“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.” ― Emily Dickinson
Kurth bears a ghost sign. Recently, its main sign was destroyed by graffiti artists in 2015.
The balcony used to be beautiful, you say. I say, it still is.
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.
Ruined cars abandoned in the generator hall, long after its namesake was scrapped.
The end of the new elevator. Line of bird droppings follow the fire sprinkler pipes and wires in the room.
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.
The light next to this acid tank was perfect, thanks to a gaping hole in the roof.
I revisited the mill years after my documentary. Now it is even more destroyed and surrounded by new fences.