Looking through the an access panel at the hoist room for Shaft No. 3. The cable had long ago been scrapped, along with the motors to drive the pulleys. I still admire the workmanship on the spool’s arching metal shell.
Sunrise in the orphanage… between classrooms and whispers.
Much of the milling equipment predated the mill itself, so I would not be surprised if this particular machine really dates to 1860.
A 8-foot-tall volume indicator that could be read from across the beet boiler floor–convenient when the controls are 20 feet away.
A broken window looking through the First Aid Room and into the Control Room in charge of directing grain into ships. You can see one of the large conveyors on the right, clad in green. Chutes and staircases intertwine seemingly randomly through the big empty spaces.
I had to climb into the roof of the half-demolished skyway to see through to the other side of the train shed. That’s my foot in the corner.
The side of King that faces the lake is stained yellow-green.
After climbing the elevator shaft to the illusive second level, a new pallet of colors were revealed.
The Peavey logo, before it rusted off and the offices were demolished.
The building on the right was where parts not assembled onto vehicles would be set in crates for shipment.