avoid the area.
Days after the long-flooded basement was pumped out. Note the water lines!
Like a grave marker, a single post remembers where Dock 3 stood on the bay.
The missiles were stored without fuel, to help prevent mishaps. This is the fuel pumping building and one of the tanks.
ADM overshadows the Meal Elevator. The cleared area behind is now home to Surley Brewery.
The water tower no doubt made good scrap after it hit the ground.
A panorama next to a long abandoned adit. The tram has seen better days.
This is what the mine shops look like from the road between Gaastra, MI and Rogers Location (formerly Bates, MI). The community was renamed for the mine, probably under the heavy influence of M.A. Hanna.
North of the assembly complex is a storage network of earthen and concrete bunkers.
An abandoned news stand between the concourse and ticket booths. This is one of my favorite pictures from the 2000s.
Electric Steel’s bins reflect the sunset.
You can see why so few products had bright packaging. If the can here was brown, you’d never see it in a dark wood cabinet.
This floor of the workhouse had corkscrew conveyors–big augers–in the floor to move material around. Most of the walls that were metal were missing, leaving the concrete structure and open doors.
A tunnel between the outside gate and the courtyard shared by the barracks.
It’s not hard to see how Germany could turn these into a prison overnight.
A tunnel connecting the two larger caves in the hill; those that Jacob vented in the rear. The vents are still extant!
I really like the way this high-ceilinged room is decaying. Well, decayed. It’s demolished now.
Inside the west portal is a big liquid propane hand warmer, for workers to take the cold off their gloves as they handled the switches and doors of Cramer Tunnel. Mamiya GA645 / Kodak Pro 400
Different colors stained the small panes on the top floor. For once, it seemed more ridiculous to not be inside an abandoned factory.
Indianapolis’ beautiful downtown is in the distance, past the gas storage tank.
Typical bunk rooms in MS-20.
One of a few rolling workbenches to keep the thousands of pulleys, cogs, and belts working properly.
The ice reflects the blue sky on the rust. The sunset blasts through the concrete pillars holding it all up.
The gothic landing between balcony and classroom level and the ground floor.
A simple porcelain fountain in the original brewhouse. The water fountain, no doubt, is not original.
Harsh rail yard lighting throws shadows of broken windows against the line of boilers.
Looking up at the network of elevators at the Saskatchewan Wheat Pool. Its train shed doors stand open under the void where conveyors should be. You can see where they used to connect on the left and right. The outside of the building is covered in racist graffiti.
The roof of the elevator was partly lit naturally with six big skylights. The less electricity pumped into a grain elevator, the less chance of a grain dust explosion.
Peering out of the porthole of the light tower, I saw the shadow of the station on the lake.
This ornamental stair is cast iron and used to connect all floors of the Administration building. Now it connects the first and second floor, then the third and fourth floors, with a strange cinder block and drywall barrier separating the new and old sections of the building. Note the insulation on the floor to seal heat into the lower floors that were used as offices until the hospital closed. On the corners of the staircase are lions, on the corners of the suspended section of stair are down-hanging pineapples. Set in the stairs themselves are shield motifs with slate tops.
In the quality assurance labs there is a old safe.
The light next to this acid tank was perfect, thanks to a gaping hole in the roof.
When Nopeming was affiliated with local farms, it often slaughtered its own livestock. This is the part of the hospital where food would be prepped, below the stage in the Service Building.
An alarm panel in the powerpplant, now demolished.
The crane on Dock 2, as seen from Dock 4 right after sunset. Notice the old light tower is warped.
Looking at the side of 4B from the roof of its car shed.
This sea leg was installed to unload grain boats. It’s pretty much a big bucket elevator that can be moved and lowered into waiting boats.
Like a railgun pointed at the Rockies… the boom would direct tailings–junk rock–outside of the dredge pond.
He had the knees of a stallion. RIP.
The aft lifeboat survived auction, although now all it holds is an emergency ladder to help men who’ve fallen overboard get on deck.
Looking toward the old power house, right below one of its arteries.
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.
Far away, you can see the red lights on the steam plant smokestack. To the extreme right is the beginning of the Minneapolis skyline. Paint (where this was taken) and Assembly (where the blue light is) were connected with a long skyway that carried completed trucks to be painted. I assume the device in the foreground burned volatiles from the painting process.
A long exposure of the city glow illuminating the roof, highlighting the victorian and gothic influences on the brew house.
This is one of the modern nurse’s stations where the last inpatients lived in the mid-2000s. The windows are thick shatterproof plastic. I am unsure why the suspended ceiling is missing.
I never knew that all those elementary school balance bar exercises were for a very serious purpose: not falling to one’s death in the event they uncover lost Chicago history.
A super-long exposure of the side of the middle of Daisy Elevator, built in 1927. The oldest silos are closest to the mill and date to 1916. They were expanded toward Superior in 1927 and 1941. The total capacity is about 500,000 bushels.
Without proper pressure, the steering engine was ineffective.
A typical building from the expanded starch line.
From factory to skate park to restaurant. This is in the skate park stage. The buildings to the right are demolished now, and in their place are hockey rinks.
In a protected wing of a launcher are these empty server racks where guidance and control computers were stored.
These aluminum powder kegs were forgotten in storage.
The guts of the dock are connected with a long narrow hallway. Below this section are shops and labs.
A new loading shed to fill train cars.
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 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.
Negative twenty looks much warmer in retrospect, wouldn’t you say? Taken through the window of a gantry crane cab.
Everyone loves water towers.
The old movie theatre sign was sitting right inside the sealed front doors.
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.
A wounded flour mill, muscled into the corner to keep out of the way.
The pits have long since been filled so the roundhouse could be used for storage.
The old hotel doesn’t like to show its age. Indeed, if it had a few paint job and soft remodel it would be fit to open–that is, if there was a need for it in this tiny rural New York town.
This was not always the top of the elevator.
Standing on the fence barricade that used to keep squatters out of the tunnel, the size of the space is impressive. What you see here is the current length of the tunnel; I set up a flashlight at the end to illuminate the concrete wall that is the lower portal.
This was the exterior wall of the roundhouse; engines would have entered on the other side and machinery would line this side, hence the big windows for natural light.
This section retains water and is mostly shaded, so moss has found a way to live in the concrete.
From the highest roof of Ogvilvie’s, Thunder Bay looks like paradise.
I wonder when fluorescent lighting was added.
In an old ward, two men would have shared this room.
These concrete blocks were formed to be solid mounts for machinery. All the metal was scrapped in the late 1990s, leaving these modern ruins. Seagulls love them.
The first floor of the Industrial Loft building.
Dirty filters for some equipment hang, awaiting a purpose.
Before each warhead was crated, it was inspected.
My favorite shot of 2011; a rusty mold for a heart-shaped glass candy dish in its natural environment, so to speak.
Call me angsty, but I like it. Found in the Auxiliary Hospital.
Looking toward Duluth from the top of a Dock 1 light tower. NP Dock 1 is on the left… an earlier competitor to Allouez. The stars reflect on Lake Superior.
Empty equipment racks behind a missile launcher.
An unplanned skylight. It’s unclear why some parts of the building had wooden roofing, while others were highly reinforced with brick.
Pipe fittings in little drawers, lit by tea lights.
Lockers for the boiler room workers.
Grain is taken from the bottom of the silos through a conveyor in a tunnel. These blowers keep the air in the tunnel fresh.
The old truck scale sits in the middle of what was Nettleton Avenue Slip.
Wintertime is quiet, except for the planes overhead.
These wide spools sit atop the abandoned tracks that lead to the train shed, which was later repurposed into a truck shed.
The huge snowfalls of 2011 brought new collapses across the buildings.
The exterior of the factory is unassuming
“GREETING FROM BEAUTIFUL GARY–WISH YOU WERE HERE!” My postcard shot.
What looks to be a skip for repairing the dock, in the concrete steeple.
A typical room in Birtle.
I don’t think we’re anywhere near maximum pressure anymore.
This dock goes between loading bays (see glass brick walls) and the railroad.
Birch shadows on stone walls… have you been looking at my Christmas list?
My favorite shot from the trip. Later in its life, the plant was converted to burn its own byproducts, but it seems this was designed as a coal hopper.
The hoist room, before it was used for storage.
Go on and jump in, if you want, there’s even a ladder to climb out.
The control room for the whole of the plant. Sinterband here means one of the sintering lines. Temperatures, gasses, mixtures, speeds, and so on were centrally controlled here.
Fergus Falls State Hospital. Well, technically moonlight… but a with stars nonetheless! The orange glow from the left and in the rear of the building are exterior lights on associated–former State Hospital–buildings. All other light is from the full moon that evening.
A divot to let more light and air into the building.
In the middle of Electric Steel, dust collector vents cross-cross out of sight.
A buck-fifty shot for a postcard stand. Taken from the Stone Arch Bridge.
A window for light and air pokes above the big arch in the hallway. Most of the interior ceilings were broad brick archways.
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
Beautiful details in the plaster moulding have been preserved by the sheer height of this room between the cathedral and auditorium.
As photographed from a cement piling for Slip #3 poured in 1935, disconnected from land by erosion. How do I know the date? A pair of steamship engineers carved their initials and ranks into the wet cement!
An experimental shaft dug in the 1950s and its Hoist House.
As the Barker steamed past the dock and island, the sunset casts the shadow of the Taconite Harbor receiving trestle on the boat. Through the fog, you can see some of the islands that were joined into a breakwater.
This was one of two skyways that went between production line offices. It’s easy to tell because it’s not reinforced for machinery to travel through it. I also like that it’s a double-decker, so to speak.
The second most important building at Prize Mine.
Almost all of the doors and windows on the ground floor have been boarded, leaving the ground level very dark.
An experimental shaft dug in the 1950s and its Hoist House.
While the last of the Studebaker production buildings were being demolished, I visited again. Here’s a shot taken shortly after the demolition crew left for the day.
The light masts are there, but it looks like the cables that stretched across the dock with the actual lights have fallen down.
On the left is the 1907 elevator section and its 1926 expansion is on the right. Interesting how the century-old silos seem to be faring better. Windows provided light to the underground conveyor tunnels, which were used to bring grain out of the silos by gravity.
Looking from the mill at the old transfer elevator’s steel tanks.
This is my favorite wallpaper in the whole hotel.
I didn’t test the rungs, but I bet the view was incredible.
The valley is full of rocky peaks that stand out from the winding creeks, which only truly run after storms. It is a very beautiful place.
The iconic outline of a prairie sentinel. Quintessential rural industrial architecture.
One of two projectors, still set to run old 3D flicks.
My favorite time to be in the brewery was sunrise. That’s the kind of light that made the brewhouse glow.
Taken as I drove out of Silverton, CO. One of my favorite landscapes of 2015. Want a print? Email me!
This gives you a sense for what it looks like to stand on the roof of the main production building at sunset.
A portrait of the second school of McConnell, built in 1937.
The cemetery for the old asylum is, sadly, largely unmarked. Only in recent years has there been a real effort to locate and identify the remains there.
A bunk room, minus the bunks.
The railing were jealous of both the bricks and bits, and chose instead to dissolve like this.
When the Mitchell project is complete, I’ll miss the textures on the face of the boiler.
Standing on the ruins of the former sister dock, looking back at the soon-to-be-demolished family member. The pilings I stood on for the shot were those of the Chicago and North Western RR #3 which was dismantled in 1960 and used to be 2,040-feet long.
This seemed to be the newest building on the property.
The Beeghley was launched in 1958… you can see it unloading limestone here with its retrofitted self-unloader. Update: This ship has been renamed the ‘James L. Oberstar’ after the Minnesota Senator. [Read more on Boardnerd.com here: http://www.boatnerd.com/pictures/fleet/oberstar.htm]
Shadows of the skylights form a backdrop for rust-welded machines.
The hospital was surrounded by walking paths that crisscrossed the front green, as it was called. Part of Kirkbride’s plan was to have ample opportunities for exercise outdoors–fresh air, especially cold fresh air, was thought to have curative properties.
A light-painted portrait of one of the few remaining carts that moved everything from fresh eggs to soiled laundry through the tunnels.
The side of the maintenance shops, still home to several disassembled electric carts.
The scale of the grain hoppers helps tell the story of how large Hamm’s was in its day.
The concrete annex elevator had interesting graffiti. Much of it from the 1980s and 1990s.
When the factory’s production line was up for auction, many parts were removed, crated and labeled with big painted numbers to ease their removal by buyers. Not everything sold, however, so not one dark corner of the factory seems without a pile of dislocated industrial junk.
The iron holding up the plaster ceiling is rusted to the point the weight of it is bending it right over.
Miller Creek, in one of the wider sections that features a trout (as in the fish) canal in the middle of the drain. Even though it is underground, the fish are able to visit their breeding ponds upstream by swimming through the specially designed tunnel.
The layout and design of the buildings reminded me strongly of a brewery or distillery. To the right you can see some of the retrofits by the first lumber company to buy the buildings, in the 1970s.
The coal water power plant stack accompanied the smell of an arson.
The first floor hallway between conference rooms and the diesel lab at the center of the facility
Two bin signs criss-cross in the North Annex.
Grand Army, as seen from a Gilman Tram grade.
This room on the top floor of one of the oldest buildings has seemingly not changed since it was adapted for employee use. Some sections of the hospital were adapted for staff to live in. Paying Patient Ward–where capable patients were separated from wards of the state.
The steam-powered hoist that pulled ore and dropped men from the mine. Note the hydraulic-operated brake on top with its massive brake pad. Now scrapped.
Thunder Bay Elevator, now stands without a headhouse. Around the silos, a few shacks still stand.
A damaged roof channeled rain onto the adobe walls, cutting them in half. In the distance, a preserved house and the ruins of the Colmor School.