Mitchell Avenue, the main drag of a ghost town. Traces of asphalt and curbs are barely visible through patches of grass. In the old plan of the town, Mitchell Hotel would be to my direct left in this scene, and about 10 houses would flank this street to the left and right.
Pipes to channel nitrose (think nitro glycerine) infused acid through the building.
Shadows of the rusty trestle and cold control towers on the Barker. Workers are preparing to swing over the sides of the boat to help secure her to the Minnesota Power dock.
The offices, cleared out pending fire inspection. Now it’s full of stuff again.
I liked the color of her hair against the rusty rock house and blue winter sky.
A taste of Superior culture.
A high-ceilinged room where kegs would be delivered for cleaning, before they were refilled with fresh booze.
A sign facing the city on an exterior wall–a sort of motivational poster.
The small door leads to the offices, the large door leads to the shop. My back at this time is to the corrugated steel wall. At the time I wondered why there was just one steel wall, not knowing that 40 years before there was another spot for an engine here. This section of the roundhouse has become a sort of town dump–car seats, cans of paint and tires are piled into its corners.