The shaft house, where hydraulic steel doors allowed or denied entry into the mine shaft. Overhead is a light and alarm. If it sounds, the mine is being evacuated, and you best not go in and best stay the hell out of the way. Locals dump tires here, now.
Indianapolis’ beautiful downtown is in the distance, past the gas storage tank.
Although most of the buildings were open and empty, a few carried signs.
The old way to get to the elevator from the mill.
A shuttered house at the end of the block doesn’t even have boards on it anymore.
The pipes above sprayed water onto the hot coke.
Some local kids were having a fire extinguisher fight when I walked into the lab one day.
The old hotel doesn’t like to show its age. Indeed, if it had a few paint job and soft remodel it would be fit to open–that is, if there was a need for it in this tiny rural New York town.
These aluminum powder kegs were forgotten in storage.