Three fellow urban explorers sit down to record their experiences for the American Urbex Podcast. This episode was recorded in the abandoned United Methodist Church in Gary, Indiana.
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Rick Drew – Dive the Bucaneer and Flickr
Charles Dastodd – Flickr
Riley Reynolds – Flickr
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Photo: Taken by Nick Forslund.
Photo: Taken from the Union Station Wikipedia entry.
From afar the Gary Union Station would blend into the background. Its stylish concrete molded exterior has held up extremely well for a building that is now over 100 years old. It is a bit hard to believe from the outside that the building has been completely abandoned now since the 1950s. An burgeoning educated middle class after World War II could afford to own a vehicle and travel the American highway system. Passenger railways were unable to compete and Union Station closed its doors.
According to The Encyclopedia Americana the station cost Gary $250,000 to build in 1908. (That would be about $5.9 million today adjusting for inflation.) Funding came from the city’s namesake and US Steel Corporation founder Judge Elbert H. Gary. At the beginning of the 20th century Chicago and Detroit were major centers of commerce and railroads ran around the bottom of Lake Michigan right where Gary was geographically situated. Union Station was built to serve an area of 500,000 residents.
Photo: A lone chair sits in the main hall.
The interior of Union Station has not fared as well as the steel reinforced concrete façade. Although there are large boards blocking the main entrance, large gaps allow anyone off the street to wander in. It is hard to imagine what the interior may have looked like in its heyday. Large parts of the roof loom precariously overhead waiting to fall. The main hall is littered with soda bottles, old bibles, and other debris. The stairwell leading up to the second floor has a few loose steps. Fire damage lines the walls near the roof. The tunnel that goes underneath the railroad lines on the north side is completely barricaded.
Photo: Graffiti in the freight building painted by epyon5. Who will save us now?
There is a freight building separate from the station on the east side. While passenger trains would stop amenities would be reloaded. There is not much left of this building either.
Gary Union Station is the perfect place for the beginning urban explorer. It is a well known location that is easily accessible. Should anything occur help is not too far away. Even for the seasoned urban explorer Union Station is a must stop. The building played an influential roll in Gary’s early prosperity. It also is a silent testament to the history of American industry.
Resources:
My Flickr Set – Gary Union Station
Wikipedia – Gary Union Station
Lost Indiana – Article on Union Station
John C. Dahl’s description of Union Station
Preserve Indiana – Gary Postcards
Abandoned Gary, IN Train Station Gallery
The Encyclopedia Americana – Search for Gary Union Station
Weird Indiana – Article on Union Station
Grand Central Terminal und Pampenbahnhof (Deutsch)
American Urbex focuses largely on urbex locations located in… you guessed it… America. However, the diverse urbex community is not limited to just the United States. All over the globe there are wonderful sites explored by thrill seeking photographers, both professional and amateur alike. To borrow some comic-geek parlance, this American Urbex entry is an “origin story.” It explains how I got my start in the urbex community while living in Germany.
A long time ago in a country far, far away…
In 2007 I participated in the Hessen Exchange, which permits Wisconsin UW System college students to study abroad in the German federal state of Hessen. While studying at Philipps-Universität in Marburg an der Lahn, I would sometimes commute to Frankfurt on the weekends. Near the end of my semester abroad I was running out of cash, which meant I was left to my own devices for entertainment. Fortunately I had purchased a Kettler Alu-Rad 2600 (oh how I still miss that bicycle), and with my Philipps ID could ride anywhere in Hessen for free on the Deutsche Bahn. One of the stops between Frankfurt and Marburg was a place my father had been stationed in the military decades prior, Butzbach. One day, on a whim, I decided I would get off the train and ride around. I spent most of the day in the sweltering summer sun riding around without aim or purpose until I had my fill. When it was time to leave I made my way back to the train station, only to discover the next ride home would depart in well over a half hour. I decided to get back on my bike and ride across the tracks and there it was.
The front office building had broken windows. A large portion of the property had been demolished, but it looked as though it hadn’t been touched in a long time. The fences surrounding the complex were wide open. What the hell, I thought to myself, what do I have to lose? I locked my bike up and made my way into the sprawling Hassia Landmaschinenfabrik.
Over the next few hours I cautiously made my way through the complex buildings. The enormity of it all ramped up my adrenaline levels. I wanted to see it all, but didn’t know where to begin. Luckily I had enough presence of mind to take out my diminutive Sony DSC-L1 camera and start snapping away. Something snapped the right synapses in my head and made a connection between adventure, aesthetic beauty, and decay. Up to this point I had no prior knowledge that there was a name for this sort of thing: urban exploration.
There were so many different and varied environments at the Hassia Landmaschinenfabrik and each individual one told a story. At the forefront of complex were the offices. Rummaging through old invoices I was able to discern that the factory made heavy farm implements. The most recent dates were in the mid-1990’s. Phone directories, internal memos, backups of what I assume were important data files were littered in a single corner. This was all that remained of whatever administrative activities occurred at this place.
Behind the administration areas were even large buildings that stood mostly empty. All that remained here were massive steel machines too heavy to move. The behemoths stood like dormant monuments to the sweat poured by numerous laborers that toiled beneath them.
The stacks on the second floor had a dense wood musk to them. Among the rows I found a number of identification cards for an American soldier. It made me realize that although this place had been long abandoned, there were others just like me who explored this place.
When going through the factory I tried to snap as many photos as I possibly could to document everything. There was no way I’d be returning to this place in the near future. I managed to fill up my camera’s 1gb flash card rather quickly.
While wandering the empty factory I lost complete track of time. I had spent many hours around Frankfurt’s Museumsinsel, an area of the city densely packed with all kinds of museums. But the Hassia Landmaschinenfabrik enraptured me like nothing else. Eventually though, my camera batteries ran out and it was time to leave. I boarded the Deutsche Bahn back to Marburg an der Lahn, took the bus home, put my bike away, and fell into bed.
Translation: Grinding without protective eyewear is forbidden!
When I awoke the only thing I could think about was processing the pictures and getting them uploaded to Flickr. Once they were up there the response was immediate.
How did you find this place?
What made you want to go in there?
What if you got hurt?
Are you crazy?
It was then I learned that there is a social component to urbex. There is the urbex community which find this subject matter engaging. Then there is average person who is oddly repulsed, but simultaneously attracted to the photos that urbexers create.
We live in a time where safety and security has been taken to extremes. Playgrounds in America cannot have wood chips because a kid might get a splinter. Working in a college environment I have to deal with “helicopter parents” hover over their adult children. Schools have begun to ban soda because for fear of diabetes, obesity, and caffeinated kids. Cities have health ordinances that prevent enterprising children from running a lemonade stand. Toys are constantly recalled because children manage to somehow hurt themselves. Our society is constantly reengineering public and private spaces to minimize the risk of potential injury.
I think that urbex photography is attractive to the viewer because it is so taboo. Entering abandoned property is a dangerous activity that contradicts societal rules for safety that we grow up with. We’re taught to stay away from such places. That’s not to say urbexers do not take safety seriously. On the contrary, SAFETY is taken very serious by urbexers. Urbexers must practice safety methods in order to experience these places and get out in one piece.
With that my English explanation of how I got involved in urbex comes to an end. For you German speakers there is this little bit more.
Es würde mich freuen, nach diesen Ort nochmals zu reisen. Ich habe ein kleines Teil meines Harz in Deutschland zurückgelassen. Meine Urbex-Passion wachst mit jedem verlassenen Gebäude, dass ich fotografiere. Und jedes Mal, denke ich an die Hassia Landmaschinenfabrik. Die inspiriert mich.
My Flickr Set: Hassia Landmaschinenfabrik
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.
Research:
Ecology of Absence – Gateway Community Hospital
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
In the interest of preservation the exact location of this farmhouse will not be shared. It is a fairly easy to find if you’re willing to drive around Janesville, Wisconsin. Hop on your motorcycle and you’ll be triumphant. (That’s a hint.)
This weekend I stumbled upon an abandoned farmhouse. Rural exploration (rurex) sites often yield a wealth of photographic opportunities. Because of their relatively isolated locations they receive less traffic from vandals, drug users, the homeless and other explorers. They often have personal artifacts left behind in undisturbed states. I was able to locate a phonebook from 1988 on the floor of this farmhouse. There was also a few envelopes full of checks from 1974. All evidence shows that this house is not standing up to the elements. Plants have begun to grow in the woodwork, all of the windows are broken, and the floors are sunken in.
It was also nice to get a text from another urbexer who was a few minutes away at the time. We met up and checked out another abandoned farm close by.
Requiem For Detroit is a British documentary on the history of a city that once embodied the American Dream. This fascinating documentary features many urbex locations throughout. Keep an eye out for them while watching and listen closely to their histories. Urbex locations are more than just abandoned buildings. They each have a story to tell that spans the past, present and future.
Part one is embedded above and the rest can be viewed on YouTube.