What looks to be a skip for repairing the dock, in the concrete steeple.
One thing I like about the oppressive globalist-wrought future is the idea of numerically subdividing spaces; my geek side sort of wants to live in a flat that can be sorted by as Dewey Decimal-like code.
Standing where Globe (later, Whitney Bros) Shipyards one did, and observing the red-to-yellow brickwork transition. Like a mullet, it’s all business in the front.
The nitrating house was a chemically dangerous place, so it had thick metal and concrete shield for every station right next to an emergency shower.
A social club/restaurant that was likely the place to be late at night.
Hales & Hunter sign, as it looks today.
The sterile room where yeast was grown for the fermentation process. Thanks much, my little alcohol-excreting buddies.
Funny how sensitive modern English speakers have become to gendered language. I doubt the workers here–almost all female–were offended by this posting for ‘Workmen’s Compensation’.
Part of an ongoing series on found American flags in shuttered factories.