Here we have a photographic exploration of an abandoned warehouse-type structure done way back in the summer of 2003. I'm writing this in December 2008. In the interim, the building was demolished. That's not surprising, of course; what's surprising is that I took so long to post this stuff. My excuse is that it's such an anonymous building that identifying it was nearly impossible, and it languished in my files, a stack of reasonably good-quality exploration photos, until it occurred me to ask for reader input. Only then did the remarkably well-informed Tim Chrismer pop up to give me the details on this fairly interesting wreck--including, unfortunately, that it's been knocked down.
As you can tell at the top of the page, the Agri-Care Fertilizer Manufacturing Plant is one of those very long metal warehouse buildings that are nearly impossible to photograph from the side. Even from all the way across East Fifth Avenue and halfway down an opposing driveway, it takes two photos to get it all in. It was located, incidentally, at 3355 East Fifth in Columbus, far out in the industrial east side, very close to Stelzer Road and the Airport.
You can also tell that it wasn't in the best of shape when I had the chance to slip inside for a look around; in many places the corrugated-steel walls had fallen off in panels or were peeled back at the corners, and numerous doors of all sizes stood wide open. The perfunctory perimeter fence had no gate at all.
Surrounding the place were various tanks, among them a big one for propane and others for what I can only assume are purposes related to agri-business. The one pictured above held sulphuric acid, so they must have been doing more than just shoveling animal shit. Of course, modern fertlizers are full of all sorts of chemicals.
A railroad siding alongside the building indicates that they loaded the fertilizer into train cars and shipped it off. The EPA listed its function in 2000 as "Fertilizer (Mixing Only) Manufacturing)."
And here we see an office trailer outside on the property. Were they using it to oversee the dismantling process after the place was condemned? I think it was obviously in use to some degree when they were mixing and manufacturing fertilizer here, if only because of the cool sign on the trailer's side: 537 days without a lost time accident! I guess if the guy just put pressure on his gushing wrist stump and finished out his shift before going to have the hand reattached, that accident didn't count. It's all about the bottom line, people!
Here we have a boring photo of section 28, cordoned with caution tape that clearly calls it a construction zone, so apparently they were doing some kind of work at the end (fixing the ceiling?). When I explored the place I found it to be two very long rows of stall-style bins that contained what looked like trace amounts of grain. I'm sure grain is used to manufacture fertilizer, though probably not the quality stuff, so maybe this makes sense. Anyway, the bins were numbered, and though the flash doesn't penetrate well, that's what you're looking at here.
Here's one hell of an intimidating pipe. In addition to the nearly empty stall bins, and the inevitable offices at one end of the building, it was filled with a wide array of rusty metal junk I couldn't identify very often.
And then there was the more obvious stuff, like the conveyor track with metal casters, pictured below.
One reason the photos are so cloudy and indistinct beyond a certain distance is that the place was filled with a constant level of suspended dust of some kind, probably something cancerous that's even now with me in the form of a life-shortening lung tumor. I think we breathed through our shirts most of the time, though, so maybe I'll make it into my thirties. Actually I think it must have been grain dust, because it had that smell.
Agri-Care Inc. only owned the plant until 1994, when it was purchased by Vigoro Industries (aka Royster-Clark, aka Crop Production Services), and since they're an agri-business firm, that seems to make a little more sense. (Did you know that Royster-Clark has been in business since 1872? Apparently they are the real deal in large-scale farm work.)
As abandoned buildings go, warehouse types aren't the most exciting. But what made this one uniquely fun was what was to be found above the grain stalls and empty offices, at the top of various staircases: a uniquely complex and reassuringly sturdy network of catwalks.
Climbing one set of stairs might take you to a little office, but more often you could pass it up and join one of the three or four courses of handrail-lined suspended catwalks that overlooked operations on the floor. Some were just above the tops of the bins, while others traced dizzying paths just below the ceiling.
One catwalk even ran the length of the raised peak of the roof, allowing for views through the side vents as well as far below to your possible death.
They're not all easy to make out in the photos, and I have precious few that even came out very well. (It's difficult to take flash photos in a darkened building this cavernously big with so much dust in the air.) But take my word for it, running the catwalks was fun. There were places where you could throw safety to the wind and actually jump from one to the other.
Strange as it may sound, exploring this fertilizer warehouse was very fun. I only regret that I didn't push harder to learn more about the place much earlier, so I could have provided it as a possible destination for other people to risk their lives and lungs in.
