The Cement Skeleton

Late last summer, I was driving to meet a client when I happened to look out the window and see the towering silos of an abandoned factory. Nothing fancy. I came home, looked up the location on a map, told Matt I had found a cool old building. Life went on.

A year went by, and I started thinking about that factory again. Was it still standing? Did they demo it?

Research told me it did seem to be falling victim to a very slow and random demolition process. Before the demo teams or vandals could do any worse, I decided I wanted to go see it.

Until its abandonment in 1981, this plant produced upwards of 2,750 barrels of mortar, cement, and fast-setting cement per day. Economic trouble saw to its decline, as is the case for many places like this. It has sat unused for over thirty years.

Buildings that have sat this long are usually in pretty rough shape. Apart from major structural damage, vandals have also gone nuts here. They’ve had three decades to do so.

There was a 20mph wind that day. It made what would have otherwise been a pleasant afternoon cold and difficult. Several inches of dust, debris, sediment, and God knows what else have accumulated on every surface, and we kept having to duck our heads to protect our eyes from it all blowing around. We also didn’t wear respirators, which was a bad idea, because I started having trouble breathing by the second building. We both had bad coughs for several days afterward.

Toward the back of the property, we started hearing loud, repeated banging. For a moment, we panicked we had stumbled upon a demo crew. We peeked around a column to find a tall, narrow building full of electrical housing losing its battle to the extreme wind. An enormous sheet of corrugated metal had come loose from the siding about ten feet up. It was dangling by what fraction of it hadn’t rusted away yet, and was catching the wind like a giant sail. It would fly up, then slam back against the building so hard the ground was shaking. It was right over the door, of course…so I had to find a different way in.

Once I knew what the sound was, oddly enough, I sort of enjoyed it. This place was so loud, creaking and banging in the wind, almost mimicking the sounds of the factory while it was active. It was like a soundtrack.

I’ve lovingly referred to this place as the industrial playground. A giant jungle gym full of stuff to climb, crawl through, and step over. That said, being careful here is not optional. A lot of not-so-bright kids have gotten seriously hurt here screwing around. There are huge holes in the floors, pits, sudden drops off ledges, rusted out stairs, elevator shafts, and machinery dangling from the ceiling. There’s no room for stupidity.

I later discovered that some established wedding industry professionals have shot clients here in recent years. I’ll refrain from sharing my two cents, but I bet you could guess what I’d have to say about that.

The industrial textures here are beautiful, despite the damage and vandalism.

Let’s talk about the staircase. We’re mostly through this post now, and I haven’t mentioned the staircase. Listen. I love this staircase. Wedged into a dim corner of the main building was the largest spiral staircase I’ve ever seen. An organic shape amid a sea of right angles. I stood at the bottom and looked up. Its steely frame spiraled on and on farther than my line of vision could follow, up several stories through a very dark, very narrow stairwell. An absolute nightmare for someone with a fear of heights, tight spaces, or the dark.

Luckily, I have none of those. So up I went.

I started my climb, telling Matt to wait until I made it to the next floor. “I’ll let you know if it’s safe,” I said.

“How are you planning on letting me know if it’s NOT safe?” he asked. “Death?”

The climb and stairs were safe, though dizzying and disorienting. It took us to all the upper floors, right up to the top of the silos. The view was beautiful.

Back on the ground floor, surrounded by literal rubble, we found some paperwork dated from the 1970s.

We finished up in what I think was once a locker or wash room. In person, the peeling green paint is especially striking. It would be prettier without the graffiti.

I don’t know how much longer this place will be around. But this dangerous mess of a factory has a special place in my heart now. I’m glad I went to see it. ‘Til later.