The Engine House’s boiler, which would have been fired all day all day, virtually from the day the shop opened until the day it closed.
Work never done.
A wrecked pressure gauge and employee time cards.
Above the old machine shop is a packing building and a crate of cardboard label rolls.
These copulas made the iron for casting.
There big filters helped the mill sort through the flour, for additional milling, for example.
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.
In the grungy control room, I found a little slice that was never graffitied.
Looking across the catwalk behind the ore chutes, when they were up, and at the top of the ore chutes during loading.