UPDATE: 1/3 of this elevator system burned down on Dec. 17th, 2018. Telegram WDIO DNT

One of the Last Wooden Elevators

The first carload of grain was loaded into Elevator #1 on October 3rd, 1887. Its neighboring elevator (#2) was still under construction, the on-site sawmill still cutting the raw lumber trained-in from the shores of the Pokegama River. This was a wooden grain elevator—common then, extremely rare now.

When all the old growth wood was sawn, there were four interconnected buildings on the long slip in Superior, Wisconsin projecting into Lake Superior’s natural harbor. Between 2000 and 3000 men worked two years on the strip of land to make what was then the largest terminal elevator in the world.

At the top of the elevator was a distribution room to direct the grain onto conveyor belts below.

The elevator works on gravity… this is where a conveyor belt was to move the grain toward the main elevator to be loaded into ships.

If you were on the top floor of one of the buildings looking down from one of the many narrow timber walkways between belted pulleys, you would look down into empty vertical chambers where the grain would be dumped. There were 289 of these grain compartments, or ‘bins’, at Globe, originally just called the Sawyer System for the company’s president.

Sawyer System in action aside Globe. Globe from the side of Great Northern. Sawyer Unloader (Gallagher, Duluth Public Library)

From the slip where grain boats would tie for loading and unloading, the unloader juts in a modernist-architectural way that is oddly visibly satisfying. Inside that white building is the retracted boat unloader, more or less a long and sturdy conveyor attached to a joint and crane motor. There used to be four loaders that looked like simple tubes with cranes and ropes attached hanging from this side of the elevator. All that remains of those is one fixture on the white building (not visible here) and the frame of one on the elevator proper, visible in the upper-middle of this image, to the right of the unloader apparatus.

This sea leg was installed to unload grain boats. It’s pretty much a big bucket elevator that can be moved and lowered into waiting boats.

The Sawyer System was one of the first to tie-in all of its buildings at the time of construction; the norm at the time was to build an elevator until demand called for another, then expansion would come later with possible interconnections, often with skyways or tunnels. The name of the elevator was soon formalized as the Duluth Elevator Company—a moniker that still brands the side of Elevator #2.

Sitting on the board of Duluth Elevator Company was F.H. Peavey, a name that would later become synonymous with Midwest grain.

The reason why so few of these wooden grain elevators survive is their particular flammability. Grain dust is extremely flammable, even explosive at certain concentrations while suspended in air. That coupled with the technology of steam engines powered by spark-prone coal and hot-running friction pulleys destroyed entire districts of mills and elevators.

Jet Lowe, 1997, HAER WI-107-B-1, Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division

The same view in 2007. Superior, WI, some have said, is a suburb of Duluth, MN. It’s more like a sub-suburb, I would argue. It’s the industrial district that is technically in another state, one that sells beer on Sundays. Perspective is looking out of the mostly-disassembled larger (newer) elevator.

Globe escaped one massive grain-fuel inferno in 1907 that destroyed the many flour mills along Tower Avenue as well as the neighboring Great Northern Elevator ‘A’. Its good luck continued when the ancestor of Great Northern ‘A’ burned as well in 1941. Ironically, the elevator closed that year due to economic forces instead.

When ConAgra-Peavey returned to the area in the early 1980s, however, they looked back to Globe to find a foothold in booming market. The homecoming was short lived, however, as the mega-corporation moved across town near where Fraser Shipyards are today into the Continental Elevator in 1988.

They left Globe behind.

Now the Globe Elevators are being slowly demolished by disassembly as a company takes apart the facility board by board to sell its antique wood. As sad as it is to see this rare building disappear, the only surviving elevator in the area built before 1900, I am glad it is being reused and respected.

2013 Update: Beginning in January 2013, Globe’s demolition was featured History Channel.

If there was a problem with the conveyor belt, the grain would go out these chutes.

The elevator works on gravity… this is where a conveyor belt was to move the grain toward the main elevator to be loaded into ships.

A broken-down wooden grain chute.

An old name for an older elevator, as seen from an abandoned rail spur.

Behind the barge unloader (a Webster for those grain tech nerds out here) that used to extract grain from docked boats. The ladders are fun to climb, even though they get warped and wavy in places. High in the elevator would have been a crane engine that would lift the unloader, packed with a bucket conveyor, while workers would manipulate the direction of the spout with ropes manually. The buckets would rotate, scraping and elevating the grain into the silos above. It’s a rare piece of equipment for the Great Lakes.

The layout of the bins in an elevator office.

The old gate sign, leaned against one of the terminal elevators.

The corner of the elevator… lumber armored with steel for fireproofing and water resistance.

In what used to be a hallway under what used to be a skyway, each with what had conveyor belts for the grain that once was stored here. The fog doesn’t change.

The side of the main elevator, severed by “Woodchucks”.

The old No Trespassing sign, with the Peavey logo still on it.

From the slip where grain boats would tie for loading and unloading, the unloader juts in a modernist-architectural way that is oddly visibly satisfying. Inside that white building is the retracted boat unloader, more or less a long and sturdy conveyor attached to a joint and crane motor. There used to be four loaders that looked like simple tubes with cranes and ropes attached hanging from this side of the elevator. All that remains of those is one fixture on the white building (not visible here) and the frame of one on the elevator proper, visible in the upper-middle of this image, to the right of the unloader apparatus.

The Peavey logo, before it rusted off and the offices were demolished.

In the modern control room at the base of the white elevator tower are the electronics that ran the newer building, its rail components and boat-loading component. The superstructure permeates all spaces here, as can be seen with the crossing I-beams in the main office.

This was not always the top of the elevator.

A photo from the early 2000s before the conveyors were scrapped.

S&X seen in the background through the fog.

Every timber pillar was numbered for maintenance purposes.

That floor isn’t dirt–it’s old rotting grain that’s formed into a sort of moldy mud.

This sign was important when trains ran the length of the elevator.

Beautiful belt wheels above the grain cribs. Getting to the spot where this was taken is now impossible, and I don’t know whether these remain or not anymore.

These ceramic bricks were likely from the fireproof tunnel that connected the elevators.

Between elevators, a single tree has taken root. I think it’s growing out of a rail grade, so the seed might have fallen off of a train.

For some time, tugboats were stored next to the elevator.

This sea leg was installed to unload grain boats. It’s pretty much a big bucket elevator that can be moved and lowered into waiting boats.

Mounted in an office.

Part of the grain dust venting system, dislodged from its place above the dumping hatches under the grain cribs.

At the top of the elevator was a distribution room to direct the grain onto conveyor belts below.

The steel sea leg is so heavy it requires a huge counterweight that travels the height of the elevator.

The same view in 2007. Superior, WI, some have said, is a suburb of Duluth, MN. It’s more like a sub-suburb, I would argue. It’s the industrial district that is technically in another state, one that sells beer on Sundays. Perspective is looking out of the mostly-disassembled larger (newer) elevator.

Looking across at the Cargill elevator.

Thanks to the demolition (I’ll never say that again), the inner structure of the bins are revealed. So much wood!

Looking out of the top of the grain tower at Duluth.