1 of 2
Photograph by Thomas Crone
The Armour Meatpacking Plant.
2 of 2
Photograph by Thomas Crone
The Armour Meatpacking Plant.
There might be something in the air regarding urban exploration; let’s blame it on spring temperatures and the human need to get into the wider world after our unusual warm-then-cold-then-reverse-it winter. Just yesterday, Danny Wicentowski of the Riverfront Times posted a first-person experience about his runs into the abandoned world with “the baddest crew of urban explorers” in town. It’s not a competition, though, since there’s plenty of room for every crew to find their own satisfaction.
One particular place, though, has offered a powerful call to all urban explorers in the region, as well as a host of artists from abroad who’ve found beauty in the chaos.
While derisively called “ruin porn” by many, there’s no doubt that arresting images have been created by a host of St. Louisans (and lots and lots and lots of visitors) after trips to the Armour Meatpacking Plant in National City, Illinois, just north of East St. Louis and a quarter-mile east of the well-travelled Route 3. Above the tree line, two massive smokestacks have sat for decades, visual totems of a space long since removed from industrial meat production.
The website Built St. Louis says that “Three ruinous sites bear witness to the former role of East St. Louis and its surrounding towns as a pivotal center for meatpacking, as well as the tens of thousands of jobs that were lost as industry and transportation evolved beyond the facilities that operated here. Chief among them is the Armour Meatpacking Plant, abandoned for over 50 years. Its stands in utter ruin; it is legendary in urban exploration circles as the most spectacular wreck in the entire region, a mecca for those who visit abandoned buildings...
“But industry needs changed, and faced with both the demands of an organized labor force, an increasingly aged facility, and an industry moving towards decentralization, Armour chose to relocate to elsewhere in the Midwest. The plant was closed in 1959 and "donated" to the city of East St. Louis. Since then, entire buildings have collapsed, brick has crumbled, roofs rotted away, and a forest has grown up around the plant. No efforts have been made to clear the land for any reuse; it remains an icon of the area's deterioration and a beacon for explorers of ruins.”
Over time, I’ve been one of those, even writing about it for stlmag.com for my first piece in a series of explorations in 2012. Chris Naffziger, a colleague on this blog, has also been by-and-through. And editor Stefene Russell visited with large-scale painter Cindy Tower, an experience that’s about a decade old now.
Soon, there won’t be new experiences there, according to those in the know.
The Armour plant is apparently under demolition. Though it’s hard to tell, considering the condition of many of the buildings, which have long been decaying through wind, snow, rain, sun and a complete lack of defenses against all of those. Last week, bulldozers were ripping down trees along the perimeter and a large group of very-official-looking vehicles were found in the back of the complex. The site, we’re told, has been acquired by the Illinois Department of Transportation, which plans to take the Armour down, planning ahead for further/future development and infrastructure needs.
Recent roadwork’s already pushed up to the edge of the facility, and highway work’s a constant in that area of the East Side. Through all the work to date, the Armour’s been standing, if unsteadily, on the horizon. Those who’ve explored there, with each visit, have wondered if it would be the last, as the self-demolition of the building’s has been accelerating every year, with entire buildings exposed by collapsed outer walls. It’s been, quite-honestly, a tad scary, at times, to access the place, though always worth it due to the sheer size of the complex.
As a colleague in the activity recently said, “it’s like the death of UE in St. Louis,” due to the centrality of the structure and, forgive the overstatement, the welcoming nature of the place: unlike others, which require “creative” entering techniques, the Armour was always open and available, even if one, particular, possibly-self-appointed guard was known to hassle the bigger, louder groups.
Here’re some pics from through the years. ‘Twas fun.
