The turbine hall, without turbines. I guess that makes this a hall… at least it has a clock.
The ice reflects the blue sky on the rust. The sunset blasts through the concrete pillars holding it all up.
All of the fire alarms had been triggered.
To make sure the tourists aren’t scared off, the city painted the side of the elevator with one of its historic names.
The winch that hauled the sea leg, a decide to unload grain from waiting boats and barges.
The only way to get to the second floor–since demolition crews punched-out the staircases and ladders leading upwards–was to climb this elevator shaft. In the lower-left corner is a blower for the foundry furnaces.
It’s a mystery to me why this elevator has a Gold Medal Flour ghost sign. You can read it along with its obsolete monikers today.