A side door on the rear of the castle that let guests out into a small stone courtyard below a tall turret.
I love these heavy rolling doors in the old tobacco processing building.
Looking into the cut made for the streetcar tunnel. It looks like there is a door in the wall, but it’s an optical illusion.
This ruined skyway looks like it should be at ground level because of the growth, but it’s actually the second floor of the building.
Between lines of Number Sixes right after sun rose behind them. This photo shows how extremely lush the grounds are that make getting around in some places impossible.
Sadly, this picture is dated from the fact there’s a single piece of glass unbroken. Since this was taken, the entrance to the church has been vandalized even more.
The left building is active, the right building is not, though both were built as Wilson Bros buildings. The skyway was rough, inside and out, but I liked the small gate in the bottom of it–it reminded me of a castle. Skyways like these were a fireproofing measure.
One side of the street is demolished. The other is not.
The historical entrance.
Transfer Elevator, Built 1916
Vines are finding their way into the roundhouse.
ZC was sure proud of his castle!
This battlement-like tower is the first thing one sees coming to Old Taylor from Frankfort.
Mark poses for scale in the natural section of the cave. It appears to have been created by erosion, where water following the natural fault (crack above) washed the sandstone below away, thereby creating a dead space. The stone doorway appeared to be original.
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 barracks are being reclaimed by nature.
The headquarters for the plant was in the middle of it. It’s abandoned but well preserved–a strange sight in Gary, Indiana.
I was squatting overnight in one of the buildings and woke up with the sunrise. This is what I woke up to.
Looking down Pommenicher Straße from Gaststätte Rosarius, the monstrous machine about to devour the town bites at the ground.
One thing that struck me as a midwesterner in the South was the vines. They seem to be able to completely cover a building when left alone for a few decades.
There were a few large houses on the Old Crow property where employees would live. The glen had little housing.
The vines are thick across the asylum.
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.
One of the storage bunkers was cracked open. I wonder how effective this heavy door would actually be… I expect, not very.
In this old repair shop, vines fall from the rotting roof to meet mossy concrete. Even though it had been dry for days, water dripped in from the roof to make permanent puddles between workstations. It was full of color and sound and industry and nature.
A typical hallway in the rocket assembly line.
An emergency slide to help workers evacuate the blending house in an emergency.
The back door into the old distillery building. Not castle-like at all, sadly.
The sun shining through one of the buildings; everything was overgrown.
A view of the Harris offices, complete with great block glass.
From the bottom of the skyway I looked back, my eyes tracing the vines from the marsh up the smokestacks to the perfect Midwestern sky.
Between all of the buildings was dense growth, especially vines.
North of the assembly complex is a storage network of earthen and concrete bunkers.