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Showing posts from March, 2024

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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Bethel AME Church: A New Chapter for Colored School No. 2

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As I sit down to weave a narrative from the fabric of our nation's complex history, I'm struck by the stark contrasts and the undulating journey of our collective memory, especially regarding the African American experience. In my years as a writer, I've come to understand that history, in its purest form, is a story of us all—its chapters filled with moments of pain and pride, darkness and light. It's a story that demands to be told in its entirety, without omission or censorship, for in its fullness lies the path to understanding and healing. In places like New York, there's a burgeoning movement towards embracing this wholeness, acknowledging the blemishes of our past with the same fervor we celebrate its triumphs. The city, with its mosaic of cultures and histories, is leading the charge in confronting the uncomfortable truths of our collective past. Through the lens of my own experiences, this feels like a step towards true reconciliation—a necessary acknowledg...
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Location: 1634 Dean St, Brooklyn, NY 11213, USA
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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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Location: 61 Empire St, Newark, NJ 07114, USA
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C. H. Wheeler Manufacturing Company

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In the heart of Pennsylvania's sprawling urban landscape, nestled among the bustling streets and vibrant life, lies a hidden realm where the past whispers to those willing to listen. It was on a day, painted with the promise of adventure, that I found myself playing the role of a seasoned guide to a group of eager souls, their cameras in hand but their photographic paths yet uncharted. These budding photographers, friends new to both the craft and to me, were about to embark on a journey through the skeletal remains of forgotten structures, an expedition that would inevitably shape their artistic voyages. Our quest for the day was not merely a casual outing but a deliberate dive into the world of urban exploration, a niche where the beauty of decay and the stories of yesteryear are captured through the lens of a camera. Pennsylvania, with its rich history and plethora of abandoned edifices, offered itself as a canvas ripe for exploration. Before our expedition, I had immersed mysel...
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Location: 1820 W Sedgley Ave, Philadelphia, PA 19132, USA
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Echoes of an Oven: Exploring the Abandoned Nicetown Factory in Philadelphia

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Six years ago, I embarked on an exploratory journey through the forgotten corridors of a place whose name was unknown to me then. Only recently, with a bit of help, I unraveled the mystery: this place, archived in my memory and on my hard drive, was the Freihofer Baking Company. This discovery rekindled a special connection in my heart, remembering my early days in urban exploration in Philadelphia. It was here that I first tasted the thrill of exploring abandoned buildings, a passion that soon had me crossing state lines in search of that exhilarating, novel feeling once more. The neighborhood surrounding the Freihofer Baking Company was a stark canvas of socio-economic hardship, a desolate space that spoke volumes of its forgotten glory. I remember vividly the day I ventured there. Agile and swift, I maneuvered over a wall of large rectangular stones – a barrier against scrappers seeking to plunder valuable metals. These stones were a gateway to the past, leading me to the nearest op...
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Location: 3001 N 20th St, Philadelphia, PA 19132, 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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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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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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