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.
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A cracked sign at dock-level, where loading boats would be tied below the taconite conveyors. All across the surface of the concrete dock were taconite pellets, like slippery little marbles. One wrong step could put a worker in the water, which is a bad, bad place to be.
It’s like a piece of paper that’s been written on and rewritten, until you can’t read what the original message was.
A bumper sticker with the usual tagline. Note the detail on the radiator!
Looking up from the industrial courtyard.
Kodak Tri-X 400, Leica M7. Serious enough to write across the side of the tank, but not serious enough to have a sign made.
This building had no identity issues. My chief regret was not spending more time documenting the ghost signs around the complex.
Inside the main entrance to the depot. Through the ‘To Station’ door, you can see some of the news stands. Look at the floor!
The whole smelter ran on gravity… elevating the various raw materials and working with them until at the bottom of the furnace, copper poured out.
“The fresh snow mixed indistinguishably from the ashes of the half-demolished power plant.”