In front of a rust-welded Illinois rotary stoker is where the boiler-men made their mark. The last year I can make out is 1985.
The chalkboard in the filtering plant reminds new visitors of the last day.
A wimpy crane by most standards, only suitable for moving around parts of steam turbines.
#67, one of the only lockers that is not crunched to the point it refuses to open. In the corner of the small office area.
Looking down Pommenicher Straße from Gaststätte Rosarius, the monstrous machine about to devour the town bites at the ground.
The individual ovens are skinny to allow even and fast heating of the whole interior. Numbers are cut into signs because no paint could withstand the heat or corrosive emissions from the coking process.
A big sign marks where the elevated walkway is severed where Dock 2 used to meet Dock 3, now gone.
Off the beaten path is this old LTV sign. Now it points to a ghost town and dead dock.
The last wooden school chair survives—almost intact—by being jammed between a pipe and the ceiling of the boiler room.