Our platform is the most extensive digital repository of the Northeast's historic, at-risk, and overlooked structures, infrastructure, New York City streets, and other locations.
Abandoned Pigeon Church: Forgive Us For Our Trespass
Get link
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
Pulpit Views
Forgive Us Dear Lord For Our Transgressions...
Finding this abandoned church of worship was pretty easy. The exact location of this former house of worship would surprise many urban explorers. It's located right in the heart of a rather busy neighborhood surrounded by so many changes. I won't go into detail on the history of this place since it is quite a gem once inside. Let us begin on my mission to get inside this place of God.
It took me four scouting missions to finally realize that what I thought was the entrance was not actually the entrance until on my third scouting mission I realized there was the entrance on the other side staring me in the face. From then, I knew I had to explore this church on all days of the week; a Sunday. The day of rest and worship. The irony finally came to me while drafting this exploration report.
Upper Balcony View
Pulpit
Center of Religious Indoctrination aka Central bimah
Once inside this grand and former religious institution, I was joined by a different flock of congregants. They made their presence known cooing and flapping around my head as daylight began to trickle inside. I could already tell that these faithful pigeons had made it inside their home. Large quantities of pigeon feces were everywhere. It would take large and extensive renovations to fix this epic mess. The pigeons had already made a cozy home within the holes of the roof. Plaster and roofing materials had already come down in some places. Looking up you good see this church was a grand and beautiful house where many came to worship. The elaborate banister and ceiling tiles on the ground floor were intricate and symbolic. Seating numbers were etched in seating cushions.
Numbered Seating Arrangements
Once majestic ceiling.
Views from the middle of church seating.
One point of note was there was no awful graffiti as some abandoned churches have been desecrated by unmoved artists angering local and historical preservationists to no end. No piping or artifacts seemed to have been absconded with into the night. A large selection of religious texts was still on shelves and down in the basement many more were sitting unopened. As the many pictures showcasing this "church", I took no pictures of the basement. Why do you ask? Well, down in the basement I came across some rather large rodents scuttling around without fear. I quickly took some video and headed back up. No rodent was going to fight me for pictures.
Beautiful architecture.
Church selfie? Am I going to hell?
Much of the property stood as the day the doors were finally closed to the last of the faithful congregants. Drapes were still in place and religious texts covered in mounds of pigeon feces lay open with no one to read from them to the ears of the faithful. I would assume the sacred and most cherished prized possession of this institution was probably removed a long time ago. I certainly didn't look for it.
Where I like to sit in church most of the time.
When the religious literature puts you in a state of eternal slumber.
Seating pews gave phenomenal views all around wherever you sat for worship. The rounded seating gallery arrangement was added for the women.
In the end, only time will tell what happens to this property. The ravenous appetite of property developers will have to wait a little longer as the property deteriorates even further by the elements until demo day arrives. Let us forgive those who trespass against us...
As I recall that April day in 2018, the memory unfolds with the vividness of a carefully preserved photograph. The sky, a vast expanse of unyielding blue, served as the perfect backdrop for our excursion. J and I, driven by curiosity and a keen sense of adventure, stood at the threshold of the historic Ballouville Mill in Killingly, Connecticut. This relic of a bygone industrial era was nestled imposingly between two homes as if guarding the secrets of its storied past. Our entry into the mill was less an act of intrusion and more a gentle push through time's veil. An opening – not quite a door, nor a window – beckoned us into the heart of a forgotten world. Inside, the mill presented itself as a cathedral of industry, now silent and solemn. Wooden beams and columns, like the ribs of a great leviathan, stretched upwards, supporting the weight of history and time. The machinery, once the pulsing heart of this place, had long since ceased their hum of productivity. In their absence
In the realm of industrial history along the Passaic River in Northern New Jersey lies a captivating tale of an oil company's struggle for survival against the evolving landscape of progress. Amidst the modernization of Route 21 in the 1950s, the Riverbank Petroleum Company later renamed to Northern New Jersey Oil Company stood as a fierce opponent to the development. Their existence pivoted on the river's access, a lifeline for their business. Relinquishing it meant demise, so they fiercely contested the eminent domain battles. Ultimately, a compromise was reached: a tunnel beneath McCarter Highway, enabling oil transportation without disrupting the flow of the newly expanded route. Riverbank Petroleum Company Wharf had its last recorded shipment of under 2,000 tons of fuel oils in 1997. Time has seen the oil company fade into history, leaving behind an abandoned, flooded tunnel. However, a peculiar sight remains – a doorway, a relic from the past, etched onto the side of Rou
Rockaway Metals Products (RMP) began as a sheet metal fabrication factory beginning in 1961. RMP occupied the site from 1971 to 1987 leaving a plethora of hazardous waste materials onsite. From 1990 to 2004 the building housed various tenants which even included an auto repair shop. Rockaway Metals a manufacturer of filing cabinets and other metal products closed down in 1987. It was leased a few years ago to different owners who did not manage the 4.85-acre parcel. The 155,000-square-foot building has long been an eyesore and trouble in the neighborhood since its closure. A coastal storm in March 2018 blew debris materials to adjacent properties. Rockaway Metals was acquired by Nassau County in 1995 by tax deed. The county has held onto the property for 22-plus years. In February 2011, the site was damaged by fire and condemned soon thereafter. For more in-depth legal ownership of the property, you can read more below in the source list under U.S. v. 175 INWOOD ASSOCIATES LLP.
Here we find ourselves, reminiscing about the now abandoned factory walls that once pulsed with vibrant colors. The irony is delightful and surreal. A property that once contributed world-class paints for an array of applications from household to military-grade, now wears a patchwork of graffiti, as aerosol artists exploit its crumbling facade. Today, the site is cordoned off by a formidable galvanized steel gate, its adjacent grounds appropriated for tractor-trailer parking and storage, while the building itself remains in a state of disuse. Over the years, it has served as a temporary shelter for the homeless, a playground for mischievous teenagers, and a backdrop for adventurous photographers and explorers. Access to the property has now been barred, in stark contrast to a time when you could casually tread the train tracks onto the site. Pittsburgh Plate Glass Company's Newark Operations The property in question, situated at 29 Riverside Avenue in Newark, New Jersey, was hom
From Policemen to Priests: A Timeline of the Precinct-Turned Church In the heart of the Cypress Hills neighborhood of Brooklyn, a piece of the city's history stands resilient against the march of time. The corner of Liberty and Miller Avenue hosts the formidable visage of what was once the 75th Police Precinct Station House. With its 19th-century bones and layered past, this station is a chronicle of the urban evolution, from its humble beginnings as the 17th Police Precinct—boasting a modest band of 38 men—to a bustling precinct accommodating 60 patrolmen, 14 horses, and a curious duo of police cats. This remarkable transition was ushered in by Captain Hugh Frank Gorman and his team on a balmy summer day, June 2, 1982. In its heyday, this precinct governed the largest territory in New York City, a sprawling nine-square-mile jurisdiction stretching from the fringes of Queens County to the town of Flatbush, and from the waters of Jamaica Bay to the county line. Within this labyrin
Comments
Post a Comment