I believe this is the push car, meaning it would push the charge in the oven out the opposite side into the train car.
These machines are at least 100 years old.
Looking up from the ground floor at the various levels of the sugar mill.
The surgical suite was flooding.
This wheel scoops the washings from the sluice room and places it on the tailings conveyor.
The generator room was state of the art when it was installed, allowing the complex to use motors and electric lighting ahead of its competitors.
Steel mine hoists, near the place they worked, wait for scrap prices to justify their final removal from Osceola, Michigan.
The top of the headframe, and in a sense, the mine itself. This pulley carried the life line of the mine and the men in it.
A screened water wheel, presumably for rotating the dredge once it lowered its “foot” to pivot in place.
A closeup of a soon-to-be-scrapped crane pulley.
The fantastic Art Deco portico over the main entrance to the concourse.
The winch that hauled the sea leg, a decide to unload grain from waiting boats and barges.
A staircase threads between the top floor and the sluices, which are in the middle of the dredge-mill.
Inside the pilot copper concentrator.
Note the wood and rubber wheels on this powder cart.
This steel cup on the card would move molten copper to the caster from the furnace.
Under the monster and its teeth.
A closeup inside the mill’s power room.
An impressive message for graffiti in a Detroit warehouse, but then again look at these steam pumps. Over-built and under-appreciated.
A one-of-a-kind installation in Armour’s otherwise gutted engine house.
From the catwalks below the hoisting motor in Shaft No. 1.
Tucked-into the side of the concentration mill… these machines were meant to crush underground rock into a fine dust for mineral extraction.
These steam powered pumps were integral to the cooling of the meat packing plant next door.
Note the tiled floor between the bucket conveyors and an old mill.
Looking through the center of a scrapped generator, its copper long scrapped.
Bits and things in a pile in the corner of the smelter, the unsold chunks of industrial history that didn’t sell at an on-site auction before my visit.