Halsey, Ore., in early 2012.
Story and photos by Kristen Cart
Elevators such as this one in Halsey, Ore., have elicited interest from photographers and curious travellers for as long as they have existed, especially since they are on the verge of extinction. Technology passed them by back in the early 1940s when most of the new construction in the United States went to slip-formed concrete.
The remnants of the Halsey elevator, Feb. 2013, in a downpour.
Canada held out, building wooden elevators well into the 1970s, with a minority of them still in service today, and many more long since demolished, abandoned, or burned.
The end has come for the Halsey elevator. After hearing of its demise in an online forum, I recently passed near the town on I-5 and stopped to see the hulking remnant. It was a sorrowful sight, topless and dreary.
But beside it was a more interesting find.
In an empty lot next to the elevator, piled randomly, was the elevator’s leg. It brought to mind a story–a cautionary tale, really–which illustrated why concrete was so attractive to engineers looking for a better alternative.
The leg from the Halsey, Ore. elevator, piled on the ground.
While exploring elevators in Alberta, Canada, I took a trip to a small town called Milo.
It was a snowy day, and as I gazed up at the lone wooden elevator, a gentleman pulled up in his truck and asked if I needed directions. He introduced himself as Ian Thomson. He was a long-time resident and farmer, and once we got on the topic of elevators, he told me that Milo once had nine wooden elevators lined up along the rail line. The sole survivor, silver-sided and huge, was built in the 1970s. It was still active, and its nearest neighbor had come down a year or two before.
The lone wooden elevator in Milo, Alberta, Canada.
Ian told a tale of the demise of one of the old wooden houses.
One of Milo’s elevators was decommissioned in winter, years ago. When the leg was torn out, a salvage company tried to remove the conveyor belt to reuse the rubber. Water remained in the pit, and the lower portion of the leg could not be retrieved because it was frozen solid. So they cut the belt off at the top of the ice and hauled off what they could. The owners told Ian that as soon as the pit thawed out, he could have the rest.
It was an early spring day, and a thunderstorm rolled by. A farmer could always use rubber–Ian was thinking of mud flaps for his truck, so when he went to check the elevator that day, he was disappointed to find the leg remnants still frozen solid in the pit. So he left without them. But as he exited the elevator, he noticed a thin tendril of smoke rising from the headhouse.
Ian Thomson displays his railroad collection.
With gut wrenching dread, he called the owners, but he knew it was already too late. A fire company fought the blaze, but by then the elevator was fully involved, and it burned completely down.
A nagging worry stayed with Ian. While he knew he had done nothing to cause the fire, he was seen leaving the elevator, and he thought his neighbors might wonder about it. But the real culprit was lightning. He needn’t have worried.
Ian Thomson was an honorable member of the community and an esteemed historian, with a proud military heritage. He was, and still is, a true gentleman farmer.
Alberta wheat country.
The fire danger inherent in wooden elevators spurred engineers to try concrete building methods. Concrete elevators came with their own hazards, but also great advantages, and they remain the premier choice for durable, large scale grain storage.
But we still miss the proud old wooden denizens of the plains.
Our Grandfathers' Grain Elevators 
the wood elevator was SUPER cool!! Thanks for sharing!
Linda Laird, of Grain Elevator Press (linked above), explained a fact about elevators I never knew. Here is her comment about elevator building in Northern climates:
“…also wanted to tell you that the reason there are not more concrete [elevators] on the
northern plains, is that the variation in temperature from front to back in the winter
causes the concrete to split. The wheat in the front warms, and that in the back
stays cold: unstable, bang. Most of the elevators are smaller in the north
because they sell through to flour mills, rather than storing for cold war
hoarding, which occurred on the southern plains and has rendered so many of the
concrete elevators obsolete since subsidized storage ended in the 70s.”
Great story and photos, Kristen. The part of this story that I liked best was how Mr. Thomson pulled over to see if you needed help. A gentleman, yes.
It is a fairly common thing for these to be torn down. I think you may be able to approach an operator who is planning to tear one down and ask what is to be done with the materials. Generally, they are made with high quality wood and are salvaged. You might be able to get a souvenir if you ask.
This particular elevator was pine I believe, and the thing turned out to be quite valuable to the owners who salvaged it. It was built in the 1970s and had outlived its usefulness. Tearing it down beat letting it stand idle–eventually it would become a fire and debris hazard, so it had to come down while it still had value. The owners made out quite well.
[…] day, I found myself in Halsey, trying to capture the pigeons as they circled the broken top of the remains of the old wooden grain elevator. That turned out to be an exercise in frustration, as I was hoping for the swirl of birds to pass […]