An abandoned amphitheater? Who could resist that?!
Anoka was my next stop on the exploration schedule to check out an old, abandoned amphitheater. With a hat tip to Brendon Maness for the tip, Derrick and I jumped in the car for a quick drive north on 169 and literally almost ran into the amphitheater as it’s a sidewalk away from 169 itself. Bet the traffic noise made for an interesting background to the entertainment folks put on there, back in the day?
My first impression of the amphitheater was an obvious one: this thing has been around a LONG time. The structure was put together back in 1914 on the banks of the Rum River in Anoka. The really interesting part to me is its name: the Windego Park Auditorium and Open-Air Theater. At first, I thought it was Wendigo. Do you know what a Wendigo is? I bet you do if you’re a monster movie buff like me.
The old theater is currently listed in the National Register of Historic Places and had to be a great place to watch a program back then. The location on the bank of the Rum River is beautiful.
Anoka’s citizens back then had a notable interest in outdoor entertainment and recreation. Thaddeus P. Giddings, a promoter of music education who’d been organizing community singalongs in the summer of 1913, took over organizing the programs and entertainment at the amphitheater.
Another gentleman named William Gray Purcell designed the amphitheater, and I thought he did a bang-up job. The stage sits on the flat part of the riverbank, and, as you can see in the pictures, the seats are on the sloping hillside. It had room for an audience of up to 1,600 people in its heyday.
At one time, the seating was covered by a colorful retractable awning system designed to protect patrons from the weather. That had to be a must-have during summertime storms and heat waves, am I right? A curved back wall at one time included a box office, entrance doors, and a projection booth, but that part no longer stands.
The theater was used for amateur plays, historical pageants, and other local community musical or meeting events. However, the theater would only thrive as long as Giddings was on hand. Giddings began spending summers at his music camp located in Michigan, and the amphitheater fell into disuse, with the exception of an occasional gathering.
In 1979, Anne Bronken, a University of Minnesota Landscape Architecture Department student, designed a plan to restore the amphitheater. Community organizers patched the concrete and did some cleanup work. A restoration planned as recently as 2010 didn’t happen. Today, the amphitheater has only its seating and orchestra pit left standing, and both are in a deteriorated state.
Fergus Falls was calling me over the weekend, and that call finally proved irresistible. I’d heard through the grapevine about the ruins of an old dam along the Otter Tail River that collapsed back in the day. Well, I quit listening after the word “ruins” because I already knew I wanted to see “Broken Down Dam Park.”
Folks in that area built what’s called a hydroelectric gravity dam on the river in 1907. The dam was built out of concrete and powered a plant called the Fergus Falls City Light Station. The station provided power to city residents for just a year before disaster struck.
The large concrete dam suddenly collapsed in 1909, and you did not want to be downriver from the massive wall of water that suddenly rushed down the Otter Tail River. Can you image the roar of all that water moving at once?
The dam broke at 4:20 in the morning on September 24, 1909, and the power of all that water releasing at once broke not one, not two, not three, but FOUR other dams downriver. Atlas Obscura says there were reports that the water was so powerful, it picked up a ten-ton generator and threw it into the river. Thankfully, no one died as a result of what was a catastrophe of immense size.
A wiki article (which I was able to validate in several other web pages) says that engineers made a crucial mistake when they constructed the dam. They didn’t conduct a proper site evaluation and wound up building on top of a spring. While I don’t pretend to understand how a spring can flow separately from a river while occupying the same space, it only took a year for the water pressure to build up along the foundations. The rupture washed out the concrete foundation and undermined the structural integrity of the dam, which then collapsed.
The dam broke in the center, and the rushing water first took out the Kirk Dam, which powered the city’s waterworks. The water then took out the Mount Faith Avenue Bridge before sweeping away the Red River Mill Dam and Woolen Mill Dam. Damage to the two mills totaled $15,000, with the damage in today’s economy equivalent to $432,000 in 2020.
Conspiracy theory alert: The Dayton Hollow Dam, five miles southwest of where the dam broke, was saved from destruction. The dam’s owner, Vernon Wright, had enough warning to hustle down there in time to get the floodgates open. The conspiracy? He also was president of the Otter Tail Power Company.
The city of Fergus Falls then hired Otter Tail Power to build transmission lines into town. That helped spawn a local rumor, fueled by the newspaper, that Wright deliberately destroyed the city’s dam by secretly distributing quicksilver from a rowboat to undermine it.
Broken Down Dam Park was established in 1949, an 11-acre parcel of land. When the water level on the Otter Tail River is high, the flow can go fast enough between the blocks of the structure to create Class 3 rapids.
Here is the link to my complete photo album from Broken Dam.
“Anoka State Mental Hospital” – It’s been abandoned since 1999. Just saying the name evokes memories of every single scary movie you’ve watched in recent history, such as those Friday the 13th movies we used to watch as kids. However, like many other abandoned places in the Twin Cities of Minnesota, it seems to be coming back to life.
Some of the buildings are still in rough shape, and those are easy to pick out by the plywood in all the windows. Others are in the process of being renovated, and a couple are used now as veterans’ homes. The first thing that jumped out at me was how BIG the campus is. Lots of large brick buildings got built in the shape of a half-circle. It’s enormous!
The brick buildings have every right to look like they’ve been through a lot: they have. A minnpost.com article says the fourth Minnesota state hospital for the insane opened in 1900. The place was quite different from the other three institutions; the Anoka State Mental Hospital was the first to be built in Minnesota according to the cottage plan. The goal was to reduce the institutional feel of the place for its chronic patients.
They say overcrowding was a big problem at Minnesota’s mental health institutions operating in Rochester, Fergus Falls, and St. Peter. To help alleviate the overcrowding problems, the planning commission chose 650 acres right near the scenic Rum River in Anoka for a fourth site.
Building the hospital got started in June of 1899, and the first 100 patients (all men) were transferred to the facility on March 14, 1900. The facility began to expand in 1905, adding several cottages, as well as farm and service buildings. By 1917, ten cottages, an auditorium, and a new administration formed in a semicircle at the completed facility.
However, like many mental institutions across the country, history wasn’t always a good thing for the facility. A dramatic series of articles exposed some horrible conditions at the hospital in the mid-1900s. State officials became determined to do something about the problem.
The atlasobscura.com website says, on Halloween night in 1949, they held a bonfire on the grounds of the Anoka State Mental Hospital. It must have been a big fire as around 359 straitjackets, 196 cuffs, and 91 straps, all different forms of restraints used on the patients, were destroyed. Governor Luther Youngdahl and other officials used the event to show the world that the facility was moving toward more humane forms of treatment.
Conditions did improve for the patients, thanks to the development of new drugs and institutional reforms. Some unfortunate incidents that compromised community safety around the hospital took place here and there over the next several decades. The Anoka State Mental Hospital closed in 1999, and the patients got moved to a nearby facility.
Old Brewery exploring was something I couldn’t pass up. Exploring Minnesota took me to the south this weekend, stopping in Mantorville to check out the ruins of the old brewery caves. There isn’t a lot left of the old four-story, sandstone structure, but admittedly there’s more than I thought I’d see. The once-proud structure is losing the battle to Mother Nature, as you may imagine.
There doesn’t seem to be a ton of information on the brewery online. One source who seemed to know what they were doing says what’s leftover is actually the second brewery built in Mantorville. The original brewery appears to have been built in 1858, entirely out of sandstone quarried out of the bluff directly behind where the structure was built.
The Dodge County Brewery reach four stories at its pinnacle and produced upwards of 7,000 beer-filled barrels a year at their peak in the late 1800s. Reports say the brewery was fortunate in avoiding so many of the fires that claimed other early breweries that began in Minnesota around the same time.
Two 40 X 70 caves were used to store the aging beer and keep the barrels ice cold. The brewery ran purely on steam power during its lifetime. Only a shell of the building remains, but there is one cooling room still intact.
Like many of the other Minnesota breweries, when Prohibition rolled around, that pretty much ended the business. There was some bootlegging during the dry years. When Prohibition was repealed, they tried to crank up production again. New owner Otto Schuman took over the brewery and ran it as a pop factory. But it wasn’t to be. Even though the brewery had some of the largest and most advanced technology of any brewery in the state, Schuman shut down the factory for good in 1934.
The brewery was partly demolished in 1942. The site did contribute a lot of recovered metal to help the effort in World War 2, but that appears to be its last significant contribution.
Train Depot exploring is something I seriously enjoy. While I do love exploring abandoned structures, it’s a lot of fun to see some of those old buildings redone for use in the present day. I went looking for an old train depot I had heard about in Northfield, Minnesota. I found it, but the “old” depot wasn’t in the shape I expected it to be in.
The building originally dates back to 1888. The depot had an addition built on to it in 1944. The depot’s south wall and roof was removed when the addition was constructed. The building was scheduled for demolition before it was moved but residents didn’t want to lose some of the community’s history. They couldn’t move the new addition because of the cement floor and cement blocks that made up the wall.
Some of the bricks that made up the wall in the new addition were salvaged and are already being used to make a sidewalk path on the new site.
A group of residents started the Save the Northfield Depot project and moved the structure last January. The old depot was literally moved from the railroad property to a site across the street. The original site has since been graded and cleaned up since then. The new site was chosen because it’s much easier to see. The previous location hid the train depot behind a much larger building.
The depot won’t just sit there and look good, either. Plans are in the works to use it as an information center for visitors. As a side note, I took a drive through the downtown area and it’s picturesque in many spots. Highly recommend a trip through there sometime. But I digress.
There will also be a pavilion that residents can use to host events at, as well as an addition for a transit hub, which is a project the city of Northfield will undertake sometime in the near future. A study is in the works on a proposed passenger rail that would connect south to points beyond Minnesota. Northfield would be one of the northernmost stops on the line. The state has even kicked in some money to help fund the study.
Some of their literature I picked up at the site says they’re trying to raise $65,000 for the interior renovation. . The cost could actually be reduced with in-kind materials and labor. They’re also looking for carpenters, plumbers, electricians, and other skilled workers who wouldn’t mind volunteering a little time on the project.
Their website is www.northfielddepot.org. They also have a facebook page at facebook.com/northfielddepot. You’ll also find information on twitter at www.twitter.com/northfielddepot.
Exploration abandoned Army base. The idea set me on fire Sunday morning, and by Sunday afternoon we were hustling to find one of the best exploration options the Twin Cities has to offer. Much more successful than the day before.
Let me say off the top, the three of us had tried to find this place before. I got a tip from a fellow explorer through the Abandoned Minnesota Facebook Page and we were off to the races. It’s called the Twin Cities Army Ammunition Plant, and there was so much more to it that we ever thought. Here’s the first video, with pics and the plant’s history down below.
A mnopedia.org article says the place was first authorized in 1941, making contributions to the nation’s armed forces for the next half a century.
As the U.S. was building up to World War 2, FDR advocated for the U.S. to take the lead as the “Great Arsenal of Democracy.” His aid strategy was laid out in the Lend-Lease Act. It used government-owned, contractor-operated ammo-manufacturing plants to provide supplies overseas.
The Army Ordnance Department authorized construction of what was then called the “Twin Cities Ordnance Plant.” Sporting ammunition manufacturer Federal Cartridge Corporation of Anoka was contracted to run the facility.
Once the place was fully operational, thousands of workers from across the Twin Cities worked around the clock in three shifts
I talk several times about the scale of the entire place during our exploration. Just to give you a sense of how large the base was, mnopedia.org says it actually began to function “like a small city.” The base had it’s own security/police force, hospital system, fire department, bus system, and a rail terminal. There were social elements to help the people feel more together, including a plant newspaper, intramural sports leagues, and even its own choir to help maintain morale.
The initial building we came up to (the subject of the first video) was much larger than we first thought. A couple of the more veteran explorers we’ve run into said it was the actual munitions plant but I have no idea if it’s true or not. It certainly looked big enough, but no matter what, this was the coolest building I’ve been in so far. All it took was a quick duck through a hole in the fence and we were in the front door.
I remember thinking as we walked down the path to that first building, “That’s all there is?” But there was so much more to it. We found what looked like locker rooms, bathrooms, a loading dock near the back, as well as an upstairs to the place. Really a lot of fun! The only thing I didn’t find? Not a single “No Trespassing” sign anywhere.
Those two explorers we talked to said “head east on the path in front of the first building. You won’t believe what you’ll find out there to explore.” They weren’t kidding. I thought the munitions plant building was big. We found a much-larger building to the east, complete with kitchen, multiple full size shower rooms, as well as bunkers, several other smaller outbuildings, and so much more.
By the way, I’ve been looking for a map showing how the buildings were laid out and used. Can’t find one, so if you know differently about something and I’m wrong, drop me a note so I’ll know too?
The most interesting thing to happen when we got to the big building involved long boarders, which I believe are the modern edition of our skateboards we played with growing up. Kylie was taking some video in one of the larger rooms when she heard music playing and had no idea where it was coming from. She played the video back on her phone and as deaf as I am after two-plus decades in radio, I could hear it too.
We’d just watched a found-footage movie called “Sanatorium,” and one of the things the cast found in that big old place was a radio playing music. Why spooky, you ask? It wasn’t plugged in and didn’t have batteries! While I’m not a big believer in the paranormal, I can’t lie and say I wasn’t a little spooked in the back of my mind.
The answer itself was decidedly less spooky. There were teenagers upstairs who were hanging out and playing their tunes.
The other thing we noticed was the debris throughout the largest building had been swept to one side of every hall in the place. “Well that’s strange,” I thought. Turns out, there were a couple young guys there with long boards who either found or brought along a big push broom. While it was making the place look much nicer, the smooth concrete floors made for some excellent long boarding, once all the debris was out of the way. Smart!
At the end of World War 2, the plant began gathering up and storing ammunition for the future. The plant cranked up production for the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and every other conflict that took place over the course of its 50-year existence, even drawing a lot of protesters during the Vietnam War.
Environmental concerns led to an agreement for a big cleanup effort, funded by the Army, which began selling off portions of the property. As near as I can tell, Ramsey County owns the land after buying it in 2013. If there are redevelopment plans in the works, what they plan to build there depends on what source your reading. After doing some research, there are a lot of different ideas on what to do with that place.
However, there is so much land there, wouldn’t it be a little cost-prohibitive? It would be too bad if those buildings went away,. They’d take a lot of American/Minnesota history with them, once they’re gone.