In the ward for the criminally insane, this door was the most-worn. Nail scratches mark the area around the peep hole, the wood is gouged everywhere from thrown chairs and hard kicks, and a ominous blood-colored stain is visible where it dripped in the second inset from the bottom. Aside from the damage, the coloring in this section was very vibrant, though it was probably little reprieve for those who had to work here.
A little catwalk gives access to the most important gauges in the building. Behind them are huge vents and fans. I bet it got steamy in here.
A detailed look at the side of one of the thousands of transformer boxes in the war city.
A sign on the corner of a laboratory remembers.
The wings of the church had a lot more water damage than the rest. The organ on the balcony was in decent condition when I arrived.
Records of ore samples, mostly ruined by the water flowing into the space.
In this photo you see three lives of Lyric: 1.) The Art Deco murals showing the Vaudeville background; 2.) The suspended ceiling put in when the building was converted for film; 3.) The explorers, photographers and others who worked in and on the building before its final demolition.
Paperwork in the control room, dated 1958.
My favorite of the turtles in the basement mural. Mr. Fade Out.