The InterRoyal Corporation

It was one of those quintessential New England summer days, sun-warmed, humming with the low thrum of cicadas, when we found ourselves once again at the edges of the InterRoyal site in Plainfield, Connecticut. The old factory loomed like a fossil of America’s industrial past: gutted, crumbling, but somehow still proud. We ducked beneath a tangle of undergrowth, clothes catching on brambles, and slid our sweaty frames through a yawning tear in the chain-link fence. This wasn’t our first time. A previous visit had led us down a forgotten spur of railroad track, the kind that once ferried goods and ambition in and out of this small mill town. We had wandered to the far edge of the property, then, into what remained of the site’s crown jewel, an enormous building gutted by fire, its charred skeleton exposed to the sky. Inside, two hulking Lake Erie Engineering Corporation punch presses still stood like monuments. Imposing, unmoved, rooted deep in the floorboards that had outlasted ge...