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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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Former Lionetti Oil
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In a corner of the city where history is often paved over, the elusive site bore a name that seemed to vanish from the annals of time. My research, though tenacious, yielded little more than the faint echo of its past. Diving deeper, I stumbled across a similarly named enterprise, but a trail of online records confirmed there was no connection.
The site in question was once a pulsating heart of industry. From the 1940s, it functioned as a hub for heating fuel oil transfer, its machines humming and workers bustling until it ceased operations in 1993. Yet, it wasn’t just the hum of machinery that it left behind. The ground bore the scars of its past, tainted with petroleum hydrocarbons and semi-volatile organic compounds. Remarkably, grant funds were once mobilized to cleanse this wounded land, leading to the removal of 10 above-ground storage tanks and sparking community engagement initiatives.
Fast-forward to 2018, when my boots crunched the gravel of this forsaken property. The once-guarding metal fence lay defeated, allowing me unhindered access. The land told tales of a massive cleanup; where large tanks once stood, now lay evidence of their removal, and mounds of discarded tires, construction debris, and recyclable scrap metal littered the expanse. On an earlier reconnaissance, the site wasn't as welcoming. I had scoured for entry points, only to be denied and redirected to a more promising oil facility nearby. Two vast holding areas, reminiscent of an aggregate and cement company, stood hollow. Their walls, which once cradled five metal tanks, now bore the ghostly imprints of the structures. The lone remnant of its industrious past was the transfer station office building – a shell filled with the discarded remnants of its last inhabitants and the occasional trespasser. Nature, in its reclaiming glory, sent tendrils of green vines to cloak its windows, adding an eeriness to its desolation.
However, the land has not been free from strife. After the tanks came down, its remote location, shadowed by the industrial veil of the McCarter highway, made it a hotspot for continued illegal dumping, further scarring this piece of history.
This small fuel oil transfer station, nestled along the once-bustling industrial belt of Riverside Avenue by the Passaic River, met an unceremonious end. But as cities do, it evolved. By 2020, the property found itself cradled in new hands. Sold for a mere dollar, it transitioned from the City of Newark to Silva Waterfront LLC. Today, it stands renewed, housing an aggregate material enterprise.
You can witness the site's metamorphosis during its demolition phase below.
The site after partial demolition.
The site serves as a poignant reminder that while the world moves on, traces of the past linger, whispering tales to those who dare to listen.
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...
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...
Station House facing Liberty Avenue & Miller Avenue Historical Completed in 1891, the former Romanesque Revival style with Venetian and Noram Revival ornament structure was created by 'architect' George Ingram, who is cited as the designer of the building. Architect Emile M. Grewe is also credited with having a hand in the collaboration. George Ingram was an assistant engineer in the Department of City Works in 1886, who was not a trained architect by trade. The building accommodated about 80 patrolmen, cells, and a stable via a passageway from the main building. Back then, it was known as the 17th precinct (Originally the 153rd precinct). Entrance to the horse stable. Opening in 1892, the first detainee was John Pocahontas Smith, who was arrested for public drunkenness. In the 1930s, it was renamed the 75th precinct. In 1973, the precinct moved to the newer 75th precinct holdings on Sutter Ave. It then became the home to People's Baptis...
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...
Before the Bayside Company was fully known as the Bayside Fuel Oil Corporation. It was transferred by Standard Oil, its previous owner, in the 1940s. Its primary use before that time was mainly for storage and refinery purposes. Later on, it became a wholesale distributor of heating oil. Founded by Charles Pratt, it was one of about fifty refineries operating in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. During the 19th century, Williamsburg was the center of oil refining along the East River & Newton Creek. Fun facts, "some of the largest industrial firms in the nation were started in this area (inland & along Newtown Creek), including Pfizer Pharmaceutical Corporation (1849); Brooklyn Flint Glass (later Corning Glassware ); and the Havemeyers and Elder Sugar Refinery in Williamsburg (later Amstar and then Domino ), once the largest establishment in the world." In the early 2000s, Bayside Oil was proposed to be demolished by a company called Clean Point En...
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