A warning sticker on the interior of a dredge once tied to the old dock.
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An old name for an older elevator, as seen from an abandoned rail spur.
The back door into the old distillery building. Not castle-like at all, sadly.
Before developers saw to cut and cut the flour mills inside Pillsbury, they stood at the ready beside various purposeful chutes the traversed the floors of between sorters. These machines were belt-driven by the power of Pillsbury’s Mississippi headraces and turbines, the force of which notoriously shook the building’s foundations themselves. The wheels would change the grade of the flour, or the size of the dust produced from crushing the kernels.
An exit from the concourse.
When ‘men’ meant ‘worker’.
Can you imagine workers in a food plant smoking on the job today?
A sign in the desolate cafeteria.
Carter Color used to occupy this block.
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.