The roof had structures bigger than most buildings in South Bend.
A ruined platform on the railyard platform side of the warehouse.
One thing that struck me as a midwesterner in the South was the vines. They seem to be able to completely cover a building when left alone for a few decades.
The power plant of the Old Crow distillery was mostly original. I didn’t have a tripod, so I had to balance my camera on the equipment there.
Lost words over the auditorium entrance.
Thousands of tags in a supply closet. Each has lots its meaning.
Only two machines sit on the rails in the roundhouse, both oil cars. It’s not clear whether there’s anything inside either, but they have to have been placed here before 1970, when the turntable outside these numbered doors was removed.
Blending the explosive ingredients was dangerous. It is no wonder that the blending house had so many emergency slides.
A cracked sign at dock-level, where loading boats would be tied below the taconite conveyors. All across the surface of the concrete dock were taconite pellets, like slippery little marbles. One wrong step could put a worker in the water, which is a bad, bad place to be.