Gloversville Continental Mills

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After the Fire: What Remains of Gloversville Continental Mills A Field of Bricks The bricks were everywhere. Not stacked, not standing. Just scattered across the ground like something vast had simply let go. What used to be Mill No. 3 of the former Gloversville-Continental Mills now spread out before me like a field of rubble, stretching from Beaver Street all the way back to the Cayadutta Creek bank. Thousands of bricks, the same ones that had held this building upright through more than a century of American manufacturing history, lay in random heaps with nowhere left to go. In one corner, pressed against a sealed-off wall, sat what remained of steel beams, HVAC machinery, and other miscellaneous load-bearing beams and the remains of 40 historical knitting machines. The fire had taken everything soft about them. What was left were twisted red-brown skeletons of rust and charred metal, piled on top of each other like they had tried to hold on and failed. Standing there in the ...
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Did Not Catch Me Mill

large open abandoned industrial space



Oh boy! Do I have a story for you guys today!

A first for me and hopefully not one to repeat itself soon. One warm day J and I went to see this mill J had scouted a while back and wanted to revisit. We approached the mill through the front and nonchalantly entered the building we came to shoot first before potentially moving on to the rest of the buildings. We both went our ways inside laboring away behind our cameras when about 20 minutes into taking pictures, J called out to me that he saw a white truck in view from inside where he stood on the second floor. I immediately went up to join J while I continued shooting some more shots you will see below. We found ourselves in a corner of the mill when to my surprise I saw someone enter where we had just entered. We both ducked down behind the partitioned wall and panicked. The male voice was talking on the phone. Next, other voices soon joined the first male voice. Three other people had come in behind the first person. Two males and a female with a small dog.




large disused industrial machinery with rust



To our unpleasant surprise, the owner of the property had shown up with contractors (our guess) getting an estimate on potential work to be done inside the very building we were in. The voices grew distant as we surmised that they were at the very end of the mill. One of the male contractors was talking loudly to the female, who we guessed was either the assistant or secretary taking down notes and measurements. We hid inside a small partitioned room with the door open. To our heightened annoyance, the door did not budge or move when we tried to close it. More on this untimely luck later. As we stooped down in the semi-darkness listening to the voices far down the mill. J wanted to run heel and make a quick exit to the only exit possible. I tampered with that thought and decided against it. After what seemed like an eternity, the voices started to come back up to the front and to our poor pounding hearts came up the staircase to where we were crouching. A flashlight peered inside in a flash and the contractor and owner walked past the small room and headed to the back portion of the second floor. More measurements and notations were shouted out in Spanish and small chit-chat in English with the owner.



second floor abandoned industrial space view
The back portion of the mill.


As our bent knees gave way to exhaustion in the same crouched position. We stood up relieving ourselves of the uncomfortable position. Before you know it, the second male contractor came up the stairs and walked past us crouched again, and headed in the same direction. Several minutes later, all three of them came back in our direction and headed upstairs to the next floor looking for the bathroom. In what seemed like a torturous period they came back down again and headed straight to the ground floor. Glass cracked underneath their feet as we heard them making their way back to the exit. We moved out of our holding crouching positions and peered through the slightly obfuscated square windows. No more voices. We made our way to the back of the mill and slowly made our way down and to the front. Using another door J stated was on the left, we exited behind a phalanx of white truck trailers lined up 15 trailers deep.



upturned chemical barrels and equipment





The dreaded fear and pumping adrenaline now subsiding we made our way back to the car unscathed, out of trouble, and not in handcuffs. In my opinion, I am glad we did not get that door closed. That might have invited them in to see what was inside. Two trespassing explorers crouching on top of broken glass. Let us just say work will be underway at this Did Not Catch Me Mill.


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