“It’s just across the parking lot,” the kids might say, “Let’s GO!” Into the dark/into the damp/into old Mather Mine.
During the Cold War, the Twin Cities were protected by a ring of defensive nuclear missile bases. By 1972, they had all been closed and their stories began to diverge.
Nebraska was never so sweet as when these sugar mills were shipping 3,000 bags of sugar daily. Now they’re abandoned. Let’s see what’s left.
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.
I take a below-freezing tour of a rail yard power station that dates back to 1924, a double-stacker that stands out in a small town.
“Sunlight scorched what man could not, / Deep where tunnels met. / Though mine they could, / With steel and wood, / And those men that bled.” A poetic homage to an abandoned copper mine.
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.
The picture from 1919 says it all; when an F5 tornado rages through the town leveling everything around it, this flour mill stands, anchored to the river, indomitable.
Miners and their bosses watched helplessly as the mine flooded with water over and over again. When all was said and done, they had probably mined more quicksand than iron. Rogers Mine was started in 1910 but was allowed to flood in 1937, though its shops were used well into the 1950s.