Tag Archives: photography

Osiris mill in Garfield County, Utah hides century-old secrets in a canyon

by baggyparagraphs

By Ronald Ahrens

John’s Valley Road, the narrow paved byway from Bryce Canyon City, Utah to the tiny hamlet of Antinomy, follows the east fork of the Sevier River through remote country that hardly promised an elevator discovery, yet we found a mill house and grain storage tanks in an obscure place called Black Canyon.

The wooden structure that adjoined stubby concrete tanks appeared after we passed a series of irrigated alfalfa fields on the plateau. Four tanks rose about twenty-five feet from the canyon floor. They were creased at regular intervals and seemed to indicate a type of construction other than the familiar slip-forming of our prairie and Great Plains elevators. The outer surfaces of the tanks were pleated, so to speak, and I had the impression they were made of precast concrete and joined together by mortar. The place was fenced, though, so it wasn’t possible to get up close. My guess is that, because the tanks aren’t so tall, a lower load-bearing rating meant this manner of construction produced a result sufficient in strength. Additionally, it’s hard to imagine a continuous-pour operation in such an out-of-the-way place.

In the central space between them, the four tanks supported a generously proportioned superstructure, which I’d otherwise call a run, and a ramshackle cupola.

I stepped out of the car for pictures but found it unnerving to have the absolute stillness broken by intermittent blasts from a medium-bore rifle. It seemed a safe bet the target wasn’t a grain-elevator blogger, though. Anyway, it’s illegal to shoot across a road, isn’t it? So I went ahead with the photos. It was around five o’clock, and the ruins were harshly backlit.

Returning afterwards to the car, I drove away hoping to find details about this attractive hybrid building, part grain-storage facility and part mill.

In no more than ten miles, my wife and I came to the tiny Garfield County hamlet called Antimony, pronounced AN-ti-MO-NEE, which takes its name from a “metalloid element” that’s useful as an alloy and in the making of semiconductors.

The name Antimony definitely doesn’t suggest a grain trading capital. The town is said to be so remote that it was the last in Utah to get electricity.

Nothing was moving except for a sturdy-looking man doing landscaping chores at Antimony Community Center.

“Oh, that’s Red Mill,” he said when I described the subject of my investigation. There used to be dryland wheat farming where the alfalfa is now, he said. The wheat growers gave it up after the Drought of … he couldn’t remember but reckoned the flour mill was last used sixty years ago.

Red Mill, more properly called Osiris Mill and Creamery, was built William F. Holt, a major figure in western development projects. When he died in 1951, The New York Times declared, “WILLIAM HOLT, 87, BUILDER OF TOWNS; Developer of Resources of the Imperial Valley Dies–Work Formed Basis of Novel.” Or as the Garfield County News summarized: California’s Imperial Valley benefited from Holt’s touch.

Holt first came to Garfield County from his home in Hollywood, California in 1923. The County News lauded him:

“He was the real father of the Imperial Valley, starting work there in about 1900, at a time when there was neither water nor people in that entire country, its only inhabitants being horned toads and Gila monsters, and the turkey buzzards and crows all carried canteens.”

The News reported initial development had started at Widstoe, namely, a power plant, a creamery, and Holt “expected to have a flour mill running in the near future.” He was president of Garfield Land Company, which operated out of a Los Angeles P.O. box. In 1926, Holt received permission from the Utah State Engineer’s Office to divert water from the east fork of the Sevier and fill a 3,000-acre-foot impoundment. The water would be used to irrigate 1,600 surface acres. Holt liked to go on about how California was becoming overcrowded and needed to import food — “everything that is suitable to be raised in this part of the country,” according to the News. He pushed for a new road between Widstoe, where his own fields were, and from Escalante so that farm produce could more easily reach the Union Pacific line at Cedar City, arriving the next night in L.A.

Osiris Mill served as a granary and creamery at the now-defunct town of Osiris, named for the Egyptian deity who lorded over the underworld while also representing fertility and agriculture. Some ruins on the other side of John’s Canyon road indicate the remains of that town. Widstoe is also characterized today as a ghost town; I think it was up on the plateau where the irrigated fields were. Widstoe and Osiris were separate places, and it seems safe to assume the flour mill and creamery referred to in the newspaper were the same relic we visited.

Henry Bell Wright, the first American novelist to make $1 million, modeled a character on Holt in The Winning of Barbara Worth. Wright’s novel became a silent movie starring Ronald Colman, Vilma Bánky, and Gary Cooper. This Western flickered before the public in 1926, the same year the Utah Engineer’s Office awarded irrigation rights.

While time itself seems to stand still in this part of Garfield County, a full century has elapsed since the movie’s release.

The Osiris Mill and Creamery was well-crafted, which makes today’s overgrown site especially regrettable.

Despite the gunfire, our discovery of Osiris seemed heaven-sent. Even though it’s not one of Our Grandfathers’ Grain Elevators, we’re pleased to shine the spotlight once again on this remote wonderment.

Tillotson archive yields mystery photo of Troth Tractor & Equipment of Omaha

by baggyparagraphs

So far, it’s impossible to explain why a photo of a tractor dealership was included in the archive of Tillotson Construction Co. We await further illumination.

Newspaper searches first reveal Troth Tractor & Equipment Co. in 1946 in Omaha. The dealership offered an integrated approach to farming. A classified ad in the World-Herald advises readers: Troth Tractor and Equipment, Authorized Ford-Ferguson Sales and Service. 2515 O St., MA 7958

Henry Ford and Harry Ferguson collaborated on the Ford-Ferguson 9N tractor, examples of which are seen here. This was around the same time that Raymond Loewy and Associates, of New York, designed the new Farmall for International-Harvester.

Wood Bros. Pickers (see sign) refers to the Wood Brothers Thresher Co.’s single-row corn harvester that the tractor towed along. Picked corn would be lofted into a wagon that trailed the picker. Wood Brothers was founded in Minnesota in 1893 and moved to Des Moines in 1899. A Facebook post provides further information:

Wood Bros. Thresher Company marketed their corn pickers on their own and then sold to the Harry Ferguson Co., a part of Ford MotorCompany. 

WHY PAY CASH? asks Troth in this 1949 ad. 

New improved Ford tractors and Wood Brothers pickers cost you less per acre and mean more income. Buy your new improved Ford tractor, Dearborn equipment, and Wood Brothers corn picker now. Up to 2 years to pay. Very low budget rates. A farm plan to fit your every need. Let the Ford tractor pay its own way and keep the profit in your pocket. We are easy to deal with. See us today. Omaha’s Ford Farming Headquarters.

The Dearborn Disc Plow and other implements were produced by the Dearborn Farm Equipment, agriculture division of Ford Motor Co. Note the neon sign in the showroom’s plate glass.

H.B. Smith, next door at 2517 O St., also appears to be a postwar addition to the O Street tableau.

To repeat, we can’t explain this photo. But if you told us that it was included because Uncle Mike Tillotson loved Ford Motor Co. so very much, that would be good enough.

Remodeling in Bruno, Nebr. finds Van Ness on the job for Nye & Jenks

by baggyparagraphs

The Great Depression forced many changes in the early 1930s. For one, the Nye & Jenks Grain Co. decided to get out of the lumber business at its Bruno, Nebr. location. To that end, in April of 1934, men were tearing down the lumber sheds at the company’s location in that little Butler County burg. The plan was to use the lumber on hand, along with some hauled to Bruno from Cedar Bluffs–which lay 25 miles distant in Saunders County–to put up a storage annex.

Nye & Jenks was an Omaha company, and a cursory search of archived newspapers suggests Van Ness Construction Co. was their preferred contractor. There was more activity at other eastern Nebraska locations such as Fremont, Wahoo, Cedar Bluffs, and Brainard.

Van Ness, of course, employed Charles H. Tillotson and his son, Reginald O. Tillotson. In 1934, Reginald was around 26 years old, newly married to Margaret I. McDunn, but not yet a father. Their first son, Charles J. Tillotson, was born in 1935.

After her 1925 graduation from Wayne State College, Margaret had taught in Lynch, Nebr. for a time, and coincidentally Nye & Jenks appears to have had an elevator there, too.

Charles H. Tillotson died in 1938. Reginald passed away in 1960, and Margaret in 1995. Charles J. died in February 2026.

Reginald’s notes in a photo album retrieved from family archives indicate the men seen above are Dean Essex, R.O. Tillotson, Rupert Hammonds, Tony Proskovec, and C.H. Tillotson. We don’t think the listing proceeds from left to right, though, and are unable to say just who is who. We think R.O. and C.H Tillotson are two of the three wearing the working garb. As for the others, we couldn’t learn anything that would pin down their identities.

Patches of snow on the ground suggest a late-winter or early spring date for the photo. The men are dressed for a chilly day, although the sunny moment was somewhat balmy.

The Peoples Banner, a weekly newspaper published in Butler County, gave this update on June 21 (using one of the many variant spellings for Nye & Jenks Grain Co.:

The work of re-modeling the Nye, Jenks & Co. elevator in Bruno has been completed. The elevator now has a capacity of 30,000 bushels. The company has discontinued the lumber business and will handle grain and coal from now on.

At the same time, Anton Proskovec left Bruno to work at the Nye & Jenks elevator in Funk, Nebr., a town 165 miles to the southwest. It was a seven-week assignment, though, as the Peoples Banner reported him back on Aug. 9.

Ed Dvorak, who has been manager of the Nye, Jenks & Co. grain elevator for a number of months [since the previous August], left Saturday for his home at Howells [40 miles due north]. V.A. Proskovec will have charge of the business.”

Our insertions in the above passage are in brackets.

We think V.A. Proskovec and Anton Proskovec are the same person, and that would also include the Tony Proskovec of the photo.

An interesting, earlier note from the Brainard Clipper, the paper in the town just south of Bruno, intimates just how tough the times were indeed. The report of March 9, 1933 says:

The Farmers Elevator are not buying any grain, while due to arrangements made in the company’s head offices, the Nye & Jenks Grain Co. are able to buy up to $25 worth of grain from any one farmer, paying for it in the Co’s scrip. This scrip is made payable on or before April 1, and is acceptable by many of the wholesale houses thereby making it practical for merchants to accept it in trade. The scrip is issued in amounts of $5 or less. 

We leave the reader to discern the full implications.

It would be just four years before Tillotson Construction Co. was formed and turned its attention to large elevators made of reinforced concrete.

‘Huge strides’ prompt extreme reactions in Lincoln elevator demo project

by baggyparagraphs

A representative of CL Construction, of Lincoln, sends this aerial photo and reports “huge strides in the demolition of the grain elevators at 3001 Cornhusker Hwy. in Lincoln.” News of the project first broke late in 2024. The demolition site will be offered for redevelopment.

Lincoln’s 10/11 News visited early in 2026 for an update. Comments on the channel’s report range from sublime to ridiculous. These are unedited for style or factual correctness.

Sublime: @dougnagel1155 “What weird comments. It’s just time to move on. When I was a kid hauling grain to this elevator, it was on the outskirts of town. Now it’s pretty much in the middle of town. Farmers are not bringing the crops to Lincoln like they used to. There’s other elevators north of town that are easier to haul to and avoid city traffic. I’m sure the Lincoln site isn’t profitable anymore.”

Ridiculous: @VictorianMaid99 “No grain means no food and no food means no people. Planned demolition just like 911.”

Sublime: @danlowe8684 “Those silos were not in ‘disrepair’. They were some of the beefiest structures ever built – and would have been standing for many more generations. They have been working to demolish them for over a year with modern machinery – and are far from done. The silo builders invented slip-form concrete construction in the early 1900s (Buffalo, NY, I believe), and it is used today for bridge and highway construction.”

Ridiculous: @e030396  “Another example of this generations’ toxic mentality (tear-down-functional-structures with out good reason). Looks like a stupid move not considering the increase carbon foot print.”

Sublime: @paulkurilecz4209 “More than likely the conveyor systems were in disrepair. They were not refurbished due to a lack of business.”

Meanwhile, CL Construction has been active elsewhere.

“In between all of this, our team has been down in Sunray, Tex. to dismantle another grain elevator facility,” the spokesman reports.

We know Tillotson built in Sunray and suspect that’s the facility in question.

Note: The white elevator at upper right is a Tillotson elevator from the mid-1950s.

Archival photo leads to guesses on the location of a mighty wooden elevator complex

by baggyparagraphs

The cache of archival photos recovered from the Tillotson homestead includes an image of a wooden elevator complex, but there are no inscriptions on back of the photo so we have no clue of the location or date.

Close inspection of the image reveals the smaller of the two elevator buildings is labeled. It appears that “Farmers Co-Op” was painted over other lettering, possibly “Grain & Coal.”

The larger building–how about that headhouse!–is labeled Farmers Co-Op Co.

We sure wish we could identify the woman standing on the office porch. She is buttoned up tight inside her overcoat and giving a nice smile.

The car looks like a mid-1930s Pontiac.

There are other markings. We see the numerals 2 and 8 at the extreme left but can’t explain them. Three signs hang on the outer walls of the office. The one the car is facing advertises Semi Solid Buttermilk, a brand of partially dehydrated buttermilk that was used as a livestock and poultry feed supplement.

Brand advertising claimed: “When Sows are fed Semi-Solid they have little or no trouble from ‘dreaded white scours’ among the pigs.”

Ad from The Nebraska Farmer, Feb. 2, 1929

Signs to either side of the woman are illegible, but the shingle under the gable is inscribed Fairbanks Scales.

All the signs would lend the elevator a stamp of authentication: a patron of this establishment could be assured of getting the most advanced and most accurate services.

In general, the whole complex projects a mighty aura, and it’s easy to suspect this was one of the leading operations in its region.

A Tillotson warehouse, 1,000 bells, and a cat round out the legacy of Peet’s Feeds

by baggyparagraphs

This much is known: Tillotson Construction Co. performed a job for E.M. Peet Manufacturing Co. in Council Bluffs, Iowa. It’s with apparent disinterest, or at best indifference, that the backs of two photos are marked “Warehouse.” No record of the job itself can be located, so we have to guess the date and what exactly was built. A 5,000-square-foot addition was done in 1958 to increase sacking and storage capacity as Peet’s joined the trend of adding bulk-storage bins, six in all. But that small job went to Ranch Construction Co., with Grain Storage and Construction Co. getting the machinery contract. 

The photos suggest Tillotson Construction did a bigger project. We estimate the width of the two-story building at 80 feet. Could 15,000 square feet be too high for the total volume? 

We’re trying to identify the two trucks and their model years, which could be pre-World War Two.

The next best clue for the date of Tillotson’s job is a Peet’s newspaper ad. 

E.M. Peet Manufacturing Co. was founded in 1917 by Ernest M. Peet and W.A. Ruehlman. It was Peet who ran the company as president, making livestock and poultry feeds. Besides their home location at 33 S. 25th St., Peet’s had branches in several states. They also had test farms. 

Pete was a Christian Scientist and belonged to fraternal lodges in the Bluffs. He and his wife Ethel lived at 163 Glen Avenue. Their daughter was Mrs. Dorothy Bammann. Ethel proved to be a ding-a-ling. She belonged to the American Bell Association and collected more than 1,000 bells. She used to drag out her suitcase and pack her dress, the one with bells sewn on it, and go to the ABA’s annual conventions in different cities.

“Everybody comes dressed with bell accessories in some manner,” she told the Daily Nonpareil’s “What’s Your Hobby?” column.  

Ernie Peet was 63 years old when he died Dec. 10, 1944—a shock to the community. More than 500 people including 75 of his salesmen attended the funeral, and there were truckloads of flowers. The Daily Nonpareil lamented: 

The death of E.M. Peet has left Council Bluffs without one of its best established and well-known business leaders. His loss will be felt for a long time.” 

The revealing newspaper ad we referred to ran on February 11, 1945.

Until Reginald Tillotson speaks from his own grave, we have no way of pinning down whether the warehouse was done in Peet’s lifetime, but it’s interesting that the archival photo (top of post) matches the photo of Peet’s operation in the ad. All this indicates an early job for Tillotson Construction, one they finished well before Ernie Peet’s death.

Peet’s was big enough that its sales staff would congregate for special presentations on the latest advances. In 1951, for example, a group of 75 convened for three days at the Hotel Chieftain and, among other things, heard a University of Minnesota professor report new measures in animal nutrition such as adding Vitamin B-12, select minerals, and even antibiotics to the feed.

All that was for bovine and porcine types. But an amusing anecdote expands the Peet’s legacy in a feline way. 

In 1955, the warehouse cat, Lily, received publicity from a Daily Nonpareil story, which led to her selection as winner of the national Puss’n Boots Bronze Award. (Puss’n Boots was a brand of pet food.) The citation purred: 

Amusing mascot, loyal friend, doting mother—that’s Lily. Born in a manufacturing plant (now raising her family there), this affectionate feline endeared herself to fellow workers by her fondness for riding on the company tractor. No day is complete for her friends until Lily comes riding by. To loyal, adaptable Lily, a tractor-riding tabby, this tribute. 

Away from the office, Reginald and Mary Tillotson rode horseback amid the piñons

by baggyparagraphs

Laying off from work in their Omaha office, Reginald Tillotson and his sister Mary Tillotson knew how to play, too. Here we see them on horseback, going down a cliffside with three others who cannot be identified. Reginald wore the white hat and ample chaps, Mary flourished the white tie. It was an adventure that Reginald’s wife Margaret would never have attempted. The Tillotsons owned a New Mexico ranch, so we guess this trail’s location is nearby. We’re also guessing the ponies knew just where to stop for the photo, and that’s not only because of the way they’re lined up. Note the marker that’s jabbing into the center of the picture. Lettering stenciled on the arm says “HANDS OFF.” We welcome guesses about it.

How some wooden elevators in Nebraska were repurposed to produce cattle feed

by baggyparagraphs

Story and photos by Brad Perry

In Nebraska, many of the 12,000- to 18,000-bushel wood elevators got turned into feed mills, mainly for cattle feed. Most of these elevators had a roller mill in the basement and made a decent feed mill due to their small bins. An example from Walthill, Nebr. is seen in the photo above.

Halbur, Iowa mill
Dodge, Nebr.
Oakland, Iowa

In Iowa, this was less common due to more hogs than cattle. Swine feeds tended to be more complex with more ingredients than cattle feed.

Feed mills were still being built of wood in Iowa up until the 1960s.

Quad States Construction, out of Des Moines, Iowa, got started building wood feed mills and then became a major builder of concrete elevators and annex tanks.

A reader’s contribution presents two of the largest–and last–wooden elevators on the prairie

by baggyparagraphs

Story and photos by Brad Perry

When I started with the Omaha Bank for Cooperatives in 1975, my accounts were the co-ops north of Interstate 80. One was Tekamah, Nebr., where Farmers Elevator was in grain and feed. I was told this was the last wood elevator built in Nebraska. 

It was huge for a wood house — 100,000-bushel capacity. I was also told they went with wood due to poor soil conditions. You can still see it on Google Earth. It’s the big one on the left.

Editor’s note: The poor soil conditions may have led to a heavy concrete elevator settling.

This June 29, 1961 article from the Burt County Plaindealer describes the new twin-leg elevator that would soon open with all the modern fittings found in a concrete elevator.

The very last wood house we financed at OBC was for the co-op at Sisseton, S.D. It’s still in use and holds 60,000 bushels. 

I can remember it cost $6 per bushel ($360,000) when a 250,000-bushel concrete house was $500,000. 

Minnesota and North Dakota stayed with wood longer than anywhere else because of their cold weather. They built as much as 250,000-bushel wood houses. Wood is a much better insulator than concrete and does not have condensation issues.

Old wooden elevators must repurpose or perish, as the surviving elevator in Lander, Wyo. shows

by kocart

Story and photos by Kristen Cart

It’s wonderful to find an elevator that has taken on a new life. The Lander, Wyo. grain elevator, which stands sentry at one end of the business district, was in a sorry state when its rescuer arrived on scene, as told by the Cowboy State Daily, Jan 20, 2024. It took a lot of money and a bit of wild romanticism to see beauty in the spoiled hulk, and to do something about it. I too wondered how that bike got up there. Now I know.

Artists who happened through Lander have also been inspired by the elevator, and you will find it with its Bike Mill and Purina checkerboard represented in paintings and drawings all over town. J. C. Dye, a local painter and sculptor, recently worked on a painting commission that featured the Lander elevator prominently, with a cattle drive running down the main street in its shadow. The painting will soon adorn a local concern.

An old elevator normally will not overcome fifty or more years of pigeon poop and rotten grain crusted throughout the interior, with rain and snow coming in through a ruined roof. It will become a haven for vermin, a nuisance, and a safety hazard. Then it will meet the bulldozer or the wrecking crane.

Many elevators didn’t make it that far, as revealed by story after story in local newspapers of elevator fires and the ensuing destruction.

A lot of these old monuments won’t overcome the day they no longer make money for their owners. The Cogdill elevators and mills in Dow City and Dunlap, Iowa would meet their demise by fire. The sons of Pat Codgill of The Cogdill Farm Supply Company intended to demolish them to modernize the operation after taking over for their dad. When I looked for them some years later, the elevators were gone.

The demolition at Arimo, Idaho on May 1, 2012.

The better preserved elevators may be taken down board by board for their pretty blond lumber, the way the elevator in Arimo, Idaho, met its fate. The wood became more valuable than the storage. The economics are brutal once these structures become obsolete.

A demolition in Billings, Montana, in 2025

I caught the very end of a demolition in Billings, Montana, recently, and stopped for a couple of snapshots. The old wooden mill was mostly shredded lumber, and the concrete bins were a tangle of rebar and gravel, with a few remaining hulks. In a few days, there would be little left. It’s a depressingly familiar scene.

It’s very nice to come across a survivor. Thank you, people of Lander, for saving a piece of your history.