We mark our world in unexpected ways… this is how patient possessions would be stored during their stay in the old asylum wards. It’s about the size of a shoebox, and this particular drawer has a name where the others do not. Its place reminded me of the hospital cemetery where more than 3,000 are buried and less than 1% of whom are recorded by stone or plaque in their resting place.
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.
Spare parts ready for this building’s reactivation.
The workshop sat below the main working floor and had serious power going to it.
Above the old machine shop is a packing building and a crate of cardboard label rolls.
This door led to a now-demolished skyway crossing Minnehaha Ave connecting the brewhouse to Fermentation, also demolished.
Standing where Globe (later, Whitney Bros) Shipyards one did, and observing the red-to-yellow brickwork transition. Like a mullet, it’s all business in the front.
On the second floor of the former carpentry shop, originally the delivery wagon shed.
Far above the areas that were heavily scrapped, I found some old bottles to collect samples of the sour mash whiskey as it made its was from the distillation room to barrel filling.