Armour Packing Plant

Across the river, in East St. Louis, there exsists a large area dotted with industrial ruins known as National City. If you would have visited this area 100 years ago, you would have seen one of the most well known and innovative industrial centers in the country, with it's state of the art meat packing plants and stockyards. This once great and now crumbling area is often cited as one of the causes for the urban decay taking place in East St. Louis. The Armour Packing plant once made hot dogs - Armour Hot Dogs (I feel like I should be singing that), and is now one of the most spectacular ruins in this part of the country.

The day Chris, Tunajive, and I visited Armour was an exciting day before we even left our meeting spot. White Rabbit, creator and administrator of www.undergroundozarks.com, was making the trip up from his hometown of Springfield so that we could show him some of the highlights in St. Louis. It was through White Rabbit's site that our small but illustrious group had met, as we were all active on the Undergound Ozarks forums. Though we had spoken via email, none of us had ever met White Rabbit. He pulled up just as I was taking an impromptu pee, which was quite embarrasing. But what an ice breaker! We all introduced ourselves to him and his girlfriend Hiccup, and then were off to Armour.

I was immediately impressed with the packing plant. It is massive, beautiful in it's crumbling state, and relatively free of any tagging. White Rabbit was impressed as well. "We don't have anything close to this in Springfield," he said. Chris began giving us the grand tour. Armour is really two separate buildings: the packing house and the power plant that supplied it with power. Armour was built in 1903 by Chicago industrialist Phillip Armour. He singlehandedly revolutionized the process in which hogs were slaughtered and converted into yummy rods of deliciousness. As opposed to having the slaughtering done at a different plant and then shipped somewhere else for processing, Mr. Armour realized it would be easier to do it all in one place. Packing plants like this were the first industry to use assembly lines. Phillip Armour simplified the process of hog slaughtering and processing by giving one simple task to countless unskilled workers, allowing hogs to be killed, dismembered, and prepared faster than it had ever been done before. Different by-products were even used to make different products like Dial soap! Unfortunately, this empire of meat was abandoned like the rest of National City in 1959. It is in relatively good condition when compared to the nearby Hunter Plant, which closed in the 80s and is crumbling to the point unrecognition.

We began exploring the packing building first. As we slowly ascended the many floors, we found more and more intersting catwalks and ladders. It's amazing how a ladder can go absolutely nowhere, but because it's there I just have to climb it. At one point, White Rabbit decided to climb out into a portion of the building where the above floors had collapsed into the room. As he was returning, he somehow cranked his head on a fallen beam and spent the rest of the trip looking as though someone had smashed a ketchup packet on his forehead. I never once heard him complain about his wound. I did, however, hear him tell Hiccup that he was sorry on multiple occasions. Apparently, this was not the first time his adventurous nature had been a source of stress for her.

On higher floors we found large trenches in the floor that seemed to run to a series of drains. Always morbid, Tunajive and I decided that these must have been where the blood ran after they slit the hogs' throats. Not that we have any idea about the process, but we'd like to think we're right. On the highest floor, you can still see the gate where the hogs would file into the large room for god knows what step of the process. There was no real machinery left in this area of the plant, so I didn't get to see the large machines with whirring blades and clubs like I'm sure must have been there at one time.

After the packing building, we entered the power plant. This building is by far the more interesting at Armour, because unlike it's sister it still has all the old massive machines that used to keep the plant running. I've never seen such a collection of industrial equipment so well preserved in one place. This alone makes any visit well worth the trip. We wandered around this building, actually finding our way into one of the two smokestacks. Though we exited covered in black carbon powder, it was worth it for the feeling of being at the bottom of the massive stack. White Rabbit seemed to want to climb up the ladder that still stretched to the top, but was somewhat unsure of it's stability.

We walked up another series of steel staircases and found ourselves on a catwalk above the giant coal hopper. Interestingly, it was still full of coal. I grabbed a handful in case I would have to play Santa this year. Because seriously, where can you find coal this day in age? The higher floors of this building are all the old locker rooms, including one that is only acessible by dropping through a hold in the roof of the plant. Here on the roof, White Rabbit and I both seriously considered climbing the ladder that still remained on the outside of the smokestack, but again we weren't sure how much we could trust the 100 year old rungs. In the end, our good sense got the better of us. White Rabbit was able to show us the power of his digital camera from there on the roof, taking a shot of someone scavenging through the junk that litters the land around the plant. "You wanna see his face?" he asked me. It was amazing how close he was able to get! It looked as though he had bed standing right next to the man when he took the photo. I guess that's what paying a grand for a camera will get you.

Armour is one of the more interesting places I've ever explored, and begs many return trips. Whenever I tell someone that I visited an abandoned building in East St. Louis, their eyes widen. The armour plant, however, is well removed from anything else. It sits alone, crumbling yet undisturbed. There are always ideas being discussed by those who discuss ideas about what could be done with the many empty industrial areas of National City. Until then, Armour and the surrounding ruins will remain as a testament to a once great empire of industry.

Live Review: The Appleseed Cast

Last night I made the trip to the Gargoyle at Washington University to take in one of my personal favorites: The Appleseed Cast. This was my first time at the Gargoyle, so I wasn't exactly sure where to go. The directions on the website are unspecific, and there are no signs or anything on campus. Somehow, I managed to wander into the correct building. Then it was only a matter of following the 18 year old scenesters with emo haircuts. This just proves my theory: When you can't find the show, follow the emo kids. It's never failed me.

The opening band was a local outfit called The Feed. At first, I was a little aprehensive, as I saw they had a saxaphone waiting on stage. I was preparing myself for the worst of local band self-importance, but these guys actually kicked major ass. They play a interesting brand of piano driven pop, and the saxaphone was only used on a couple songs. It actually fit into the set very nicely, so well done gentlemen. The lead singer kept reminding everyone that it was okay to move around a little bit, and insisted that we all move closer to the stage. By the end of their set, most of the audience had taken to at least minor head bobbing, which is pretty good for an indie crowd.

The next band to play was another local group called Sparland. They were obviously quite young, and wanted desparately to sound like anyone on Victory Records. Normally, I'm a sucker for rock with synth added in, but their keyboardist seemed to be added as an afterthought. I will admit that he was quite enthusiastic, jumping around stage with a feminine style stolen directly from Johnny Whitney from the Blood Brothers. I chose not to waste any of my film on this band. And I was using a digital camera.

Finally, Appleseed took the stage. Their particular style of atmospheric reverb rock translates particularly well in the small club setting. Very few bands can create such lush soundscapes with only two guitars. Known for their epic instrumental sections, the Cast played for a good 5 minutes before singer Christ Crisci sang a word.

I knew, after reading their website, that they would be playing mostly songs from their forthcoming album. The new stuff was beautifully realized, and I can't wait to hear the recorded versions. Despite the amount of material they were unfamilliar with, the audience remained attentive, while they were the most enthusiastic when the band broke into old favorites like "Forever Longing the Golden Sunsets." I was particularly impressed with the drumming of Josh Baruth, who seemed at many moments to be in some kind of a zone, smashing cymbals in a way that helped drive the band forward.

After the band left the stage, I was amazed that the entusiastic crowd was able to get them back out for an encore. The played another old favorite "Fishing the Sky." It was, as expected, an amazing show. I look forward to the new album, and for their return in April.

A Return to Enright Middle

On the same day that Chris, Tunajive, and Inubis and I had visited St. Mary's Infirmary, we also made a trip out to Enright Middle School. None of the other guys had seen the place, and I really wanted to return during the day so I could have a little more freedom with taking pictures.

Since my last post on Enright, I have learned that I was incorrect in my belieft that William B. Ittner designed Enright Middle. I used www.eco-absence.org to help me find the actual architect: a firm called Mauran, Russell & Garden. Also, as you can see from this picture, Enright Middle School was not always known as such. It has been known at different times as Smith Academy & Manual Training School, Blewett Junior High School, Harris Teacher's College, and Enright Classical Junior Academy.

The first thing that I noticed when we attempted to enter the building was that the entrance I had used before wouldn't work. It had involved climbing through a high window onto shelves in a storage room. Inubis was the first to try. "Where am I supposed to go?" "Just climb into the room on the shelves," I said. "What shelves?" So, we ended up dropping the 10 feet or so into the storage room. Except for Chris, who realized that the outside door on the outside wall was open. Damn him and his "being smart!" It was obvious right away why the shelves were no longer there: Renovation had begun on the school. All of the trash and rubble that used to be in this area was gone! The shop rooms, which used to still have all the old work tables, were completely empty. The broken mirrors and sinks in the restrooms had also been cleaned up. I had one of those bittersweet moments that an explorer experiences when they realize that a place they love is being saved, but will soon be off limits to them. I was glad that the other guys were getting a chance to see the school before it was completely closed off.

I may have spoken too soon. From the shop and art areas in the back, there is one hallway that leads to the rest of the school's interior. It was securely chained. Perhaps they wouldn't get to see the school after all. We wandered around the outside of the building in the back and found our way into the boiler room. Never having been in a school's boiler room before, I was amazed at the huge air ducts that left the boilers and headed into the school. They were so large that we were able to walk around on them with little difficulty.

It was then that someone noticed our possible entrance to the school. There was a utility tunnel that left the boiler room at it's lowest point. Success! We ended up being right, as the tunnel led to another electrical room in the school. It required a pretty tight squeeze between some pipes, but we weren't going to let that stop us.

Inside the school, it was again clear the amount of work that was being done on the building. Much of the crumbling material on the floors had been removed, and there were instructions written everywhere with spray paint like "demo this wall" and a line. Inubis found a can of the spray paint, and we all commented that it would be pretty funny to instruct them to demolish some additional walls, just to really confuse everyone, but we're not that evil! We also saw a few high tech looking machines apparently used for cleaning up the asbestos. The most interesting aspect of the renovation was one of the fourth floor gymnasiums: It was completely covered with plastic on every wall, like some kind of clean room in case of radiation spill or something.

Apparently, the plan for Enright is for it to be made into apartments, as well as 24 luxury houses being built on the large field in front of the school. As always, I am glad this historic and beautiful building is being used in some way, and I guess there are worse things that apartments and luxury houses. Hopefully, it will help to revitalize an area of the city that seems to really need it.

Does anyone else think that this sign is as funny as I do?!

St. Mary's Infirmary

There are not many people that share my interest in exploring the forgotten places that few people get to see. Many people seem interested in my stories, or in photos of these historical places, but the idea of actually wandering into such a place just doesn't seem appealing to them. I have often been jealous of cities that have a tight knit group of explorers who share each other's zeal for these places, and wondered why a city as littered with forgotten history as St. Louis would have no such group. However, I am quite idealistic about the group that I met up with recently: Chris, Tunajive, and Inubis. This was my first time meeting Tunajive and Inubis (I had the pleasure of exploring the Falstaff Brewery with Chris), and I could tell right away that they were as excited about exploration as I was.

We took only a moment to decide where the day's adventures would take us. I briefly looked over the site cards that Inubis had made that systematically plotted out all possible sites in the area that he had explored or wanted to explore (man, this guy was prepared!). I knew that Chris had already visited St. Mary's Infirmary, but did not get to finish his exploration because of an unsettlingly noisy vagrant on the floors above. Feeling safer in a large group, we decided that this was the day to return to the Infirmary.

The History of St. Mary's Infirmary is a long one. The property was purchased by the Sisters of St. Mary in 1877 with the intention of founding a small hospital. The first hospital building, which still exists today as the center portion of the old wing, was constructed in 1889 with additions in 1896 and 1906. Interestingly enough, this is the first hospital that SSM Healthcare traces the history of it's company back to. SSM now operates 20 Hospitals across Missouri, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Oklahoma. The other large wing was built in 1954, and is as one would expect in much better shape than the older portion. St. Mary's has had many functions over the years: It has operated as a hospital, a nursing home, a detoxification center, and a drug and alcohol rehab center. It now lies vacant and crumbling, with a large "For Sale" sign displayed on one of the fire escapes.

Chris, Tunajive, Inubis, and I parked and began the short walk to the Infirmary. I don't have any data to prove my theory, but as the strong winds hit my face I was pretty sure that it was the coldest day EVER. I had to remind myself not to breath every time I took a photo, so that my breath wouldn't ruin the shot. It was so cold that Inubis had donned a green mask that covered all of his face except the eyes. With this on and his hood up, he look like some kind of weird ninja. We had to remind him that when one is trying to look inconspicuous, one doesn't want to look like a ninja. Chris quickly discovered a way in to the older addition. On his previous visit, he had seen the entire 1954 wing but only the basement of the older, more interesting wing. That was where we started.

Despite being abandoned for a considerable amount of time (the older building since probably around 1980), there is plenty of "stuff" left over. One of the first rooms I entered on the first floor had well over 30 toilets just sitting there. It made me scratch my head. Who took the time to assemble this army of porcelain, and why? As I wandered around the first floor, I was struck by how beautiful this building must have been in it's prime. Little things caught my attention, like the intricate design of the cast iron staircase, or the lovely tile designs on the first floor. Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted. All at once, the four of us stopped and listened. There was obviously someone on one of the floors above us. We figured we would just continue our exploration and hope we didn't disturb whoever was above us. While we never ended up seeing someone in the Infirmary, signs that it was being used as a home by a number of people were apparent everywhere.

The higher we explored in the Infirmary, the more the floors became ruined and decayed. On the L-shaped addition in particular, one of the walls is crumbling and pretty much gone on every floor. On the sixth and last floor, we could see the floor below us in many places. We made sure only to step on the areas where we knew there were beams underneath. It was a slightly unnerving experience. It was on the top floor that we found a large metal machine with a round door on the side. "That must be an iron lung for babies," I heard someone say. We all laughed. "What else could it possibly be?" Chris, being the smart one as always, read the label and realized that it was an instrument sanitizer. So much for our iron lung theory! Convinced that we had seen all that this older wing had to offer, we began to search for a way into the 1954 addition.

We wandered into the kitchen on the lowest level, and from there found our entry into the newer wing of the Infirmary. This wing is not nearly as interesting as the older one, with a more modern institutional design that must have been common in the 50's. All of the rooms and floors looked very similar. Upon reaching the second floor, we noticed that there was the distinct smell of something burning. We entered a corner room and saw that someone was warming food with a makeshift heater using a small fire in a tin cup. The fire was still burning, but there was no one to be seen. Not wanting to disturb someone's meal, we promptly left that area. The new wing had a few more oddities, such as a jail cell (I'm assuming this was used when the facility acted as a rehab center) and a small staircase that went nowhere, only to a wall.
The fact that there are so many relics that hint at it's former life as a hospital make St. Mary's Infirmary especially interesting. I saw many old beds, a few wheelchairs, and even an ancient looking device for viewing x-rays. Although the many "living areas" made it apparent that we were the visitors here, I never felt uncomfortable. I was, however, glad that there were four of us. This is a remarkable site, and like many other crumbling landmarks in St. Louis, I would imagine someone will choose to do something with it soon. The latest information that I could find show the current owners planning 48 loft apartments and a possible restaurant. I know that I, for one, will be interested to see what the future holds for this forgotten site.

Falstaff Brewery No. 10

Most people in St. Louis are familiar with the historic Lemp Brewery. In some ways, I think this could just be due to the tragic history of the family. On one of my recent explorations, I met up with my new exploring buddy Chris for the first time, and he suggested we go to the old Falstaff Brewery. I'm always game for anything, but I did have to admit that I was not familiar with the place. Truthfully, I had never even heard of it. As we had both read the book The Lost Caves of St. Louis, he explained to me that this was most likely the site of the old Consumer's Brewery Cave. Ever since I read that book, it has been a desire of mine to set foot into one of the many historic caves that stretch beneath the streets of St. Louis. As we drove to the brewery, I expected a small and rather uninteresting building. I could never have imagined how amazing our day was about to become.

The first brewery on this site was called Stumpf's Brewery, and was built in 1853. In 1877, Stumpf sold the brewery to Thamer Brewing Company, and it contined to change hands throughout the years: A. Griesedieck and Company, Miller Bros. Brewing Company, Consumer Brewing Company (for which the cave is named), and then back to the Griesediecks. At that time, in 1911, it became known as the Griesedieck Brother's Brewery. I do know that eventually the brewery came under control of Falstaff and was known as Falstaff Brewery No. 10. What I'm not sure about are exact dates: when Falstaff took over or when the plant eventually shut down. I know that most of the Falstaff Breweries began closing in the late 70s, so I can only assume that this one was no different. Another interesting point is that the Lemp Beer crest that is still visible on some of the buildings at the Lemp Brewery is almost exactly like the Falstaff Crest. Chris said that this was because they were both arms of the same company. I'd appreciate it if anyone could shed some light on this for me.

What I noticed as Chris and I approached the site was how massive it was! I could not believe that I had never noticed it before, since it is located right off of Interstate 55. Walking into the place was amazing, as the tall buildings seem to circle in around you on all sides. As we entered the first building, Chris almost immediately found the entrance to the Comsumer's Brewery Cave. Descending the old stairs into the cave is an experience I'll never forget. One always hears about the caves that lie under the city, but that seems almost like another realm of existence, one normal people will never get to see. I couldn't believe I was doing it! The wooden staircase led to a small chamber with brances off in three directions. There were a few lower chambers of the cave, but they seemed to be completely full of water. The book Lost Caves of St. Louis talks about the spring that was once located in the cave, and Chris and I noticed that the water was clear and moving. We assumed that this had something to do with the spring. One of the rooms led to a large machine that we decided must have been some kind of cooling unit. Then again, what do we know?

In one room, there was some sort of split level entrance, with one part going to an upper chamber and one going to a lower, and of course flooded, chamber. Wanting to reach the upper chamber, I told Chris that we should attempt to prop the fallen wooded stairs that were lying to the side back up against the wall. When we tried, the whole thing fell apart at once, like something out of a cartoon. We found another way, though, as Chris found an old ladder. What I found interesting about the ladder was that the steps on the ladder were completely covered with calcite deposits, which leads me to believe that the cave is still alive. Despite all man's interference, nature continues to relcaim it's areas. The upper chamber of that we found had a curved ceiling and lots of left over equipment, and also provided us a look up at the sidewalks above through a grate. Chris and I had noticed this grate as we walked the street above earlier. "I wonder where that goes," I said, after which he replied "Somewhere I want to be!" There were many leftover metal frams, as you can see from the pictures. I am not sure what these were used for. The caves were at one time almost certainly used as a lagering cellar, as most of the St. Louis caves were at one time or another. Confident that we had seen all there was to see of the Consumer's Brewery Cave (it's not that large, and we unfortunately didn't bring a raft to navigate the flooded parts), Chris and I decided to head back up and begin exploring the rest of the facility.

I was amazed at the amount of equipment that still remains inside the facility. Chris and I took our time, wandering into every room and admiring the large brewing tanks and all the strange gauges and switches. The main staircase in the building was made of cast iron, and we couldn't believe that it had not been stripped and sold. Despite it's extremely rickety look and the fact that it was missing a few steps on the lowest level, it was quite sturdy. Interestingly enough, it seemed to get better and better as we got higher and higher. Every time we got to a new level, we couldn't believe when we saw that the stairs continued to go up. I lost track of how many different levels we climbed. One of the rooms a few floors up appeared to be some kind of laboratory .... perhaps a beer laboratory? There were many test tubes and containers.....then again, it could have also been someone's meth lab at one time. I don't know too much about that kind of stuff. Near the top of the first building, Chris and I climbed through a hallway that was full of rubble two feet high, and came to a tile room with a church-like shape. We were convinced that we had found thier secret "beer chapel," but after finding temperature gagues near the doorway, realized that it was probably some kind of cold storage. It just seemed unusual that a cold storage room would have windows, or such an elaborate shape. From this room we reached the first of roof of the day, which offered us an amazing panoramic of the St. Louis skyline. We could clearly see the old City Hospital just a half mile away, and in the other direction the Budweiser and Lemp Breweries reminded us of how important the production of beer was and continues to be to St. Louis. As we looked back in to the complex, we noticed that the roof of one of the buildings had completely caved in, and taken the uppermost floors with it! There are still parts of the staircases that are left hanging, dangling stories above the floor. We didn't try those staircases.

We then visited some of the other buildings in the complex. As we descended a stairwell and into a hallway, we realized that it was taking us underneath the street. The Brewery had buildings on both sides of the street, and I guess this was how they went back and forth. The building across the street was fairly uninteresting, mainly just a lot of fermenting tanks on every floor, so much so that they began to look exactly alike.

Back across the street, we found one of the highlights of the trip. Wandering a hallway, I found a piece of paper on the ground. As I turned it over, Chris realized that it was a Falstaff stock certificate. We were both pondering where this could come from when we turned a corner into the next room and our question was immediately answered. It appeared that every piece of paperwork that Falstaff had ever collected could be found in this one room. There were more file boxes and piles of moldy and decomposing paper and shelves of books than I had ever seen in one place. The room was easily the size of a small gym, and boxes were stacked as high as our heads in some places. While much of the paperwork was in pretty bad shape, there was a fair amount that remains pretty intact.

Later on, Chris and I found another room with church-like qualities. It seemed to be some kind of lobby or reception area, and the ceiling looked like something you'd see in an art museum, with columned arches. This was the only area of the entire brewery that looked like this, which made it all the more interesting. The plaster was crumbling many places, and the wood paneling seemed to be falling apart, but it was interesting to imagine what this room would have looked like in it's prime.

The Falstaff Brewery was, without a doubt, the most interesting and massive site that I have explored to date. We spent hours getting lost in the mazes of hallways and rooms that it provided, and I still feel like there is much to see. I know of no future plans for the site. One part of it is being used in some respect, most likely for some kind of shipping dock. The rest, sadly, will continue to deteriorate. That, or the city will make it into lofts. The seem to be doing that quite a bit lately.

Our fitting conclusion to this memorable day was our outstanding dinner at O'Malley's Irish Pub. My cheese burger was top notch, and Chris assurses me that his roast beef au jus was as well.