Death of the Paper City

For much of the 20th century Kalamazoo was known as the paper city, The Kalamazoo Valley having more paper mills than anywhere else in the world. Several of these mills developed into huge complexes producing everything from book paper to wax paper. However, by the early 2000s nearly all the mills had closed, leaving their massive plants to fall into ruin. The Bryant Paper Mill was certainly the most well known. It was largely demolished several years ago. But two larger complexes remain...



The Kalamazoo Paper Company was the first mill in the area, established in 1866. Its early mill was located south of the city, but in 1892, under the direction of Samuel Gibson, the company started building mills on the east side. By the end of the 20th century these new mills had grown into a massive jumble of buildings producing 400 tons of paper a day. In 1967 it was purchased by Georgia Pacific and closed in 2000.



Further down the Kalamazoo River, Jacob Kindleberger constructed the Kalamazoo Vegetable Parchment Company in 1918 and laid out the town of Parchment around it. The complex, producing wax paper, was expanded in 1923 and stretched for nearly a mile. "The world's model paper mill" was eventually bought out by Crown Vantage and, like Kalamazoo Paper, closed in 2000. Ironically, the town of Parchment fought another paper manufacturer who wished to reopen the mill so that the city could build a golf course. The city won in court but the golf course development fell through.



I had visited both mills previously. I had no particular plans for going back, but considering that my planned trips for the past two weekends didn't pan out they ended up being spent paper milling.



The first series of photos show the Kalamazoo Paper Company, which is currently under demolition. This complex includes several buildings, the largest being Mills 1 and 3. Mill 1 is still mostly intact, Mill 3 not so much. Even so, my partner and I made our way across the snow and ice covered bridge and hiked to the bridge.





I hadn't been here in a while. I am amazed that the mills have survived up to their destruction with so little vandalism. Kalamazoo's two well-known abandoned sites, Bryant and the TB hospital are/were tagged to hog heaven. Nothing really new besides some sections missing.



The paper mills all have standard layouts but also have their unique qualities. The complexes were generally typical 19th century mill construction with gabled rooflines and segmental arched openings. At Bryant this architecture was little modified up to the end. Mill 1 of KVPC also reflects this style. The mills of KPC, however, were a series of additions, almost entirely wrapping the lovely 19th century structures within a modern blue cocoon.



Each company had its own powerhouse, that being the only thing left of Bryant currently. KPC's is connected to Mill 1 and basically is a lovely explorer's jungle gym of levels, pipes, and machines. The long coal room wins the award for my favorite space of the whole complex. The turbine rooms are nice too.



Past the powerhouse the familiar paper mill scheme takes hold. The paper machine rooms were huge, and identifyable by the giant holes the the floor, looking into the basement. The paper machines themselves are gone, mostly. Between these spaces you find multi-leveled warehouse space.



The basements are a labyrinth of columns, tanks, pipes, and brick arches. These paper mills are among the few industrial buildings I have seen with basements.



The aspect of Mill 3 that sets it apart is a 6-story Kahnesque warehouse with really really short floors. It looked like Fisher Body 21 had gone through the dryer and come out 30% smaller.



But, as noted before, much of Mill 3 is already gone. The field of rubble was covered in a lovely, peaceful blanket of snow. Within a few months nothing will remain of one of the region's most significant industrial sites.





The following day I made my way to Parchment to have a look at the Mill 2 complex of the KVPC. This complex was largely built in the 1920s, giving it a more uniform appearance than the KPC and a more modern appearance than Bryant.



Access was more difficult than need be and after an encounter with a pack of feral cats I examined the offices and labs. Nothing too exciting.



These connected to a 3-story mill building with a cupola, the company's print shop. Again, not too exciting. I noted that the metal staircases had the company's logo stamped into the steps. Nice.



From there it was the main mill, which is HUGE and stretches on and on.



A unique aspect of this mill are the ramps throughout, allowing vehicles to access all floors with ease. Tracks indicated that vehicles had been through recently. Could it be that the contracters still are removing equipment? Mayhaps, demo contractors are sizing up their next job?



Like KPC, there is an area of martini Kahnesque columns and a very low ceiling. Being so used to Studebaker, etc, it is just odd.





Continuing through the dim basement, I found more staples of paper mills, giant tanks that once held all kinds of tasty chemicals. Otherwise, the contractors did their job of removing the paper machines, so that the mill could never be reopened. Yeah, too bad the golf thing fell through in the end. oops.



The first, second, and third floors were more airy, with large sash windows and sawtooth roofs. Basically, it was Any1920sfactory until...



At the center of the mill I found the two huge paper machine rooms, long halls-side-by side.



In one, pictured above, the machines were long gone. The other still had large sections of the block-long machines intact, awaiting the scrap heap.



Past the paper machines and a dark warehouse I came upon the most surprising interior of the whole mill, a huge cathedral space, once containing a hoist. The massive room was bizzarely lit with a mix of natural light and a strong shade of green due to the upper window coverings and the open loading doors.



Beyond it lay one last cathedral space, a more conventionally lit hall with a truck ramp to the basement. The old KVP logo is still visible on an interior brick wall.



Having reached the end of the mill, I made my way through the snow to the powerhouse. Given how cool the rest of the complex is, I was expecting so much more. Sadly I found it to pale in comparison to its counterparts at KPC and especially Bryant. Well, it redeemed itself when I found the boiler room, which rises 6-stories fully climbable with catwalks. yip yip! Damn me for not bringing my wide-angle lens that day! And with that the sun was setting on the day's exploring, not to mention the paper city.

On another note, this will be my last post for a while. I'm heading to Europe for the month of March. Even with internet access, I think blogging will be a low priority until I get back.

Sainthood

My time in Indiana is drawing to a close, so I'll dig out some old photos of one of my better finds. These are from last spring, and for various reasons I did not post them.



Driving into downtown Indianapolis I would pass the vacant complex that was formerly St. Vincent Hospital. It includes a large main building, smaller secondary hospital, powerplant, and various additions. In the 1970s these buildings were converted into low-income housing after the hospital build a new complex in the suburbs. The apartments closed a few years ago.





Well, one day I was driving by and noticed that sections of its ornamental copper cornice were missing. I knew that scrappers were at work, that the building was open. Since I always travel with camera and flashlight I abandoned my social plans for the day and turned the car around.



Sure enough I was soon inside and making my way to the roof. I moved quietly, expecting to find scrappers at work. Adding to the fun was the constant beeping of hundreds of dying smoke detectors.



Inside were hundreds of modern apartments. The hospital had been gutted. Some of these looked like the occupants had just disappeared one day. Furnishings and other belongings were left behind. I even found dirty dishes in the sinks. I guess that they had no reason to clean them. Other apartments looked clean and new.



Some had been created out of larger spaces of the old hospital, resulting in interesting architecture.



As I approached the end of one corridor I detected a very foul odor. I came upon an apartment that was so crammed with garbage that I had no room to walk. :P



The stairwells still retained the old look and came in a variety of designs.









I couldn't help but wonder, what happened to these people, where did they go?







Approaching the lower levels I found more traces of the hospital's original architecture. I also found evidence to support my scrapper theory, carts filled with scrap near the stairwells.



Hours later, my heart pumping wildy from the excitment of the discovery, I emerged from the damp and dark interior and breathed in the welcome spring air. I would eventually make a return trip later that spring, seeing even more of the complex. Fast-forward to present and the buildings are now sealed. The copper cornice, however...

Hazy Shade Of Winter

While everyone else spent Sunday watching unfunny commercials in their warm living rooms I braved the sub-zero temperatures to show Brad the Fort Shelby Hotel. Needless to say, we had the whole place, and nearly the whole city, to ourselves.



Boy, it was cold. I had never been so cold in my life. Extra layers of clothing helped, as did heating pads, but still. I am amazed that at least two of us survived. We lost twelve men that day, all frozen in their tracks. Ok, that I made that part up.



But it was worth it. Always nice to steal one more look of that lovely hotel. I had a new lens to test out within her friendly confines. And it was nice to be able to share my fav building with at least one of my non-Detroit friends. Especially nice, as she is the last of her kind.



From the roof, ungodly frigid, we took in the view of the formerly abandoned Book-Cadillac Hotel, now teeming with construction activity. I dunno. My memories of that place are so engrained. There will always be a giant abandoned hotel at the corner of Michigan and Washington Blvd.



Next door a wrecking ball happily pounded away at the People's Outfitting Company. Many of its eastern bays have already vanished. Detroit rises! ... in the form of a parking garage with some stucco and ugly condos plopped on top. um :P



From the penthouse we made our descent, stopping at a few key floors to give Brad as much a sampling of the building as possible.



Overall, he got to see most of the highlights. The unfortunate aspect of winter is that the sun sets too early. Well, that and the deathly cold thing...



In the hotel's third floor upholstry shops I found a stash of houskeeping manuals, complete with entertaining cartoons illustrating, among other things, how to open a window and what the various fixtures of a bathroom look like. You never know, someone may just get that far in life without being able to distinquish the sink from the toilet.



Returning to the lobby, we got our photographs and found a stack of the hotel's classy advertising from its final days. With ads like that, no wonder it closed, and stayed closed for over three decades...



Upon checkout we stumbled half-frozen into Coney. Warm fries and hotdogs never tasted so good.



The blog's second aniversary is coming up, nicely timed with my escape from this Muncie/Hell-limbo. Kinda fitting to send it off with the one building that really occupied the year's center-stage. Well, next year life will be different in many ways. For one, no more Fort Shelby. The one thing I'll miss...