On the outside of the steel silos and headhouse is a riveted bulge that does not look like the silos. Inside is this elevator, a rudimentary (read: dangerous) and old (read: dangerous) freight elevator.
A damaged roof channeled rain onto the adobe walls, cutting them in half. In the distance, a preserved house and the ruins of the Colmor School.
In an era where smoking was ubiquitous and sexy, smoking stations had to be a part of the job, even at an explosives factory.
A tunnel between the outside gate and the courtyard shared by the barracks.
A mix of brick and stone construction where the stock house meets the cellars. The caves brought well water to the brewery and drained the refuse away, and the various sewer connections are visible here and tell the story of the company’s expansion above.
The meticulously tiled dry house shower floor–cracked by frost.
This volume gauge could be read from 30 feet away, which is useful when the control panels and valves are that far away.
Standing on a caustic tank with my head out a roof hatch, I look at the sign of the last brand to be produced here.
The tunnels were full of bricked-up doorways. I wonder how many rooms under there are totally sealed from the outside world…
A caustic tank in one of the unremodeled brewhouse backrooms.