Lunchroom

A splash of pink across an otherwise boring sign caught my eye in the old elevator.

Superior Street, as seen from the roof of the Temple Opera Block. Below is one of the sealed sidewalk elevator hatches.

The most derelict of the old bonded warehouses. Note the barrel elevator on the side of it!

I assume this sign used to sit near the highway that snakes around the mine and town.

This side of the mill, which abuts the Great Miami River, is much older than the other side of B Street. You can tell it went through many revisions.

In case one forgot… mounted behind the appropriate valves. Who hasn’t memorized the appropriate valve positions?

Fluorescent lights peel back from the walls like caterpillars, rearing up and away from the glare of the sunflower-fans.

Why the elevator cars were removed or who removed them is unclear to me, but I do hope they still exist somewhere outside of a Honda frame. Judging from the decorations heaped on the doors and their frames, the cars themselves must have been beautiful.

Before developers saw to cut and cut the flour mills inside Pillsbury, they stood at the ready beside various purposeful chutes the traversed the floors of between sorters. These machines were belt-driven by the power of Pillsbury’s Mississippi headraces and turbines, the force of which notoriously shook the building’s foundations themselves. The wheels would change the grade of the flour, or the size of the dust produced from crushing the kernels.