Long ago, before China became the manufacturer of almost everything we use and buy, America's Great Lakes states hummed with the self-sufficiency of its factories and industry. A case in point is the onetime factory illustrated here, a maker of hardware, nuts and bolts, threaded rods, rivets, etc. A complex consisting of several buildings, a power house and an office building, the plant thrived through the boom times well enough to warrant building an addition in the 1950s. Later, the company became a subsidiary of a much larger corporation but it wasn't until the 1980s that the pressures of the bottom line focused its eye on this facility. Not as big as the newer, more efficient factories located elsewhere and abroad, this factory eventually succombed to the goal to cut costs and closed its doors at the end of 1986.
As best as I can tell, this factory briefly re-opened in 1988 under a new name and operated for a few more years as a much-scaled-back operation, with a fraction of its former workforce. By 1992, it was closed for good. Around the turn of the millenium, an environmental cleanup at the property saw the removal of materials containing asbestos and PCBs, drums of chemical wastes, above ground storage tanks, sandblasting waste areas, galvanizing waste and buried debris at the site. Soil samples were taken and groundwater monitoring wells were installed to monitor levels of lead and vinyl chloride in the soil and groundwater. Since then, scrappers have hauled away much of what was left unattached, such as the rows of metal lockers that once lined the upstairs bathrooms. Otherwise, the property and buildings remains unoccupied and empty, slowly overcome by nature.
A visit in 2009 (three such visits are featured here) reveals all the buildings wide open and in varying condition. The offices are trashed, windows are broken, and the factory walls have a number of gaping holes. It would be nice to find some samples of hardware left behind, but none have been left by the ever-efficient scrappers.
The main halls of the factory. Two long metal-framed buildings made up the bulk of the facility.
Seen in some of the photos are some of the hundreds of piles of filthy, rotting clothes collected some years ago by a local charity. Destined for the less fortunate elsewhere in the world, the clothes spent several years in storage facilities elsewhere, at a considerable expense. When the storage contract ran out, the clothes were moved here for free storage. Of course, for what was already spent to store the clothes, one would assume they could have been distributed instead but yet here they sit. And rot. Thousands of wet, filthy uniform shirts and pants that aren't going anywhere in a hurry occupy the second of the factory's large steel buildings.
One last picture of the filthy donated clothes. They're worth a couple of pictures just for the sake of curiosity, but otherwise they are just taking up space. I'd like to shoot this building without them in the way.
The central portion of the factory features dozens of reinforced concrete columns, and a heavy, concrete upper flooor.
Upstairs, in the central portion of the factory, was additional manufacturing space.
Plans were finalized in 2009 which saw the church involved in a complicated 3-way swap involving the Diosese and the city with it eventually winding up in the hands of a developer. The property deed was handed over in late 2010 and work began just a few months afterward. There is a catch, however. There always is a catch. While the friends of the church were celebrating its "preservation", the reality was that it was a hollow victory. And perhaps the word "hollow" is most appropriate here because plans call for gutting most of the church and saving just its west and south walls and building up inside them an entirely new, modern senior citizen's residential building. Oh, sure, those two original walls are by far the most interesting and include the three characteristic towers that lend so much to the church's appearance, but seriously, is this really a "perservation"? More like a lobotomy I think. I don't like it. I'm reminded of the scene in "Planet of the Apes" when Charlton Heston sees his buddy with the giant scar on his forehead where the apes cut out his brain. 
Oh well, there is nothing I can do. I didn't buy the church so I don't get any input. 
On to the photos. I'd been by the place a few times over the years 2008-2010, and it always looked to be impenetrable. Windows were boarded up, and even worse, all the doors were bricked up with concrete block. Occasional interior views could be seen on the internet, usually taken years earlier or accompanied with hair-raising stories of scaling fire escapes and climbing in through holes in the roof. I never figured I'd get to see the insides of the place. Later, workers (or someone) gain access by sawcutting out enough of the concrete blocks at the front entrance to expose one of the front doors, but a large and heavy chain is installed to keep troublemakers from opening it. 
Flash forward to July of 2010. On a whim, I drove by on a weekday and noticed something has changed. Gone is the big chain from the front door, and unless my eyes are deceiving me, the door looks to be ajar. I parked the car to investigate. Sure enough, the door is ajar by about one inch. I'm quite sure the church can be entered. Walking around to the back, I find one spot where the fence has been knocked over. Now the plan becomes clearer. Arrive early - really early - on a Sunday morning when no one is around, hop the fence where its already knocked over, and make a beeline to the front door and slip in unnoticed. 
Arriving at 5:30 AM, my first concern was an unexpected one. The spot where the back fence was knocked over was illuminated by a streetlight! I suppose that's not necessarily a deal breaker but I was concerned the streetlight would light me up for everyone to see while I fumbled over the fence. I sat there for several minutes and contemplated my next move, or more accurately, whether I'd make a move at all... And all of a sudden the streetlight turned itself off. Ah, its got a light sensor. Now was the time to strike. I grabbed my camera and tripod and made my way to the back alley and was quickly over the fence and into the church's side lot. 
Entry into the building was easy as pie. Because of the fence at the front entrance, it was necessary to squeeze under the stair handrails, but after doing so, I was able to march right in through the front door. Yes it was unlocked. Inside, the church was an oven due to the previous day's heat, this being July and all. Pigeon crap, feathers, and dead pigeons were everywhere. A fair amount of recent-vintage garbage was present, probably left during the years before the entrances were bricked up. I made a quick sweep of the place with my flashlight before I busied myself getting some photos. 
Man I worked up a sweat shooting in this place! Two trips up the stairs to the balcony, and a few round trips up and back to the alter left me sweating like a pig. Like I mentioned, it was hot in there! After about an hour, I was satisfied with my photos and decided to leave. I headed back out the front door and through the side lot to the fence, then a few minutes I was back to the car. My shirt was soaked from top to bottom in sweat! Luckily I had a spare in the car and if anyone in the neighborhood was awake to see me they would have seen me stripping my sweaty shirt off right there on the street before I got in the car. Hmmm, they would have thought, did that guy just come back from jogging in those heavy work boots? 
