Windows provided the 250-some workers with fresh air and light, and helped to keep flour dust from building up in the air, helping to prevent explosions. Today, machines control air flow better without windows, so they were bricked.
Pillars painted red indicated firefighting supplies. Fire was a very common enemy of early rail facilities, and many roundhouses burned down because of a combination of dry wood, hot, fire-breathing machinery and countless oil-saturated surfaces.
Chester Creek’s lower sections change, demarking decades of change for Superior Street.
Giant ingredient hoppers stand on a concrete floor covered in peeled paint.
The north side of the plant is modern 60s industrial architecture, meaning massive open spaces with no personality. This mirror is the most interesting thing I could find.
This wide skyway connected two of the inner factory buildings, where parts would have to be transported to keep the operation moving, which is why it is much wider than other bridges in the plant.
A leftover swatch remembers the last fabric sewn here.
One of the large barracks. All of them are overgrown like this.
One of the hundreds of wells across the depot, as seen through an open rail door. In the distance, the radome.
Looking through the old brewhouse toward the Keg Wash House.