Looking down the kiln line from atop the furnaces.
When a big motor rusted free of its ceiling mount, it smashed onto this workbench.
Ringling’s church was built in 1914 and sits on a hill over the town.
The fences helped discourage patients from throwing themselves down the stairs.
Miners at the turn of the century had better taste in typography than the average person does today.
While walking out I snapped this last shot of the sunset drenching the castle-top watertower (staying with the theme), right before the sun dipped below the hill across the stream from which the whiskey was distilled.
A reminder to the manlift riders to get off the belt before they hit their heads on the ceiling. This is the top level of the headhouse, where dust collectors would extract most of the grain bits from the air to reduce risk of explosion.
Lit by the glow of St. Paul’s West Seventh bars, highlighted by the cool blue of the sleepy section of South Side. This castle-like tower can be seen for miles around town; a Landmark at the brewery that brewed a brew by the that name.
From an unsteady perch atop the blast furnace, the morning light began to leach into the complex below.