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Showing posts from December, 2023

Meriden-Wallingford Hospital

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The Hospital Nobody Bothered to Ruin In my world, attention is what kills a building. This one sat in the dark for thirty years, and nobody came. That may be the only reason it gets a decent ending. I drove past this place for years and never once wanted to go in. That sounds strange coming from me. Finding a way into empty buildings is what I do. But I knew this hospital by sight long before I knew anything about it, because it sits on the road I took to the old International Silver power plant , and every time I passed it I thought the same thing: not worth it. Boarded up. Dark. Picked over. Nothing in there for me. I want you to hold onto that, because it turns out to be the most important fact in this whole story. How A Hospital Dies Twice Hospitals are the trophy. Everybody in urban exploring knows it. There is something about them that pulls people in harder than a factory or a school ever will, and I understand why. You are walking through the rooms where people were...
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2023 Year in Review

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Reflecting on 2023, it's been a rollercoaster of a year for me, both professionally and in my urban exploration pursuits. The year began with a significant career shift – leaving a job I thought would be a long-term stay for a new opportunity. The old job had its perks: yearly pay hikes, a 30-year pension plan, and a family-like team. The new job promised similar benefits but with a shorter pension period and a seemingly welcoming atmosphere that, unfortunately, hasn't felt right for me. I've been grappling with this sense of not fitting in, a dilemma made all the more challenging by the current tough job market. On a different note, my urban exploration adventures across the New England corridor have been a highlight of my year. I've pushed my boundaries, venturing further northeast of New York City, driven by an increasing stamina for long drives. This newfound exploration range has been a silver lining, enabling me to document more sites than ever before, despite the...
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Former Anamet Manufacturing Complex

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  Anamet Inc I recall my ventures through Anamet vividly. A breach in the fence was our gateway into this forgotten realm, leading us straight to the old powerhouse. The front office building and the rolling mill eluded our exploration. I believe we did not venture into these two buildings based on not having anything useful inside but just empty spaces and open windows. Nothing inside was appealing I am guessing since we did not venture inside on this day and I did not return to this area for a good few years. A huge disappointment in my book as I looked over my pictures on this day.  The grounds were littered with the debris of abandonment – beds, household odds, and ends, remnants of haphazard demolitions, all evidence of a space left unguarded. The powerhouse, known as Building 27/27A/27B, was a relic of industrial might. Within its walls, boilers and assorted machinery sprawled across multiple floors, each piece telling a story, each corner a snapshot in time, adding dept...
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Location: 698 S Main St, Waterbury, CT 06706, USA
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Connecticut Telephone and Electrical Company

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  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,...
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Former Sonoco Paper Mill

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  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...
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Diner Dreams and Declines: The Kullman Dining Car Company

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  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...
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John A. Roebling's Sons Company Upper Works

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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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Inside the Abandoned Horsman Doll Factory in Trenton

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  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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