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Ghosts of the Wire Industry: Inside Trenton's Roebling Complex The first fence I found, I didn't jump. I had parked at the edge of the old industrial park and started walking the block, looking for a seam. That's the work. You circle the property, you read the edges, you find the spot where the chain link has been peeled back, or the post has gone loose. I found one almost immediately, a low fence, nothing to it. Then I noticed the man across the street watching me. So I kept moving, hands in my pockets, just a guy who'd taken a wrong turn. A few doors down, a commotion. Two people arguing in the middle of the street, loud enough that I slowed without meaning to. It ended the way those things usually end, with nothing settled. The man stepped back onto the sidewalk and then disappeared into the side of the building. Not through a door. Through a gap in the fence I couldn't see from where I stood. That told me two things. There was another way in. And I wasn...
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Abandoned Pigeon Church: Forgive Us For Our Trespass
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Pulpit Views
🏗️ Development Update — 64 Norfolk Street
The site of the former Beth Hamedrash Hagadol synagogue, destroyed by a three-alarm fire on May 14, 2017, has been transformed into 64 Norfolk Street — a new affordable housing development on the Lower East Side. What was once a 167-year-old Gothic Revival sanctuary is now a modern residential building, part of the neighborhood's ongoing evolution.
Finding this abandoned church of worship was pretty easy. The exact location of this former house of worship would surprise many urban explorers. It's located right in the heart of a rather busy neighborhood surrounded by so many changes. I won't go into detail on the history of this place since it is quite a gem once inside. Let us begin on my mission to get inside this place of God.
It took me four scouting missions to finally realize that what I thought was the entrance was not actually the entrance until on my third scouting mission I realized there was the entrance on the other side staring me in the face. From then, I knew I had to explore this church on all days of the week; a Sunday. The day of rest and worship. The irony finally came to me while drafting this exploration report.
Upper Balcony View
Pulpit
Center of Religious Indoctrination aka Central bimah
Once inside this grand and former religious institution, I was joined by a different flock of congregants. They made their presence known cooing and flapping around my head as daylight began to trickle inside. I could already tell that these faithful pigeons had made it inside their home. Large quantities of pigeon feces were everywhere. It would take large and extensive renovations to fix this epic mess. The pigeons had already made a cozy home within the holes of the roof. Plaster and roofing materials had already come down in some places. Looking up you good see this church was a grand and beautiful house where many came to worship. The elaborate banister and ceiling tiles on the ground floor were intricate and symbolic. Seating numbers were etched in seating cushions.
Numbered Seating Arrangements
Once majestic ceiling.
Views from the middle of church seating.
One point of note was there was no awful graffiti as some abandoned churches have been desecrated by unmoved artists angering local and historical preservationists to no end. No piping or artifacts seemed to have been absconded with into the night. A large selection of religious texts was still on shelves and down in the basement many more were sitting unopened. As the many pictures showcasing this "church", I took no pictures of the basement. Why do you ask? Well, down in the basement I came across some rather large rodents scuttling around without fear. I quickly took some video and headed back up. No rodent was going to fight me for pictures.
Beautiful architecture.
Church selfie? Am I going to hell?
Much of the property stood as the day the doors were finally closed to the last of the faithful congregants. Drapes were still in place and religious texts covered in mounds of pigeon feces lay open with no one to read from them to the ears of the faithful. I would assume the sacred and most cherished prized possession of this institution was probably removed a long time ago. I certainly didn't look for it.
Where I like to sit in church most of the time.
When the religious literature puts you in a state of eternal slumber.
Seating pews gave phenomenal views all around wherever you sat for worship. The rounded seating gallery arrangement was added for the women.
In the end, only time will tell what happens to this property. The ravenous appetite of property developers will have to wait a little longer as the property deteriorates even further by the elements until demo day arrives. Let us forgive those who trespass against us...
Usher views.
🕍 More NYC Sacred Spaces & Lost Landmarks
From synagogues and churches to abandoned hospitals and hidden infrastructure — explore the layers of history buried throughout New York City.
Long before Amsterdam, New York, earned its title as the “Carpet City,” its story was written in water. The restless energy of the Chuctanunda Creek, a modest stream tumbling through the Mohawk Valley, was the city’s first engine. By the early 1800s, its currents were powering the fledgling mills, setting the stage for a transformation that would define not just a city, but an entire era of American industry. The real revolution, however, arrived on a man-made river. The opening of the Erie Canal in the mid-19th century, followed by the iron arteries of the railroad, was like a jolt of lightning. Suddenly, this small upstate city was plugged directly into the world. The goods crafted in its workshops, from linseed oil and simple brooms to intricate buttons and ironworks, could be shipped anywhere with astonishing speed and economy. Amsterdam was no longer just a town; it was becoming a hub. Yet, among its many trades, one industry rose to define its identity. The city’s name beca...
Artist's view of plant in 1918, from the Hughes and Bailey bird's eye view. The former Connecticut Telephone and Electrical Company building in Meriden, Connecticut, is a place that feels like a snapshot from another time. It had been years since I last stepped foot inside, but on a warm day, my companion, J, and I ventured in again, slipping in quietly like field mice. The moment we entered, the familiar layout of an old mill greeted us—wide-open spaces punctuated by rows of sturdy wooden support beams stretching from one end to the other. As we climbed to the top floor, something unexpected caught our attention: piles of fabric strewn across the floor. It was an odd find, especially in a building like this, and it made us pause. For arsonists who haunt these forgotten places, it could have been a dream—kindling for flames in a structure largely made of wood. But, remarkably, this old mill had avoided the fate of so many others that succumbed to fire. What stood out, though,...
The climb to the old Dart Stone Mill wasn't for the faint of heart. My friend J and I huffed our way up that punishing incline, shirts clinging to our backs, calves screaming in protest. But we'd made this trek before, drawn back time and again to this crumbling monument perched high above Vernon, Connecticut. There's something about abandoned mills that gets under your skin, and this one had its hooks in us deep. When Albert Dart built this place back in 1868, he picked the most dramatic real estate in all of Rockville. The mill sits on a rock ledge at the second millseat below Snipsic Lake, clinging to the cliff face like it grew there naturally. And in a way, it may have. The lake fed water to nearly 39 mills as it descended through the valley, dropping ten inches in elevation along the way. That's a lot of industrial muscle powered by gravity alone. Dart built his mill for spinning silk and producing shoddy, a recycled wool material that was big business back th...
While exploring the area for a different site, I stumbled upon this abandoned property, marked by a large pile of household refuse and debris from commercial demolitions, improperly discarded. As night began to fall, I hesitated to venture inside alone. This caution might have been fortuitous, for on a subsequent visit to Newark, New Jersey, I discovered a makeshift bed crafted from an oversized couch. It seemed someone might be using this as a makeshift sleeping area, unwittingly inhaling potentially lethal chemicals not meant for human respiration. The entry to this forsaken place was through a semi-open truck loading dock, obstructed by a concrete barrier, presumably to halt further looting of the structure or to deter unethical contractors from dumping their illegal waste under the veil of night. Once an industrial site, this property was marred by environmental pollutants such as metals, paint, and polyaromatic hydrocarbons. Ninety-one years ago, it was operational before fa...
You’ve got to move when the chance is right. That’s something I keep telling myself—but just as often, I forget it. Or ignore it. And then I end up learning the same lesson all over again. It happened on a quiet afternoon when I pulled up to the old Horsman Doll factory. The place has long been abandoned, but it still holds stories—ones I try to capture through my lens. The main gate was slightly ajar. Not wide open, but just enough for me to slip through with my gear. It was one of those rare opportunities. But across the street, half-hidden behind a rundown house, a group of men sat drinking and shouting over each other. The kind of scene you don't want to get caught up in—especially alone, carrying expensive camera equipment. I hesitated. I debated. I bailed. My gut told me to walk away, so I did. I figured I could find another way in. I circled the block, hoping for a back entrance or even a broken window low enough to climb through. I found one window that looked possible—bu...
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