Abandoned Trailer Farm

The first time I came across this trailer in Baraboo, Wisconsin I learned a valuable lesson. Always, always, always check your camera batteries before leaving the house. The battery in my main camera was completely dead on arrival. To make matters worse, my trusty backup camera was also toast. I had to settle with shooting with the iPhone 3G’s s*** camera the first time. I invested in a car charger for my camera batteries after that horrible experience.

Two months later I returned to the trailer and it had deteriorated rapidly. The cold Wisconsin snow had widened the gaping ceiling hole in the kitchen. The nails that held the front door to the frame had lost their grip, exposing the dining and kitchen room to the deep nightly cold. The woodwork had absorbed much of the moisture from the brief thaw from the days prior. Black mold had begun to overtake the white kitchen lining. Everything of interest that I wanted to photograph from my first trip was where I had left it.

The family that lived in this two bedroom trailer must have been able to speak multiple languages. An edition of the Chicago Tribune on the dining room table from the late 1970’s mentions the new Star Wars movie. In one of the cupboards sat German literature. Pieces of paper with an eastern European language were also among the debris.

Translation:

Hearts of Children
Four Stories from M. Lenk
Second Edition
Zwickau i.S.
Print(ed) and Publish(ed) by Johannes Herrmann

Als ich dieses Buch in meiner gefrören Hand gehalten habe, habe ich an Wisconsins Geschichte gedacht. Die deutschen Siedler dieses Staates waren sehr wichtig. Die Bauer und die Brauer haben Wisconsin als den sogennanten “Dairy State” gegründet. Einmal in Wisconsin war es normal Deutsch zu sprechen, lesen, und schreiben. Aber das ist nicht mehr den Fall.

(Feel free help me improve my German in the comments.)

As I held this book in my frozen Hand, I thought about Wisconsin’s history. The German settlers of this state were very important. The farmers and brewers laid the foundation for Wisconsin to be called the “Dairy State.” It was normal once in Wisconsin to speak, read, and write in German. Due to the course of history, American speakers of German began avoiding using the language in everyday use in the mid-1900’s. It is a shame really, because Wisconsin still retains much of its rich German cultural heritage.

Cormac McCarthy – The Road

From title page to last sentence there is sparse joy in Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Road. Yet the few and far between moments of tenderness alone make the book a worthwhile read. McCarthy paints an engrossing world of pitch-black darkness, bone-chilling cold, and utter despair that has been rocked by some indescribable cataclysm. The unnamed main characters – the man and the boy – are making their way south on the road in the hopes of escaping the darkness that has swallowed society whole. As they travel the road the pair must scavenge for supplies in a landscape already torn asunder. Food stores have long been consumed and some have turned to cannibalism. The man and boy must remain ever vigilant as they traverse the ashen road, for they are “the good guys” in a world full of horror.

The scenes portrayed in The Road are not uncommon for experienced urban explorers. McCarthy is extremely adept at painting with adjectives to give the reader a frame of reference. (It was quite refreshing to read a book too, that I had to look up words I did not know the meaning of.) Urban explorers with be familiar with the themes of death, decay, and the fragility of human existence that are portrayed in The Road.

The Road is one of the best books I’ve ever read, and one of the few that have brought me to tears. I never want to read it again, but the ending is phenomenal. Urban explorers won’t be disappointed.

Dangerous

Just a friendly reminder that Urban Exploration is dangerous and can get you killed. Take a few minutes and consider the risks. How are you going to survive should the worst happen? What little steps can you take to prevent a huge disaster? How prepared are you for Urban Exploration?

Urbex in Your Backyard

Getting a start in urbex can be as easy as looking around your own hometown. As a kid I grew up in Green Bay, Wisconsin. It wasn’t until I moved out in college that I began to appreciate all the unique history the city had to offer. (No, I don’t care about the historical Green Bay Packers.) Green Bay is host to one of only two vintage McDonald’s neon signs of its kind nationwide. In high school I used to come here for lunch with my friends. Although I’ve developed quite a distaste for their food, I do find this neon sign to be quite beautiful. I’m glad that the franchise owner has decided to maintain it.

Armour Meat Processing Plant

In American public schools Henry Ford gets credited with inventing the assembly line. He’s touted as an American hero for figuring out that dividing labor into small specialized tasks could maximize output and drive down production cost. If you believe this story, you are complicit with the oversimplification of American history. By his own words, Henry Ford cites the meat packing industry in his autobiography My Life and Work for giving him inspiration to work with an assembly line.

Photo: On the main floor of the plant.

The truth of the matter is that the meat packing industry beat Ford to the assembly line punch. Philip Danforth Armour had every bit of meat processing down to a science. Armour’s competitive edge over other meat packers was to use ever bit of the animal “except the squeal.” The Armour product catalog included not just meat, but also adhesives, fertilizer, drugs, industrial chemicals and even Dial soap.

Photo: Source – Wikipedia

When Armour and Company were founded in 1867, refrigerators did not exist. Meat had to be processed by a local butcher, sold, and consumed in a relatively short amount of time. One of the largest costs associated with meat packing was shipping the animal live via rail to the location it would be slaughtered. The rail lines of the time made massive profits shipping cattle as railways expanded westward towards California. Armour saw an opportunity in this vastly inefficient system. Adapting one of his chief competitor’s ideas to refrigerate meat, Armour built their own fleet of refrigerated boxcars to ship processed meat all across the country. Armour had 12,000 refrigerated boxcars in operation at its peak. This innovation had a cascade of benefits for the consumer. Not only could meat be purchased cheaper, but could also be kept fresh for longer periods. Other food companies quickly adopted refrigeration and raised food quality standards nationwide.

Photo: One of the massive refrigeration generators still at the Armour plant.

Photo: Wheel on one of the refrigerator generators. Notice the intricate lattice work painted on. How many heavy industrial machines still have that personalized level of detail?

The Armour Packing Plant is a massive industrial complex surrounded by dense vegetation just to the north of East St. Louis, Illinois in what is known as National City. Getting into the location is fairly easy, though you MUST bring a partner with you. There are many holes and rickety steel platforms on the first floor that can lead to a nasty fall. Getting up to the higher floors is a bit tricky. The main stairwell for one side of the plant is missing the first few steps and has a nice twenty foot drop to the basement. Again, bring a partner. If it wasn’t for my urbex safety buddy I would have never been talked into actually making the climb.

Photo: Slaughtering room lined by tile. Moss now grows over most of the floor.

There are rail lines on each side of the factory. On the back side is a complex to remove cattle from boxcars as they arrived. The cattle were moved to the slaughtering room on the top floor pictured above. From this point the carcasses were stripped of flesh, cut into pieces, and sent to specialized rooms. There is an intricate series of doors, tubes, and other means of transport to move the product throughout the factory. Everything eventually made its way to the first floor, where it was packed into boxcars on the opposite side of the factory.

Photo: The Gateway Arch in St. Louis across the Mississippi River. Photo taken from the roof. The building immediately across the street is owned by Little Ceaser’s Pizza.

Armour and Company began production at this site in 1903 and it stayed open until 1959. The company languished after World War II and its assets were eventually sold off. Dial soap, perhaps Armour’s most lucrative product, is still in production to this day by another company. Armour eventually donated this factory to the city of St. Louis, where it sits unattended to this day.

Photo: A young owl standing only a few feet away. It was about 18″ tall and the talons were intimidating.

Exploring the abandoned Armour Meat Packing Plant was quite satisfying. My friend Drew and I found something new around every turn. There were also plenty of clues in each room to make an educated guess about what that specific area was used for. In the course of exploring the factory we came across two owls. The first one was much larger than the one pictured above. It swooped down and held its wings out while clicking its beak. Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to get close enough to snap a decent photo of it. Later we made our way up a large steel staircase to the uppermost part of the factory. Drew told me to freeze and turn around very slowly. When I turned, I said that I couldn’t see anything, and then it was there. We were only a few feet from a large young owl. My partner descended the stairs slowly, but I stayed behind, slowly raised my camera and started snapping photos. My heart was absolutely pounding at this point.

Urbex gives me a rush every time I stumble upon a new location. I want to see everything it has offer and photograph it. But, there is a level of adrenaline that you become acclimated to when you do urbex enough. Running into the owls was a high unlike any other. It was unnexpected. It was natural. It was dangerous. It was the highlight of the day.

Research Links:

Wikipedia – Armour and Company

Armour and Company History

Virtual Globetrotting – bird’s eye view of the factory

YouTube – UEU314 Armour Meat Packing Plant

St. Louis Patina – Armour Meat Packing Plant

Built St. Louis – Armour Meat Packing Plant

Wikipedia – National City, Illinois

UrbanAdventure.org – Photos from 2002

Flickr – My Armour Meat Packing Plant Set

Gateway Community Hospital

An excerpt from Savage Inequalities by Johnathan Kozol on the medical facilities available to East St. Louis residents in 1990.

East St. Louis-which the local press refers to as “an inner city without an outer city”-has some of the sickest children in America. Of 66 cities in Illinois, East St. Louis ranks first in fetal death, first in premature birth, and third in infant death. Among the negative factors listed by the city’s health director are the sewage running in the streets, air that has been fouled by the local plants, the high lead levels noted in the soil, poverty, lack of education, crime, dilapidated housing, insufficient health care, unemployment. Hospital care is deficient too. There is no place to have a baby in East St. Louis. The maternity ward at the city’s Catholic hospital, a l00-year-old structure, was shut down some years ago. The only other hospital in town was forced by lack of funds to close in 1990. The closest obstetrics service open to the women here is seven miles away. The infant death rate is still rising.

As in New York City’s poorest neighborhoods, dental problems also plague the children here. Although dental problems don’t command the instant fears associated with low birth weight, fetal death or cholera, they do have the consequence of wearing down the stamina of children and defeating their ambitions. Bleeding gums, impacted teeth and rotting teeth are routine matters for the children I have interviewed in the South Bronx. Children get used to feeling constant pain. They go to sleep with it. They go to school with it. Sometimes their teachers are alarmed and try to get them to a clinic. But it’s all so slow and heavily encumbered with red tape and waiting lists and missing, lost or canceled welfare cards, that dental care is often long delayed. Children live for months with pain that grown-ups would find unendurable. The gradual attrition of accepted pain erodes their energy and aspiration. I have seen children in New York with teeth that look like brownish, broken sticks. I have also seen teen-agers who were missing half their teeth. But, to me, most shocking is to see a child with an abscess that has been inflamed for weeks and that he has simply lived with and accepts as part of the routine of life. Many teachers in the urban schools have seen this. It is almost commonplace.

There is some hope for current East St. Louis residents as the area is now served by the Kenneth Hall Regional Hospital. In a city where the median income is ~$26,000/household I doubt most residents have the luxury of having health insurance. A national health care option would have greatly improved the quality of life in the area, but the healthcare reforms passed this year fall short of offering such an option.

In December 2009 my grandmother passed away and the funeral was in St. Louis. I had some time before the service to drive through East St. Louis. Passing by the Gateway Community I noticed how easily it would have been to gain access through the ground level windows. By the time I returned in March 2010 a fence around the perimeter of the hospital had been erected. Plastic now lined the windows on the eastern wing and it appears that asbestos abatement is underway. In the parking lot was a pickup truck with a security guard keeping a close eye on us as we encircled the hospital on foot. It was a bit of a let down, as I had scheduled my day around exploring the hospital. News reports indicate that this former hospital building is indeed coming down. I was glad to get a few shots of it before it is completely gone.

Image Source

Research:

Ecology of Absence – Gateway Community Hospital

Ecology of Absence – Photos of GCH

KMOV – News broadcast on GCH

BND – Article on demolition

Memorial Day

Zoom out the map above and contemplate the number of American servicemen and women who have given their lives for this country.

Meet Reggie

Meet Reggie. By his own accord, Reggie has lived in East St. Louis 48 of his 50 years. My friend and I talked with Reggie for a good twenty minutes about East St. Louis. Talking to people that live in and around urbex locations is a great way to get the raw story. Reggie was no different. It seemed like everyone in the neighborhood knew him as they stopped to say hello while passing by. Through our conversation we were able to get a better sense of what life was like in East St. Louis. Reggie was able to “connect the dots” on the research I had done before going there. In the course of our conversation though, Reggie hit us with something we didn’t expect.

He was extremely supportive of what we were doing.

In a city that is more than 97% African American two tall, bald white guys with expensive cameras stick out. At first we weren’t sure what Reggie’s reaction would be when he approached us. When we explained that we were documenting the level of poverty in his neighborhood, his support became evident. Oddly enough, this theme was consistent throughout the day as more East St. Louis citizens approached us. There is a grave injustice about what is going on in East St. Louis and America needs to see it.

If you look closely at the house Reggie is pointing to there is some smoke damage to the upper portion and the front door is boarded up. The beige house next door was also damaged by the fire. Right next to where this photo was taken is this house.

Reggie told us that these houses burned within a week of each other and that he knew the people who lived there. When asked about the cause he gave two answers. He figured that an electrical fire or accident was a probable cause, but he was quite adamant that arson may have been at play. (I could still feel the heat emanating from this house.) In a middle-class neighborhood a house like this would be rebuilt. Not so in East St. Louis. These lots will most likely stay in this condition until weather elements destroy them completely.

These houses damaged by fire will remain like a scar in their neighborhoods. They are unsightly health hazards and dangerous. They are everywhere in East St. Louis.

This is the United States of America you never learn about in school. This is the place Reggie calls home.

American Urbex Funding

American Urbex is raising funds to offset the cost associated with documenting urbex locations. Pitching in a few dollars will help offset the cost of transportation, lodging and food. There are perks for giving a contribution in any amount. To contribute to American Urbex please visit the project page at IndieGoGo. The goal is to raise $500 by mid August and hit the road to find those abandoned places not listed in any travel guide. They are, after all, far more interesting than any tourist trap.

07/12 Update: Nick F. has contributed $60 cash to the American Urbex project. Kelly H., Phil F. and Lindsey A. have also contributed to American Urbex already. I can’t stress how wonderful it is to know that there are good people out there who support this.

07/14 Update: Matt E., along with two other donors who wish to remain anonymous, have contributed to American Urbex. Muchos gracias!

07/30 Update: Paul B. and Matt C. have donated to American Urbex. Thanks so much! I’m getting closer to the goal!

08/04 Update: An anonymous contributor generously donated to American Urbex. Thanks random anonymous.

I will be taking a road trip in the next few weeks once grad school finishes up this summer. I have my heart set on doing some urbex in the Gary, Indiana area. This is where you, the American Urbex reader, come in. Please take a look at the project page and contribute a few bucks today! Any amount, no matter how small, is greatly appreciated.

Thanks for your time,
Ken Fager

Peter Hauptmann Billboard

Count the number of advertisements you see the next time you walk down the street in any metropolitan area. Try your best to count every single little bit of advertising space you can. This mental exercise can become overwhelming in a matter of minutes. Americans are bombarded with advertising at every turn in urban spaces. This isn’t the case in East St. Louis. Pictured above is one of the few standing billboards in East St. Louis.

Peter Hauptmann (1839 – 1904) was a major player in the tobacco industry and St. Louis bigwig during his time. The Peter Hauptmann label was one of wealth and prosperity. This bulletin board advertised a brand of whiskey the company produced called David Nicholson 1843 Bonded Whiskey (source). By the looks of this sign however, Peter Hauptmann’s time has long since passed us by. Poverty has driven advertisers completely out of East St. Louis. With median household income of only $26,000 (2008 – source) most residents of East St. Louis have no discretionary income. East St. Louis is not in some third world country located in South America, Eastern Europe, or Africa. East St. Louis is in the heart of the United States of America.

This map shows the long shadow cast by the billboard. When navigating cities it is important to get your bearings by picking landmarks. When in East St. Louis I used the Peter Hauptmann billboard as one such bearing.

Research:

Find a Grave – Peter Hauptmann

Google Books – Emil Harms: Peter Hauptmann Company Vice President

Google Books – The Southwestern Reporter: State vs. Kosky

Peter Hauptmann Company – 1892 Advertisement

Ecology of Absence – 1843

The New York Times – June 19, 1897 Tobacco Trade Secrets

History of the National Cigar Company – Acquired Peter Hauptmann Company in the 1960’s.

Jonathan Kozol – Savage Inequalities

East St. Louis demographic statistics