The holes were for men to poke reluctant ore with long poles, with the hope that a lucky jab would let the load slide down into the boat below. Now they’re just traps.
This room’s trim was unlike the others. Perhaps it was for a live in supervisor.
Looking from the rail shipping building through pigeon-proofing chicken wire at another manufacturing building in high Fall.
In the grungy control room, I found a little slice that was never graffitied.
The historical entrance.
Detail view of one of the fermenting tanks, still set-up for the distillery tours that no doubt took place when there last were such things. Nevertheless, the capacity of this tank multiplied across these all over the distillery floor really shows the power this company once had.
The chapel (left) and surgical suite (straight on) move in an out of view as fog rolls up from the St. Louis River valley.
Pillsbury from across the Mississippi River and Stone Arch Bridge from the roof of the Washburn Crosby Elevator (aka Gold Medal Flour).
A crack in a window in a wall. What’s this doing here?