Watch the full episode. See more Western Reserve Public Media.
The embedded PBS video takes a look at Andrew Moore’s museum installation on urbex. Moore’s philosophical views expressed in he video lend credence to engaging in urbex for artistic purposes. For many urbex photographers, there is more to urbex than just the thrill. Moore also talks about some of his techniques, safety measures, and motivations. Worth the 25 minute watch.
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.
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
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
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 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
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
The New York Times – June 19, 1897 Tobacco Trade Secrets
History of the National Cigar Company – Acquired Peter Hauptmann Company in the 1960’s.
The Murphy Building stands within a stonesthrow of the Spivey Building. If you look closely in top photo above, you can see vegetation growing in the brickwork. Getting up to the higher floors now requires an explorer to exit a second story window and walk up a rickety steel fire escape, as the main stairwell has crumbled into the ground floor. I did not have the stomach climbing out onto the fire escape.
As you can see from this photo the Murphy Building has a beautifully adorned entrance. Vandals have already taken some of the mason work from the higher floor. There isn’t much that remains inside from the time the building was in operation. It is easily accessible, though you will need a flashlight to navigate your way through the basement as no sunlight shines in. The beauty shop, which must have been open for business after the main Murphy Building closed, is accessible through this way.
Research Links:
Built St. Louis – Murphy Building Photos
Ecology of Absence – Murphy Building
Welcome to the Fox Inn. Rooms are available for as low as $22 a night. Well… they were at some point. The Winnebago County Health Department has something else to say about that.
Being right next to H41 this place attracts a lot of attention. The first floor and stairwells are now boarded up completely. Patrols drive past this location quite frequently. The last time I was here shooting footage for a documentary the local Sheriff asked what I was up to. I explained that I was merely shooting footage and would be immediately on my way out. This is a good tip for any urbexer. Don’t run from the police. Just be cool, explain yourself, be friendly and listen to what they tell you to do. Being confrontational and acting suspicious is a great way to end up with a ticket.
So what is the story behind the Fox Inn?
One uncredited source says it closed in January, 2008. At the time I lived in Oshkosh and this seems to comport with what I saw when driving to Appleton. The Fox Inn used to be called the Northern Inn. The last major news item was a triple shooting committed by Chuckie Vang in 2005. Vang has since been captured thanks to a 2008 America’s Most Wanted broadcast detailing his crime. The Menasha Police Department highlighted the arrest in a public report (PDF). Before closing the Fox Inn was home to low-income families and people down on their luck. The Post Crescent ran an article on one such family living in the motel.
Heading along H41 in Kaukauna, Wisconsin you’ll pass this dilapidated house. It appears to have been vacated sometime in the 1990’s. Entering through the basement doors reveals a peculiar oddity. The foundation and windows appear to be fairly new, while the main home is clearly quite older. Most of the basement is filled with possessions of the former owner(s). A newer sturdy stairwell leads to what can be assumed to be the former first floor. Heavier items were moved into the living and dining room areas, but not much beyond that. There was a beautiful Waltham piano in the living room, though vandals have since destroyed it completely. The upstairs is almost completely devoid of human traces.
What most likely happened is the house was moved from its original location. In the process the owner must have fallen on hard times or passed away. The property passed on to the next of kin and the property fell into disrepair.
If you don’t get off highway to look at this home, you never see the trail that leads to a forest behind the home. Following it takes you past several abandoned vehicles. For some reason the Oshkosh Police Department saw fit to abandon a vehicle there too. Entering the wooded area leads more trailers to explore.
Protip: Wear heavy boots. This place has a lot of rusty metal littered everywhere.
Have you ever eaten Jell-O? If the answer is yes, then Peter Cooper has been a part of your life.
New York-based industrialist Peter Cooper received a patent for gelatin in 1845. He is also known for his other major contributions to American history. He also designed the first steam locomotive in the United States. To this date, he holds the record for being the oldest person ever nominated to run for President at the age of 85.
Located just south of Milwaukee in an area called Carrollville sits a huge abandoned complex of buildings at the end of a long road. For decades the Peter Cooper Glue Factory and adjacent business properties have remained dormant. It is a well-travelled urbex location.
The US Department of Health & Human Services wrote about the site in a report.
This area of Oak Creek is historically referred to as Carrollville, though many current Oak Creek residents may not be familiar with the name (Cech 2005). In 1899, the Milwaukee tanning industry established the U.S. Glue Company factory in Carrollville to make glue from remnants and scraps of animal hides, both tanned and untanned. During the 1930s, the U.S. Glue Company sold the factory to the Peter Cooper Corporation, who then sold the factory in 1976 to the French pharmaceutical company Rousselot. Manufacturing of glue continued at the factory until it closed in 1985.
For Milwaukee area old-timers the name Peter Cooper is synonymous with putrid stench. Julio Guerrero (PDF) includes an excerpt from the book Carrollville in Retrospect to explain why the area around the factory smelled so foul.
“The (cow) hides are washed, soaked in lime for 70 days to expand them, washed and treated with acid to neutralize the lime, then cooked in water until becoming a liquor which is spread out to dry for two and one-half hours in one of two million dollar ovens. The dry glue is then ground to a powder and sold. The drying ovens replaced the natural drying process that was handled by the flopper girls, who handled the 4’ x 6’ sheet of glue that seldom dried in a uniform way and often developed mold thereby causing the loss of the entire batch.”
The previously mentioned USDH&HS report details the fire that destroyed much of the Peter Cooper factory in 1987.
In November 1987, a fire broke out in the main buildings of the vacant Peter Cooper facility. This was one the largest fires in the history of Oak Creek, and the wooden structure was consumed by the blaze and fire fighters focused on saving adjacent buildings (Oak Creek FD, 2007). Cech (2005) states, “three of the four stories of the main building had been destroyed, the entire west wall had collapsed, and the remaining ground floor was gutted.”
As of January, 2010 the site was under active demolition.
Research Links:
Biographical information on Peter Cooper
Extensive writeup on Peter Cooper
Mention of the factory in The Milwaukee Journal
UER thread on Peter Cooper Glue
Urban Land Institute report with extensive statistical, geographic, and photographic information (PDF)
US Department of Health and Human Services report on health risks (PDF)
JS Online – Plans to demolish PCG move forward
Wikipedia article on Peter Cooper