In the middle of October, 2006, the Grade Seven students at Brewer Middle School took a field trip to a building that they had seen from a distance for most of their lives, but had never visited up close. The tour guides were various city officials and the future developers of the old paper mill. It was raining quite hard and the students were poorly equipped with flashlight, which added to the overall effect of the visit. What follows are the essays, as written, by roughly half of the students. The essays are presented as written by the students, hoping to preserve their turns of phrase, their usages and their idiosyncrasies as writers.

Carly Seymour
Mucky, Damp, and Smelly were the words that ran through my head at the time I walked into the old abandoned mill, in south Brewer. The reason I thought that was because the floor must have built by a dirty rat city where they had brought mud in from the outdoors. Damp was the feeling of walking through a tunnel of waterfalls. This is my story about the Old Eastern Fine Paper Mill.

As I walked inside the mill on a rainy day I brought up the thought that I should have brought a flashlight. It was dark and very spooky. I had followed in my tour guides footsteps because they told us it was so dangerous that we could fall through in some spots. In my head I related this place to Fort Knox. It echoed every time someone spoke. We walked through so many hallways that I thought we should have brought string that tied to the beginning. The Eastern Fine Paper mill had Millions and Millions of rooms with spokes sticking out from where the paper machines on concrete floors once sat.

Some random things I saw were old half empty coke bottles, McDonald's boxes, Dunkin Donut boxes. Surprisingly inside it was not empty. You would think they would they pick this stuff up when they left. It looked as if someone shooed them out like a lady would do with a broom to a mouse. We had moved on to a big room with a big hole in the middle. The Instructor said "Stay to the right there is a hole here about 10 feet deep, this is where the paper machines once sat." I had asked the tour guide how they got it out? He said it had been taking out piece by piece. I thought that would take a long time. Right? How did they make paper? What did they do when it was finished? These were the questions that haunt me. Historical land marks hidden in the basement chunks and chunks of dirt on the handles and empty boxes, magazines, pictures of things that looked like big piles of suit from a fire place.

On my journey into the tunnel I imagined this place full of laughter and sorrow and love too. As we walked through the power house I saw a big graffiti mark and the words were "Marvel Hearts Fred" and beside that was an emergency shower if you were to spill chemicals on yourself. Some of the things made me wonder if they would ever clean this place up in time to make a new complex. When they build inside I would hope to see the red fright elevator door. I think that is a big part of history and would be great to explore.

When we had to leave I felt well kind of sorry for the mill and for the people who worked there but I knew they were happy to be able to come to it every day in a couple of years, or even work there too. I am looking forward to seeing the Mill be up and running again soon as something new.

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