Cauterized wounds on the factory floor, where the middle of the newer mill opens up to allow massive equipment. Now the pipes are cut and the equipment is gone.
Looking into one of the fire slides, designed to evacuate patients extremely quickly. In 1880, a fire completely destroyed the asylum at St. Peter, Minnesota, killing 30 patients.
At sunrise the fog rose near the solvent recovery line. You can barely read the “XXX” warning.
The scale of the grain hoppers helps tell the story of how large Hamm’s was in its day.
The ice reflects the blue sky on the rust. The sunset blasts through the concrete pillars holding it all up.
Cracked gauges have a certain quality that hearkens to movies, I think. One can imagine the gauges going off the scales before dramatically cracking, throwing glass right at the camera. This damage, however, is unfortunate vandalism.
When the building switched souls from booze to bread, these contraptions were mounted across the brewhouse floors… they’re not for hops, either.
This mean-looking thing had a purpose, probably, but that function has been lost to decades of expansion.
Beside the half-demolished Thunder Bay Elevator shops and offices (brick building) are some rusting fishing boats. A little bit of SWP #7 is seen in the upper right.