Sunday, November 20, 2011
Abandonment Issues: R.L. Hearn Thermal Generating Station
The R.L. Hearn Thermal Generating Station opened in 1951, providing power to the city of Toronto and beyond. On March 22, 1961, the plant hit full steam so to speak. At full capacity of 1 200 MW, the boilers burned approximately 400 tonnes of coal per hour, and 36 million gallons of Lake Ontario water were also needed hourly to cool the turbines and other equipment. At its peak in the 1960s, the plant employed over 600 people. Hearn was a heavy polluter and contributed to Toronto's smog problem, which continues to be an environmental and health issue to this day. In 1971, the entire plant was converted to burn natural gas, but remained to burn coal in 4 of the 8 units. In 1978-79, units 1-5 were mothballed, and in 1983, due to air pollution and an abundant source of energy across the province, power production ceased. 10 employees remained at Hearn until 1995, manning the electrical control room, operating some of the generators as synchronous condensers to improve Toronto's power quality.
In 2002, the boilers and other equipment were removed in anticipation of a new lease with Studios of America, who planned to build a massive film studio on site, but the deal fell through. However, Studios of America still has a lease to this day with Ontario Power, with a duration between 20 and 32 years, depending on which party you ask. Many films and television shows have been filmed at Hearn in recent years, and it has become a playground for urban explorers and photographers.
As alluring as Hearn may be, it also presents a plethora of dangers. On June 15, 2008, a fellow urban explorer was trespassing on site, when he fell three stories into a coal chute where he was trapped for three hours, pinned under a steel plate. Unfortunately, he succumbed to his injuries and died in hospital two days later.
This post is dedicated to the memory of that explorer, and his loved ones.
R.I.P. Ryan Nyenhuis.
Our first pilgrimage to Hearn in February of 2011 was a scouting mission that went all wrong. Face to face with security is a bad way to start a scout. It left a sour taste in both of our mouths but taught us many valuable lessons that have helped us greatly in all of our explorations this year.
And here we stand, finally inside the belly of the beast, tense in the present tense. jerm and Ninja IX, with our tour guide, a fellow explorer named Skootles. Our introductions are brief and incomplete when out of nowhere Skootles dodges behind a pillar, kicking up dust, and we do likewise instinctively. A man is standing across the building, glaring in our direction. We assume he is the security guard that patrols the property 24/7, and we become mannequins. We peek and creep around corners, hoping to avoid him as he gets closer and closer. We take a wrong turn and pin ourselves in a corner. We whisper and plot, gesturing with our hands. He saw me peek out just now, I know he did. We locked eyes. To our surprise, he passes us by and we quickly venture deeper into Hearn.
Filming had just wrapped for the new Resident Evil Retribution movie, and a small crew of workers is dismantling the set. We make it to one of the control rooms, which is still covered in faux snow and Commie propaganda from the movie set. Then we silently and stealthily traverse the staircases and catwalks. My crippling fear of heights overwhelms me, but with the encouragement and support from Ninja and Skootles, I keep putting one foot in front of the other, hanging on for dear life, gripping the dust covered handrails with white knuckles and sweaty palms. Endless stories above the crew on ground level, we continue to ascend the metal staircases. I have the shakes. My dirty palms are sweating profusely and my heart is pounding out of my chest. The crew remains oblivious to our presence high above, although we remain vigilantly aware of their movements. Stepping out onto the sub roofs, the cold air chills my sweaty face and hands. After walking most of the catwalks and stopping in all of the control rooms, we plan our final ascension to the roof. The importance of support from fellow explorers cannot be overstated, as considerations are made to accommodate my fear of heights, and we retrace our steps to our entry point, where a concrete staircase leads us to the roof. A strong wind blows my long hair into my face, as we enjoy snacks, conversation and the views of the beautiful skyline of downtown Toronto, and Lake Ontario.
turbine hall of fame
turbine hollow
pillars of the community
lurking in the shadows
age against the machine
everything but the kitchen sink
dust collector 1-8
proportional band
out of order
the peelers
T.
subrooftopping
office space
kilograms per second
out of control room
pushing buttons
up up and away
fear factory
fear of heights
here we go again
i do my little thing on the catwalk
red tape
Please hang up and try your call again. This is a recording.
cracked pipe
heaven spot
don't look down
control room
360
wheel of fortune
dialed in
inter-office memo Oct 8/76
prop-aganda
Resident Evil Redemption prop
lever me alone
A2 A1
The view of downtown Toronto from the roof of Hearn
smoke stack clouds
the ghosts of ninja IX & skootles
on the road again
Thank you for taking the time to explore Hearn with us, and a special thanks to skootles for the guided tour.
click here to check out all of jerm & ninja IX's ABANDONMENT ISSUES
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Abandonment Issues: Marilyn Bebee & Michael Howreluk House
In a matter of minutes after spotting the wet footprint in the illuminated basement, and running from the light in the Angel with a Crown of Thorns House, we come across yet another abandoned house.
We are greeted by a partially collapsing porch, somehow still holding the weight of a giant rusted freezer and other appliances. As soon as I step up though, a soggy warped board snaps under my 190 pound frame. I catch myself with a little footwork and dance backwards into Ninja's arms, avoiding possible injury. We step back again. A symphony of crackling maple leaves accompanies our every step like a crispy Premier Gang Starr beat. Crackle crackle thump, crackle crackle thump. I photograph the front of the house, which is oddly void of windows.
Around back, we hope for any easier point of entry, which we encounter. Only to quickly discover that the kitchen floor has collapsed and further entry from this point is too hazardous.
Dinner is served
Eve r y thi n g F a l l s Apa r t
Another brick in the floor
Back out front, a pick-up truck flies by, and a man with a beard longer than mine waves at us as we step over the threshold, waving back at him. Cold war era appliances and empty 80s cola war cans first steal my attention.
Cola War Cans
Stove top nose drop
TIME OFF HOURS COOK
Ye olde hand crank
An envelope on the floor draws my fingers toward it as if magnetically, seeking out the needle in the chaos of clutter. It is addressed to Michael Howreluk. A shiver rises up my spine as i remove and unfold the page, which is dated February 16, 1982.
"...Who is Michael Howreluk?"
"I don't know but in 1982 he owed $646.70 to Texaco Canada..."
Several dated personal possessions are strewn about the floor of the entire house, everything from children's toys to women's shoes. Life seemingly stopped here in the 1980s. A teenage boy's Bauer hockey skate rests in peace atop a torn apart 30 cent copy of Mechanix Illustrated, dated September 1967. In a play room upstairs, a train set is dismantled and off track amongst boxes for race tracks and a Slavia 630 Standard air rifle. I spot and race toward an Etch A Sketch on the floor in the far corner, only to discover that it too seems to have died in the 80s. I continue to turn the poles that are missing their knobs, etching my invisible image, an abandoned house on the horizon, the place I am standing.
"...Howreluk, is that Czechoslovakian, this air rifle box says it is made in Czechoslovakia?"
"I'm not sure, but who the hell was Marilyn Bebee?"
Sinderella
This skate has been out almost as long as Crosby
Upstairs in the play room
Violence of the lambs
slavia 630 standard
TRAINS
Its in the bag
Unmastered bedroom
Medicine cabinet habit
Etch A Sketchy
Etch A Sketch 4S
"...Marilyn who?"
"This school workbook, all of the assignments are dated 1939, Bunker Hill School, and signed by a Marilyn Bebee."
Assignments in math and English penciled onto lined paper 72 years before I'm standing here flipping the pages. Line after line of cursive writing, with gradual improvement in size, shape and style over the course of the year. William Blake's 'The Lamb' is etched in the innocent penciled print of a young girl. On the opposite page a very young Marilyn Bebee's letter writing exercise reads as follows.
Bunker Hill School,
January 16, 1939
The Manager,
Avonlea Farm
Toronto, Ont.
Dear Sir;
We are learing about dairing in our Science lessons. We should like to visit your farm any day after school. Please let us know soon if we may come, and on what day.
Yours truly,
Marilyn
Marilyn Bebee's 1939 Bunker Hill School workbook
Year 1939 - Flowers, Roots and Vegetables.
William Blake's THE LAMB
This post is dedicated to Marilyn Bebee & Michael Howreluk, however it may find them, in life or in memory.
click here to check out all of jerm & ninja IX's ABANDONMENT ISSUES
We are greeted by a partially collapsing porch, somehow still holding the weight of a giant rusted freezer and other appliances. As soon as I step up though, a soggy warped board snaps under my 190 pound frame. I catch myself with a little footwork and dance backwards into Ninja's arms, avoiding possible injury. We step back again. A symphony of crackling maple leaves accompanies our every step like a crispy Premier Gang Starr beat. Crackle crackle thump, crackle crackle thump. I photograph the front of the house, which is oddly void of windows.
Around back, we hope for any easier point of entry, which we encounter. Only to quickly discover that the kitchen floor has collapsed and further entry from this point is too hazardous.
Dinner is served
Eve r y thi n g F a l l s Apa r t
Another brick in the floor
Back out front, a pick-up truck flies by, and a man with a beard longer than mine waves at us as we step over the threshold, waving back at him. Cold war era appliances and empty 80s cola war cans first steal my attention.
Cola War Cans
Stove top nose drop
TIME OFF HOURS COOK
Ye olde hand crank
An envelope on the floor draws my fingers toward it as if magnetically, seeking out the needle in the chaos of clutter. It is addressed to Michael Howreluk. A shiver rises up my spine as i remove and unfold the page, which is dated February 16, 1982.
"...Who is Michael Howreluk?"
"I don't know but in 1982 he owed $646.70 to Texaco Canada..."
Several dated personal possessions are strewn about the floor of the entire house, everything from children's toys to women's shoes. Life seemingly stopped here in the 1980s. A teenage boy's Bauer hockey skate rests in peace atop a torn apart 30 cent copy of Mechanix Illustrated, dated September 1967. In a play room upstairs, a train set is dismantled and off track amongst boxes for race tracks and a Slavia 630 Standard air rifle. I spot and race toward an Etch A Sketch on the floor in the far corner, only to discover that it too seems to have died in the 80s. I continue to turn the poles that are missing their knobs, etching my invisible image, an abandoned house on the horizon, the place I am standing.
"...Howreluk, is that Czechoslovakian, this air rifle box says it is made in Czechoslovakia?"
"I'm not sure, but who the hell was Marilyn Bebee?"
Sinderella
This skate has been out almost as long as Crosby
Upstairs in the play room
Violence of the lambs
slavia 630 standard
TRAINS
Its in the bag
Unmastered bedroom
Medicine cabinet habit
Etch A Sketchy
Etch A Sketch 4S
"...Marilyn who?"
"This school workbook, all of the assignments are dated 1939, Bunker Hill School, and signed by a Marilyn Bebee."
Assignments in math and English penciled onto lined paper 72 years before I'm standing here flipping the pages. Line after line of cursive writing, with gradual improvement in size, shape and style over the course of the year. William Blake's 'The Lamb' is etched in the innocent penciled print of a young girl. On the opposite page a very young Marilyn Bebee's letter writing exercise reads as follows.
Bunker Hill School,
January 16, 1939
The Manager,
Avonlea Farm
Toronto, Ont.
Dear Sir;
We are learing about dairing in our Science lessons. We should like to visit your farm any day after school. Please let us know soon if we may come, and on what day.
Yours truly,
Marilyn
Marilyn Bebee's 1939 Bunker Hill School workbook
Year 1939 - Flowers, Roots and Vegetables.
William Blake's THE LAMB
This post is dedicated to Marilyn Bebee & Michael Howreluk, however it may find them, in life or in memory.
click here to check out all of jerm & ninja IX's ABANDONMENT ISSUES
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