Abandoned Textile Mills of Łódź

As I wrote in my previous article, Łódź, Poland, was once home to immense textile mills, making the city a major industrial center in the late 1800s and early 20th century. The city fell into major decline during the Great Depression and in World War II. During the communist era, the mills continued to function with captive markets in the Eastern Block. But the industry collapsed after the 1989-1990 fall of Communism because the industrial base had not been modernized and became uncompetitive in the international market. But the mill buildings remain. As of 2016, many have been redeveloped into technology centers, loft apartments, or malls. Some have been demolished, and some remain empty and semi-abandoned. Ten years ago, Łódź must have been an urban spelunker's paradise. But now, only a few of the unused mills seem accessible, although I am sure the local urban explorers know the interesting spots to visit.

This is an example of one of the former mills, this one visible from Ulica Przędzalniana. Some of these factory complexes extended for a kilometer. This building is unused, but just to its right (north), another factory had been converted into apartments. (By the way, we had fantastic weather in Poland. I used a polarizing filter to enhance the blue sky.)

This place off Księdza Biskupa Wincentego Tymienieckiego is beyond fixing. Many Polish names are like this - rather difficult for this foreigner to pronounce. Notice the quality of the brickwork. We learned that most of eastern Europe used brick for its industrial and monumental architecture. In western Europe, cathedrals were made of stone, but in eastern Europe, they were usually fantastic brick edifices. The quality of the craftsmanship was amazing. Even in the sewers of Łódź (great underground tour), the brickwork looked like artists embellished it to be visually perfect, even though only the sewer workers would ever see it. Remembers the sewer employees in the 1948 Orson Welles film, "The Third Man?" Similar teams of underground experts worked beneath Łódź. Regardless, that was the era when they built infrastructure to last and were proud of their work - in USA, we could sure use this philosophy.

We drove through a gate to visit this site, but a guard expelled us. No fun here.

This old factory, also off Księdza Biskupa Wincentego Tymienieckiego, may have been undergoing some sort of restoration or conversion.

Finally, across the side street from the previous factory, I found one with a pathway through the undergrowth. Aha, urban spelunkers have been here.

Notice how the original builders used reinforcing rods attached to iron rosettes to hold the walls together.

The stairs and halls were a bit intimidating, but they were reinforced concrete and still massive.

Amazing workrooms with concrete pillars. Three floors were reinforced like this, obviously designed to hold heavy machinery.

The urban artists have been at work.

The rooms in the tower would make fantastic loft apartments.

Anatewka Restaurant

All right, I couldn't resist. When you are done exploring abandoned factories, visit a pastry shop and have an espresso and pastry. After a few minutes digesting, take in a superb meal at Anatewka, which features classic eastern European Jewish cuisine. Yes, modern Poland is like this.

Click any photograph to expand it. These are digital images from my Fujifilm X-E1 digital camera with the Fuji 18-55mm and 14mm lenses.

Addendum: If you are interested in sewers, the web page sewerhistory.org: http://www.sewerhistory.org/photosgraphics/germany-poland-and-eastern-europe/ has an interesting discussion of sanitary sewer construction and culture in eastern Europe. You better be interested. That is where your stuff goes when you flush the loo.

Courtyards of Łódź

Łódź (in Yiddish, לאדזש‎, Lodzh) is an old textile industrial city in central Poland, about 130 km southwest of Warsaw. Łódź became an industrial powerhouse in the mid-late 19th century, when Jewish industrialists built immense textile mills to process cotton. Before our Civil War, much of the cotton came from the southern United States. The mills continued to thrive until World War II, when much of the production shut down. During the Communist era (1946-1989), the mills had a steady customer base in the Soviet block, but little investment was made in modernizing equipment and production processes. When Communism collapsed in 1989-1992, the mills were obsolete and could not compete in the international market. Many shut down, and Łódź became a grim Polish-style rust-belt city.

However, unlike most cities throughout Poland, Łódź did not suffer much destruction in World War II. The Jewish population was rounded up and exterminated in death camps, but the city did not suffer major bombing or warfare, sparing some amazing early 20th century architecture.

And Łódź is coming back! Because of the immense wealth generated by the textile industry, luxurious mansions coexisted with immense brick factories and old tenement houses. Many of the mills have been redeveloped as high tech think tanks, malls, or hotels. The arts thrive. Mansions have become museums. The main street through town, ulica Piotrkowski, throbs with cafes, restaurants, and boutiques. We were impressed at the activity, although there is still a lot of urban decay throughout the city.

The typical residential apartment in the city consisted of a short frontage along the street with two long arms extending back into the lot, much like a "U" shape. A passageway (tunnel) led into a courtyard, where residents had access to their stairwells. I assume that in the 1800s, latrines may have been located in the courtyards (as described by Isaac Bashevis Singer (Yiddish: יצחק באַשעװיס זינגער‎) in some of his pre-war novels (he was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 1978). The two examples above are passageways off ulica Piotrkowska. The massive iron cones were designed to deflect wagon wheels.

During a recent trip to Łódź, my wife and I booked a couple of nights in Hostelik Wiktoriański at Sienkiewicza 40, near the main tourist area of the revived downtown. Come to find out, the lobby of the hostel faced the main street, but the rooms were in back in the courtyard. It was a bit gray and grimy, and not too welcoming. But the rooms were clean and the plumbing worked, and parking was free (for our tiny rental Opal) so we can't complain too much. A art-house cinema was in the building across the courtyard. I saw stacks of film cans in the lobby, so possibly they are trying to preserve films and project them optically (the old-fashioned way).

These buildings look like they have not had much upgrading over the years other than electrical work. Of course, now there is interior plumbing. And the windows are modern.

Great door. It has survived a century - how many people have passed through it? What drama, tragedy, or hope has it witnessed?

The hallways on the upper floors were pretty dingy. But the buildings had been massively built a century ago.

While I took this picture, a lady on her way to work came down the steps. She looked annoyed at me. She likely figured I was another one of those obnoxious tourists who stayed at the hostel. Sorry, this was too good of a chance to see inside one of these old buildings. 

The square pictures are scans of Kodak Tri-X film that I shot with a Rolleiflex 3.5E camera, equipped with the Schneider Xenotar 75mm ƒ/3.5 lens. I developed the film in Kodak HC-110 developer at dilution "B", 4:30 minutes at 68° F. I posted them at 2,400 pixels wide, so click any frame to see more detail.

From the archives: Vicksburg in 1997 with Agfa Scala film

About 20 years ago, the venerable German photographic company, Agfa, made a black and white transparency film named Scala. It was intended to be projected, meaning to be used for black and white slides that would be projected on a screen. I tried Scala several times and liked it, but did not use it regularly. The Scala was ISO 200 and needed to be processed at a laboratory with the correct Scala chemicals. Possibly you could buy the chemicals for home use, but I never checked. Recently, I rediscovered my 1997-vintage Scala 35mm slides and did a test scan with my Plustek 7600i scanner. They looked really nice and I scanned most of the roll. Here is a semi-random tour of Vicksburg, Mississippi.

In the 1990s, three river boats regularly visited Vicksburg, the Mississippi Queen, the Delta Queen and the American Queen. All three stopped service during the economic downturn of 2007-2009. The Mississippi Queen was cut up for scrap in 2011. The Delta Queen, which was made of wood, can no longer be used for passenger traffic. But the American Queen is now (as of 2016) back in service with regular stops at the Vicksburg waterfront on the Yazoo diversionary canal.

In 1997, the Harrah's Vicksburg Casino was moored in its cofferdam on the canal side of the floodwall. The hotel was on land, but the gambling facilities had to be on floating plant. The subsequent owners of the casino filed for bankruptcy, and the barge is now moored in the Yazoo River near the Ergon petroleum refinery (I assume awaiting scrapping).

Vicksburg's famous Attic Gallery was formerly at 1404 Washington Street above Michael's Jewelry. The Gallery was a great place and packed tight with sculpture, paintings, and stuff. Attic Gallery now is at 1101 Washington Street and almost as tightly packed with interesting things.

This was the steel framing for the Vicksburg Convention Center on Mulberry Street.

This photograph shows some of the earthwork done for the convention center. The Bunge Corporation grain elevator on Levee Street is in the distance, with the Yazoo Canal beyond.

Oak Street is one of Vicksburg's older residential neighborhoods. No. 3517 is an early 20th century duplex.

Pearl Street parallels the railroad tracks. This cottage at 2521 was also a duplex and still had the characteristic split porch pillars that can be seen in many older Vicksburg houses. As of October 2016, this building is still occupied. Many other shotgun shacks and cottages that once lined Pearl Street are gone.

These almost-twin shotgun shacks are at 1300 and 1302 Harrison Street. As of 2016, they are still extant.

An old Plymouth has been parked in the garage of 920 National Street for decades. I have never seen any occupants, but someone maintains the grounds and house, so it is not abandoned.

This is the railroad cut between Belmont and West Pine Streets. I took this photograph on Feb. 3, 1997, just after an ice storm draped the kudzu and branches with ice.

This is North Fisher Street, also draped with ice.

By the time I took this picture of Letitia Street, the ice had already melted from the street.

This little church on Yazoo Street was condemned and scheduled for demolition as of mid-2016.

The cottage at 1101 Stouts Street, near the Yazoo Street church, is also gone.

Finally, we have another duplex cottage at 2729 Alma Street. The house no longer exists, and the lot has reverted to jungle.

Sadly, Agfa is gone, another victim of the digital imaging era. The company was founded in 1867 as Aktiengesellschaft für Anilinfabrikation and renamed Gevaert & Co. in 1894. Once a prominent European manufacturer of film, papers, and chemicals, Agfa-Gevaert sold their consumer imaging division in 2004 to a management buyout. But within a year, the new AgfaPhoto GmbH had filed for bankruptcy, ending over a century of top-quality film and paper manufacture. I still use their Rodinal film developer, which was invented in 1891 by Dr. Momme Andresen. Fortunately, Rodinal is still made, now by Adox, another old-line photo company. How many other 120-year-old consumer products can you buy? Freestyle Photographic Supplies in Los Angeles sells Rodinal as well as Adox and other traditional black and white films, but Scala is gone forever. Shoot more film!

All of these photographs were taken with a Leica M3 rangefinder camera, most with 35mm or 50mm Summicron lenses. I wrote about Leicas in a 2014 post.

Example of a 5-pack of 120-size Scala film. 

Vicksburg from the Archives, 1993-1994, Ektar 25 film

I recently had some old Kodak Ektar 25 film negatives scanned that I exposed in 1993 and 1994. Even with the passage of only 20 years, you can see changes in slow-moving Vicksburg.

Let's take a walk on Washington street and head south. This is the Vicksburg Cafe at 1625 Washington Street, formerly at the corner of Washington and South Madison. I do not remember when the building was torn down. And now I realize why the Warren County library, seen to the left, did not have an entrance on the south side. The architect likely felt there was not enough space for a driveway and entry stairs. But now this is an empty lot, and this side would be a much more suitable entry area for the library than its inadequate and awkward parking lot on Walnut Street. And the library's entrance on the north side of the building is totally useless.

F&G Beverages at 1701 Washington Street has thrived and grown. The drive-through on the left is gone now. Whenever I bicycle by, the store has customers. I better not write what I think of this demonstration of small-town prosperity.

Dollar General has also thrived, but this building at 1713 is gone.

This is the view north from the corner of Washington and Bridge Streets. The former Mississippi Hardware company is in the distance to the left. In World War II, the build housed a fabric and sewing manufacturer.

Nick's Auto Parts, in the old brick corner store (1733 Washington Street), is closed.

The next building south was the Vicksburg Seed store. I recall that several additions or porches on the side were torn down over the years.

This view looking north is over the railroad viaduct.

If you turned east and walked up Belmont Street, from some of the parking lots on the north side, you could look north over the railroad cut. There were once a number of houses and gardens (mini-farms) on the slope. Most are gone now. Some of the shotgun shacks were the classic Vicksburg type where the entrance was level with the road but the back projected out over the slope, supported by wood posts. A retired city engineer told me that these post houses cannot be rebuilt or permitted if they collapse. But they were common in the early 20th century as a way to accommodate the area's complicated topography.

I took these photographs with a FujiFilm GW690II medium-format camera with 90mm ƒ/3.5 Fujinon lens using Kodak Ektar 25 film. This was a fine-grain, contrasty emulsion, and was a bit hard to use but spectacular if you wanted fine detail.