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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Through a section of the tailings boom where mountain winds tore open the sheet metal around the conveyor, I poked my head out.
The back of the neon sign before it was converted to LED lighting. The image is mirrored so it can be read.
In the basement were all the valves to control the flow of municipal steam through the building. This hasty hand letting was beside one such valve, near a carved brick with a name and ‘1934’ under it.
Judging by the bed, this room was used by employees in its later years.
Looking into the half-demolished, half-dismantled conveyor for the sea leg.
Watching the comings and goings of doctors, nurses and new patients was a mainstay of asylum routine; one can find it easy to imagine pale faces pressed against the block glass windows, staring out at the world moving past them.
Paint lines were constantly monitored through big windows. Adjustments could be made on the dedicated consoles. This is what most of the painting floor looked like.
Elevator B, used by a local farmer, stands behind an old farm truck at the edge of town.