1 of 4
Photographs by Thomas Crone
2 of 4
3 of 4
4 of 4
Urban explorers get stressed about the little things. Wet carpets in a building suggest ticks, mites, and fleas. A barking dog might be a stray, or might be a sentry. A parked police car could mean an officer’s catching a nap, or it could mean an approaching misdemeanor citation. The little things, added up, keep you sharp.
On a couple of recent Sundays, the old Parks College in Cahokia provided a hint of excitement, in different ways. On the second visit, with an exploring partner alongside, a few of Cahokia’s finest drove onto the long-abandoned grounds, taking in... well, it was hard to tell what they were up to. Whether, or not, they realized some urban exploring was underway—they stayed put, allowing for some quality, building-by-building inspection. Judging by the state of those structures, they’ve all been explored repeatedly; nearly every one’s been opened up by previous visitors, who’ve pried open doors and windows with every manner of device. And in the case of a few buildings, the doors are just gone, or they swing open with a gentle touch.
What’s most remarkable about the place is the fact that it’s still standing at all, nearly intact from the time that Parks moved, taking all classroom and support operations to the grounds of Saint Louis University’s Frost campus. The re-purposed military facilities of the old Parks campus became home to thousands of aviation students over a few decades, with the school having a distinct identity from SLU, all the way down to the sports teams that played at the Division III level.
But what was once a soccer field at Parks is now a fallow field. Other changes range from subtle to overt. The cinder-block dorms are still there, and murals are everywhere inside them, from hand-painted Van Halen and Pink Floyd album covers, to Far Side cartoon characters and skeletons. The commissary’s in place, with menu boards intact, but the ceilings have fallen down, with what looks like no small amount of soaked insulation the only thing set out on the tables. The admin building’s there, stacked high with furniture and eerily quiet. And various classrooms are open to viewing, with chalkboard messages still in place from the departure in the early ‘90s of students and instructors.
Very seldom do urban exploration sites offer this type of diversity. A bit of everything’s in place at Parks. Rooftop views from one building. Vines wildly growing through windows in another. Old stickers from KSLQ and KADI radio adorn a broken-off piece of closet. And only a few, stray bits of graffiti line the walls. (Here, we should also note a curiosity: based on two visits, there’s not a single “no trespassing” sign around. Weird.)
The most fun comes when no police are nearby and you’re able to just promenade on the grounds. A few weeks back, with the sun setting and the last of this winter’s snow melting, the Park College campus was as pristine and, somehow, gorgeous as any place in St. Louis for a late-afternoon stroll. The sun was setting behind the trees and bounced off the shattered glass in the windows, creating some wild reflections. Ducks noisily passed overhead. The nearby streets lightly hummed with traffic, but with drivers far enough away to miss a lone figure passing through the campus’ quad.
On days like that, an urban explorer stresses out about the little things, sure, but also feels blessed, lucky, and alive.
