In the mine offices, hooks and a board with numbers was the system to keep track of who was in the mine and who was safe.
I am not sure, but I think this section was a storehouse; it has two ramps that connect the rail yard outside and the blacksmith shop. On all of the historic doors that face that part of the yard, signs caution workers to look out for cars…
The roof had structures bigger than most buildings in South Bend.
The Sun Rooms, or Common Rooms, reminded me of the Panopitcon turned inside-out.
One boat comes into port while three wait. The birds, fat from spilled grain, circle overhead. Arista 100.
Imagine the voice of an entitled White suburban mother. She’s now talking about oral hygiene in the “urban” (Black) schools.
A look straight down into the chutes were taconite pellets would dump into the dock hoppers. Rebar was a safety measure to keep workers from being buried alive, were they to slip into the holes.
The top floor’s old-fashioned hospital ways were too much to pass without a photo or two… with the paint falling off the walls it was as if the building was shedding its skin in an effort to become rejuvenated or useful.
The playground used to be near the school which is now in ruins.