The Buckner Building 2004

Man do I ever love this building.

I remember being fascinated with the Buckner building ever since I first saw it. When I was a kid, my family would periodically take a day trip out to Whittier, just to get out of town for a bit. We’d walk around the harbor a bit, have some diner food at what I’m reasonably sure is the town’s only year round restaurant, and see the sights, such that they are. I think the main attraction was supposed to be the natural beauty to be found surrounding the place, but my eyes would always wander to the monolithic ruin that dwarfs every other man made structure around it.

Finally, on one such trip, I convinced my dad and my brother to go in with me, just for a few minutes. My mom wasn’t at all up for it, but in this case the majority won and we pulled the family minivan over on the crumbling road that abuts the building. I grabbed my mini maglite and the dinky Kodak Easyshare that was the only digital camera we had at the time, and raced out the door to clamber over the snow berm that consumed the first floor and disappear into the bowels of the building through an open fire escape.

I eagerly sped through the debris strewn corridors and waterlogged rooms of the building’s massive interior, snapping pictures haphazardly as I went. The light I’d brought barely lit the way in the inner parts of the above snow line zones of the building, so the lower reaches eluded me. I’d barely begun to explore the daylit upper floor we’d come in on before the others caught up to me and suggested we might want to get back to my mother waiting outside.

She was less than pleased when we finally emerged back out into the daylight, soaking wet and reeking of the ruin. Apparently her presence got some odd looks from locals driving by. Hard to be inconspicuous in a town of less than two hundred people I guess.

Motherly ire failed to dampen my excitement, of course. I’d end up revisiting Whittier’s largest eyesore several more times in the years to follow.

NIKE Site Point 2005

Back when I lived in Alaska I made a hobby out of exploring abandoned buildings, and the most plentiful and accessible tended to be those of the derelict military installations that dot the state. One of these is NIKE Site Point, one of three NIKE missile sites that protected the Anchorage area during the Cold War era. This particular set of photos is from a visit way back in 2005.

This site has largely been demolished, and the few buildings that still exist have been sealed up tight and/or repurposed by the municipality of Anchorage. The launch control and support buildings were all razed at some point, with only foundations to mark where they stood. What is left are several bunkers which once housed the missiles that the whole installation existed for.

I had the good fortune to be taking pictures of the exteriors of them at the same time a municipal crew was opening one up to stow away some playground equipment in one of the bunkers now used for storage. I asked if I and my friends could have a quick look around and they obliged, so we took a quick self guided tour and I snapped this set.

Going through them now, this nameplate on the equipment used to deploy the missile carriages onto the pad outside the bunker caught my eye. I took these pictures far before I knew much of Portland beyond its name. Now, I realize I’ve spent the past few years walking by the business that manufactured this stuff way back when. Premier Gear & Machine Works still exists on Thurman street.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a whole lot of time inside the bunker. I did manage to pick out a lot of details that aren’t present in the other sites which have been ravaged thoroughly by scrappers and vandals nonetheless. The parts of this NIKE site that weren’t razed are remarkably well preserved. Here’s the rest of the gallery:

 

Some purpose, and the GRiD 1139

One of the things I’d like to do now that I have some real hosting for this domain is get some old content online that I’ve been intending to put up somewhere for years.

First thing to get the honor is a set of photos I took of a GRiD 1139 portable computer I owned until last year. I first got my hands on it back in… I think the late 90s? It was mixed in with a lot of surplus equipment my dad bought from the municipality at auction. It wasn’t of much interest to me at the time, but it was unusual enough that I kept it rather than let it be sent to the landfill (yeah, I know) with the other too old to be useful stuff that had accompanied the gear that my dad had actually been after.

It languished on a shelf for a long, long time in my room at my parents house. I briefly used the built in spreadsheet app on it to keep inventory for the student store at my high school. Then it went back into hibernation for a few more years. I dug it out again last year while I was cleaning out a bunch of my old stuff I’d left at my parent’s place when I left Anchorage to go to school in Portland. I was somewhat astonished to find it still worked. After messing around with it a bit I got to researching what exactly I had on my hands, and most importantly if it was actually worth anything.

Turns out, it was worth a lot. The 1139 has a number of characteristics that make it pretty collectible. It has unusual hardware (non-volatile bubble memory, an amber plasma display) wrapped in one of the first clamshell type portable cases (made of magnesium!) It also has some historical relevance, 1139s having been used on the space shuttles (http://www.old-computers.com/museum/doc.asp?c=900), and some pop culture exposure via the movie Aliens (http://forum.alienslegacy.com/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=5410).

I put it, and some other less interesting GRiD machines, on eBay, and was pleasantly surprised to receive a high bid for the 1139 of around $400 from a collector in Austria. Prior to making the sale though, I indulged my curiosity and took the machine down to its bones to see what the guts looked like. The rest of the pictures from this exercise are below: