Poppin' Fresh!

Completing our survey of Falls-adjacent flour mills, it's time for Pillsbury. Perhaps the most famous of the local milling names (thanks to the blandness of General Mills), the "A" mill has been in the news fairly recently after being named as one of the most endangered historic places. The mill was completed in 1881 and was the largest flour mill in the world for 40 years. It stopped operating in 2003 and has since been through the redevelopment wringer.

Unlike the Washburn A Mill, this one never exploded, although its design, by an architect rather than an engineer, had trouble standing up to the vibrations produced by its massive machinery, leaving the outer walls of the original mill building bowed out by 22 inches at the top.

I took several pictures I thought were worth posting, but once I got a shot with the horse-drawn carriage out front, how couldn't I put it up top? It's vaguely reminiscent of the horse drawn carts in front of the mill in this 1884 postcard.

Not surprisingly, there are many old images available from the Historical Society. This one, showing a train preparing to leave from the center of the complex, makes me think that someone should do a comparison showing what things look like today. Hmm. Perhaps I have a new project idea.

Finally, I'd highlight this one, from around the turn of the 20th century, showing a smaller mill complex as well as the water flowing on the riverbank below the mill. If I was more familiar with mill terminology, I could probably describe it more accurately, but I'd bet the water there has already been through the waterwheels.

I'll leave you with one last shot, taken from across the river and showing the stone arch bridge and a bit more of the surrounding context:

Flour Power

We're back to the mill district, with the preserved Gold Medal Flour sign that's a landmark on the riverfront. Above it's framed with the old mills and the Mill City Museum, and below with the "new" Guthrie Theater. We've already covered nearby Northwestern mills, and I'm sure the Pillsbury A mill will be in our future, but this time we feature signage for the still-available product from General Mills. The site is the Washburn A mill, which dates to the 1870s and was the largest in the world upon its completion. In 1878 an explosion rocked the mill, killing several people and reducing the city's milling capacity by a third. Not to be deterred by the deaths of 18, the mill was rebuilt and back up and running again by 1880.

As you would expect, the historical society has a few good shots of the days when the mill was running as well.

It's Pronounced Eye-Gor

From lumber and saw milling we move to flour. This is the side of the Northwestern Consolidated Milling Company's "Million Bushel Elevator," with the Carlyle condominium (the tallest residential building in Minneapolis) visible in the background. At the time of its formation via the consolidation of several local milling companies in 1891, Northwestern was the second largest milling company in the world behind local rival Pillsbury and just ahead of the predecessor to General Mills, also a local rival. In this era, Minneapolis, and St. Anthony Falls, was the flour milling capital of the world.

The Ceresota brand (a combination of Roman goddess of agriculture and Minnesota?) dates to 1891, but the building here is a relative new comer being built as recently as 1908. It operated as a mill until the 1950s, when it was converted to light industrial and manufacturing. Today it's rental office space.

Once again, the Historical Society has some interesting images, in particular of old ads for the Ceresota brand. I'll just highlight an interesting interior shot of the bagging operation from 1940, an undated exterior showing the industrial nature of the area that's quite a contrast to today, and an undated shot of some women holding Diamond and Ceresota brand bags (I tried but failed to resist the temptation to point out that the one on the left looks a lot like Marty Feldman).

The mill and the sign are near the river on S. 2nd St.

And They Complain About The Browns

Another Minneapolis riverfront icon, and this one involves at least a bit of paint on masonry. The North Star Woolen Mill Company built this textile mill in 1864 as part of an effort to establish the industry near St. Anthony Falls, with its long and prosperous tradition of milling. By 1925 it was nations largest manufacturer of woolen blankets.

You'll not be surprised that there are quite a few images out there. I also found this cool mother's day blanket ad from 1946.

The company moved to Ohio in 1949 and the building sat empty for nearly 50 years. It was turned into condos in what I think was one of the city's earlier loft conversions in 1988-89. It's a personal favorite and when shopping for housing I was sorely tempted to buy here. Had I done so, I would have had my very own ghost sign, immediately below my balcony:

If you can read it, you know it's located at 109 Portland Ave. S.

Taste of Nordeast

I wanted something special for the 20th sign, the second full page of posts, so I decided to bend the rules a bit again (I'm The Decider, so I can do that) for a true Minneapolis icon. The Grain Belt beer sign has been flashing it hints of barley and hop goodness toward downtown from its perch on Nicollet Island for ages. It was apparently for sale and in ill repair a year and a half ago, and hasn't flashed as it's meant to for some time.

Before American brewing became concentrated in Milwaukee, St. Louis and Colorado (or who are we kidding, these days, South Africa, Belgium and Canada), Grain Belt was one of the regional brands that served the Upper Midwest. The brand dates to before Prohibition and today it seems the original yellow beer seems to be gaining PBR-like ironic popularity. Today it's owned by August Schell Brewing of New Ulm and the original brew is complimented by the deliciously darker Nordeast. The abandoned old brewery in Northeast Minneapolis is on the national register of historic places.