In the bottom of a creek, an antique children’s wheelchair is buried in grass, where someone threw it. Wooden leg braces suggest this dates to the 1950s.
A few of the stalls in the older section of the roundhouse, the noon sky peeking in.
Even in monochrome, you can probably tell what colors were over Hastings that evening: Red, White, and Blue.
Beautiful belt wheels above the grain cribs. Getting to the spot where this was taken is now impossible, and I don’t know whether these remain or not anymore.
Between the catwalks of Furnace 6, the molted ore would flow through the chute.
The chapel (left) and surgical suite (straight on) move in an out of view as fog rolls up from the St. Louis River valley.
Scanned after being recovered from the bottom of an old wooden box for a few years. Circa 2005.
Two of the remaining four towers in the projects. Throughout our time there we saw and heard squatters inside and chose not to go in. What do you call a smart choice made in the midst of a dumb choice? There should be a word for that.
A heavy steel rail door to help funnel explosions upward, rather than outward.