Scrappers tried to take this steel pulley out of Fisher, but it proved too heavy.
The long control room overlooks giant caps where equipment was removed long ago.
Robotic pincers to move molten rods of glass between machines.
The old men’s ward is an example of what the hospital resembled before part of the complex was modernized. Small rooms, light switches outside the door, small observation windows set into heavy wood. If you ask me, though, the tile work across the floors is the most spectacular.
The last wooden school chair survives—almost intact—by being jammed between a pipe and the ceiling of the boiler room.
One of the only extant assembly line tracks in the body painting department. No photographer leaves Fisher 21 without capturing some version of this spot; hope you like mine.
A scrapped steam turbine, perhaps. In the background you can see a gutted casing for another turbine.
The roof had structures bigger than most buildings in South Bend.
Windows provided the 250-some workers with fresh air and light, and helped to keep flour dust from building up in the air, helping to prevent explosions. Today, machines control air flow better without windows, so they were bricked.