The Temple Opera Block and NorShor Theatre were the center of social life in Duluth for a lifetime, before the Block was decapitated and the theatre was abandoned.
Between 1904 and 1996, Norwich State Hospital was home to some of Connecticut’s most difficult mental cases.
People live on top of it now, ever since the Francis Hotel was turned into apartments. There’s a chunk of the building that nobody can get into though, and it has been that way for a while. St. Paul’s lost stage.
A private tuberculosis hospital outside the Twin Cities, preserved through reuse, resilient despite neglect.
Sentinel grain elevators watch over the Manitoba prairie: its ghost towns, its defunct flour mills, and its endless fields.
Serving those who were turned away because of race and income, training generations of nurses, and now collapsing into the streets of St. Louis out of neglect. Now that raindrops freefall from the clouds above to the basements in the shadows without touching a floor, wall, bed or desk, it’s clear that this city lost an opportunity and a landmark.
North Dakota’s only public tuberculosis sanatorium served from 1912 to 1987. Since then it’s served thousands, but now it’s under demolition by neglect. What is that barbed wire hiding, anyway?
Brown coal is plentiful in central Germany, but it lies under its farms, towns, and people. By the time you read this article, the town I took pictures of will be part of a mine pit.
Eliot warned about cities built on the ruins of other cities–maybe the same rule goes for theaters. Never forget: location, location, location.
Mother Nature refused to give up her gold in the San Juans to the men of Treasure Mountain without a fight. Now, after a century of hard rock mining in its steep gulches, she cannot let go of the long abandoned mines or its ghost towns.
It was a hospital, not an insane asylum, they insisted. Starting in 1885, this Westborough mental institution was both and housed thousands at a time.