Although abandoned, the ACME power plant was full of life. Built along the Tongue River, the red brick building stood as a remnant of Wyoming’s industrial past. Workers had not occupied the building since 1976. Now, it was natures playground. The lush grasses and Yellow sweet clover grew tall. The birds sang out, swooping from their perches in the trees. The Cottonwood seeds drifted through the air, occasionally tickling my nose. I noticed the large fluffy clumps of white that had accumulated on the ground. As we ambled around the building, I brushed away the mosquitos making a meal of me. I was busy studying the large broken windows, when my imagination went into overdrive. I was enchanted by this place, for it’s potential. For all that it is going to be.
Earlier that afternoon I sat around a table full of people involved in the power plant reclamation project. Sheridan County Conservation District had recently acquired the piece of land were the ACME power plant now sat. They formed a working group of different organizations to meet and develop a plan for the future use of the site. With the Haub School at the University of Wyoming, I and two other student interns were invited to help the working group. Our main assignment is to investigate the history behind the power plant. Since we were already in Sheridan to attend the meeting, we decided to stop by the project site.
As I stood on the opposite side of the rusted flimsy fence, my curiosity urged me to go inside the structure. My practical side reminded me there were plenty of dangerous contaminates, but what was the harm of just taking a peek? The words from our discussion echoed in my mind, “It’s a playground for any 12 year old.” I smiled, remembering a younger version of myself climbing over a few fences to discover what laid inside a crumbling building.
I have Sophie to thank for my fascination with the abandoned. She was braver than I, and didn’t mind ignoring the no trespassing signs on our exploratory pursuits. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. At first I reluctantly joined her, but then I grew to love the thrill of what we would find inside these places. I watched a thunderstorm from the top of an old cement plant, I carefully stepped through deserted hallways covered in graffiti, and I took countless pictures. We had a few close calls, but thankfully no one decided to punish us for our ‘exploring’.
I’d visit these deteriorating places, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something. I had to know more, I wanted the full story on these forgotten industrial buildings. Now with my summer internship, I get to live out my childhood dream. Even better, I won’t be sitting inside, cracking open a dusty Wyoming history book. We will be speaking to Sheridan residents, who were alive while the power plant was still open. Through recorded interviews we will document personal narratives that are connected to the power plant.
As is typical with many abandoned places, there were traces of humans. Visitors had left behind cigarette butts, an empty oil can, old tires, even a sketchy pop up camper (that I hope was unoccupied). As we crossed the bridge behind the site, I noticed the markings along the large metal trusses. In white chalk someone had drawn and labeled the “River Rat.” In another spot, their signature along with, “In Rust we Trust.” Evidence that the site had been visited recently. What secrets did the power plants history hold? Why does it continue to intrigue people? Ultimately, what responsibility does the community have to the ACME site from here?
We came upon the ACME Power Plant just in time to stop a fire. It was a bizarre incident. As we slowly drove down the bumpy dirt road, Rob had spotted the smoke. Upon stopping, I opened the door to find flames licking up the green grasses on the side of the road. Rob stomped out the fire quickly, as we all poured out water bottles out onto the charred ground. There was no evidence as to how it started. We wondered if it was the man who drove in the opposite direction, his two dogs chasing after his truck. If we had arrived 20 minutes later who knows what would have been up in flames. It’s a chilling thought, the possibility of losing this beautiful place. Despite my brief introduction, I’m ready to discover what else it has to reveal.