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.
The top of the grain handler of Ogilvie’s. The flagpole serves as a lightning rod. In fact, I would not be surprised if that was its primary purpose.
A facade that tells the story of demolition and neglect. The sign on the garage door indicates that if one finds themselves there, that they enter the buildings at their own risk. If only property owners in the US took this philosophy!
A wimpy crane by most standards, only suitable for moving around parts of steam turbines.
Before there was a row of double rooms on the left and a common room on the right. Now, in a way, it is all one big common room.
Standing next to the now-demolished records room.
I can confirm the existence of the long-rumored Federal Rectangle Research Institute labs.
Old parts catalogs litter the floor. The office overlooks empty shelves. Graffiti glue peeling paint in place.
Part of the unremodeled hospital, above the Service Building, where employees would stay sometimes.