The ice comes from Reno.Thecatman wrote:I see the price of ice going up, the lines getting longer, without Empire
US Gypsum to close. Gerlach to dry up and blow away?
- unjonharley
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- oneeyeddick
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What does ice go for? And coffee since we're on the topic of the only two things I can expect to be asked for money to get.
~JStep
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Tallgrass Burners - The Omaha and Nebraska Area Burning Man Regional Group
http://www.tallgrassburners.com
Email: nebraska [at] burningman.com
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Tallgrass Burners - The Omaha and Nebraska Area Burning Man Regional Group
http://www.tallgrassburners.com
Email: nebraska [at] burningman.com
- Here and there
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If only there was something we could do to speed up the process.Shambala wrote:but Gerlach will just struggle and slowly fade from it's 175 residents down to a substantially lower number.
To save this dump? My God, do Nevadans even understand the concept of architecture? Why are their towns always this ugly?My questions are:
Is there anything that would draw people, jobs and some industry to this area to allow it to survive this developing senario?

The beauty of the situation is that no money need be spent to make this town go away. Just let the last inhabitant leave, and the whole town be abandoned, and the entire town can be reduced to scrap, basically for free. Then you toss the metal scrap into Pyramid Lake, while burning the flammable scrap upwind from some other little town that hasn't folded, yet, just to say "hi".
- Aiee! It burns!
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Oh, and I thought it had something to do with the harsh sun and wind borne dust exposure...lucky420 wrote:My God, do Nevadans even understand the concept of architecture? Why are their towns always this ugly?
Cuz it's the wild wild west and if you don't like it you can get the fuck out...
"Nothing is withheld from us which we have conceived to do.
Do things that have never been done."
--Russell Kirsch
Do things that have never been done."
--Russell Kirsch
- TomServo
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Fuck architecture! Ever been to Vallejo? It has block after block of beautiful victorians, but is the most depressing shithole on earth. Maybe its the growing murder rate...I don't know. But I love shitty old buildings in the high desert, where I feel comfortable in the knowledge that everyones packing. And yes, climate is a huge factor. I call dibs on the Empire store meat counter! Ill just set up a cot behind it.
anything worth doing is worth overdoing..
- unjonharley
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Good thing I don't eat meat.. You sleeping in my food is not a pretty picture..TomServo wrote:Fuck architecture! Ever been to Vallejo? It has block after block of beautiful victorians, but is the most depressing shithole on earth. Maybe its the growing murder rate...I don't know. But I love shitty old buildings in the high desert, where I feel comfortable in the knowledge that everyones packing. And yes, climate is a huge factor. I call dibs on the Empire store meat counter! Ill just set up a cot behind it.
- TomServo
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But its tender and seasoned!unjonharley wrote:Good thing I don't eat meat.. You sleeping in my food is not a pretty picture..TomServo wrote:Fuck architecture! Ever been to Vallejo? It has block after block of beautiful victorians, but is the most depressing shithole on earth. Maybe its the growing murder rate...I don't know. But I love shitty old buildings in the high desert, where I feel comfortable in the knowledge that everyones packing. And yes, climate is a huge factor. I call dibs on the Empire store meat counter! Ill just set up a cot behind it.
anything worth doing is worth overdoing..
Rumor is human tastes really good... kinda like pork. (Hence the nickname "long pig".)
One thing I like about the University of Wisconsin-- Madison is its complete lack of a unifying architectural theme. Buildings are put up in whatever the current architectural fashion is. Unfortunately, lately that style has been "cheap."
One thing I like about the University of Wisconsin-- Madison is its complete lack of a unifying architectural theme. Buildings are put up in whatever the current architectural fashion is. Unfortunately, lately that style has been "cheap."
"Nothing is withheld from us which we have conceived to do.
Do things that have never been done."
--Russell Kirsch
Do things that have never been done."
--Russell Kirsch
Packing and moving is such a pain in the ass; what a drag for dawg's sakes...maybe some of the kids will be glad to move afterall.
Boredom = trouble, I see the families making wiser choices and moving into cities.
Boredom = trouble, I see the families making wiser choices and moving into cities.
I'm the MAN in a truck, burner who is stuck, you're in luck! I'll whip out my BIG tow chain and not charge you, not even one lousy buck!
- theCryptofishist
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That does not bode well. 100+ years ago they had imposing marble facades and all that. A little silly, and the buildings may not easily adapt to modern needs, but at least they were spending serious money on public education. We live in the era of sausage factories...BAS wrote:Rumor is human tastes really good... kinda like pork. (Hence the nickname "long pig".)
One thing I like about the University of Wisconsin-- Madison is its complete lack of a unifying architectural theme. Buildings are put up in whatever the current architectural fashion is. Unfortunately, lately that style has been "cheap."
The Lady with a Lamprey
"The powerful are exploiting people, art and ideas, and this leads to us plebes debating how to best ration ice.
Man, no wonder they always win....." Lonesomebri
"The powerful are exploiting people, art and ideas, and this leads to us plebes debating how to best ration ice.
Man, no wonder they always win....." Lonesomebri
Yeah, the Pharmacy Building, built around 2000 or 2002, leaks water during heavy rains, the WIMR building sucks rain through its doors (and it isn't technically finished yet, IIRC.) As far as I can tell, new Ogg wasn't really designed to be maintained, etc. Putting up new buildings is much more prestigious than maintaining them-- or building them to last. They look sorta pretty when new, though...
This is the Disposable Era-- disposable buildings, disposable workers, disposable economies, and too much else to list.
This is the Disposable Era-- disposable buildings, disposable workers, disposable economies, and too much else to list.
"Nothing is withheld from us which we have conceived to do.
Do things that have never been done."
--Russell Kirsch
Do things that have never been done."
--Russell Kirsch
- theCryptofishist
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Man has always been a garbage producing animal. All the best archeology comes from "rubbish tips"--i.e. garbage dumps. But at one point learning was too prestigious to be conducted in places built in such a shoddy manner. And yes, I can see the "conformity factory" argument. But knowledge is a powerful tool.
Probably why they don't want to fund it no more. The are hording the knowledge...
Probably why they don't want to fund it no more. The are hording the knowledge...
The Lady with a Lamprey
"The powerful are exploiting people, art and ideas, and this leads to us plebes debating how to best ration ice.
Man, no wonder they always win....." Lonesomebri
"The powerful are exploiting people, art and ideas, and this leads to us plebes debating how to best ration ice.
Man, no wonder they always win....." Lonesomebri
- Here and there
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Oh, and I thought it had something to do with the harsh sun and wind borne dust exposure...My God, do Nevadans even understand the concept of architecture? Why are their towns always this ugly?
Cuz it's the wild wild west and if you don't like it you can get the fuck out...My mistake!
Yes, because it's not like there's every any of that in Iran?

Or in New Mexico?

Or old Mexico?

Or Saudi Arabia?

You know, Saudi Arabia, that place where the last stream in the entire country stopped flowing only a little over 4000 years ago, and some of those in late middle age saw rain as recently as their early teen years? Why, it's a veritable rain forest.
Credit for the photos goes to a few users on Flickr; click on the photos in my post and you'll come to where I found those photos on Flickr. Credit for the wisdom of the remarks to which I've just replied probably goes to a few centuries worth of inbreeding in their families.
By the way, the word is "because", not 'cuz. b-e-c-a-u-s-e. Please make a note of it.
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- lucky420
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"cuz" is not appropriate grammar...duly noted. Now if the folks of Gerlach/N. Nevada could just find all that underground crude we could look like the Middle East too or at least like Beverly Hillbillies.
and leave my family out of this, the basque have enough problems without being accused of inbreeding.
and leave my family out of this, the basque have enough problems without being accused of inbreeding.
- oneeyeddick
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NPR story on the closing Empire Plant
...from KNPR...
So the family that owns Empire Storage now owns the store, too...The Story of Empire: What Happens to Small Towns When Their Main Industry Shuts Its Doors
AIR DATE: January 25, 2011: See Program Page | Download MP3
The USG Corporation announced it would close its local operations. That would be fine - except it employs nearly everyone who lives in Empire, NV. If USG leaves, what will happen? Will its schools shut down? And where does that leave small towns next door like Gerlach, NV: pop. 465? We talk to one struggling town about what happens next.
GUESTS
- Tom Harris, Resource Economics Prof, University of Nevada-Reno
Tammy Sparkes, owner, Empire Distributing grocery store
Cleo Smith, waitress, Bruno's Coffee Shop
:: Comfort & Joy
:: http://www.playajoy.org
:: http://www.playajoy.org
- Lassen Forge
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- Ugly Dougly
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- Here and there
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Ah, yes, because when one thinks of Mexico, or New Mexico, the first word that comes to mind is "wealth". But you are trying to change the subject. Somebody tried to suggest that the desert environment made attractive architecture an impossibility in that location. As these examples show, that's nonsense.lucky420 wrote:"cuz" is not appropriate grammar...duly noted. Now if the folks of Gerlach/N. Nevada could just find all that underground crude we could look like the Middle East too or at least like Beverly Hillbillies.
Further, the buildings you see in the first photo, from the city of Yazd, were built centuries before the commercial extraction and sale of oil, so unless the Persians have somehow managed to find a way to send wealth back in time, their current oil revenue is irrelevant in the context of this discussion, because it was not available to their ancestors when these buildings went up.
One can say much the same about historic Saudi architecture, as well.
Actually, the structure you saw in the foreground in the Saudi shot was a market, not a mosque, but good try, trying to suck me into the endless religion vs. atheism vs. agnosticism battle on this site. I do respect the effort and as a Chicagoan can't help but admire the underhandedness, but having lurked on this board before posting to it, I know better than to snap at that bait.Yes, Gerlach needs some religious structures. That would spice things up.
-
Bluemandrew
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Here and there wrote:blah blah blah blah blah blah......
wow, you're an opinionated one. I'm going to have to second OED's motion that you just shut the fuck up already. Why would you get so pissy and defensive about your stolen images?
Oh and bitching at people for trying to bait you in a trap? Really? From the same person who turned "USG Closing" to "Kill the white devil" in a few poorly written paragraphs?
Anyways...
Does anyone think there will be cheap land for grabs in Gerlach after the fat lady sings in june? Would be an awesome place to build big stuff to bring to BRC down the street...
- Here and there
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My reply to that can be found here. Remarkably, that asinine complaint was the intellectual high point of your post, so * plonk *Bluemandrew wrote:your stolen image
- Elderberry
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$3.00 a bag or 6 bags for $15.00JStep wrote:What does ice go for? And coffee since we're on the topic of the only two things I can expect to be asked for money to get.
Elderberry
When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle.
Then I realized that the Lord doesn't work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me
When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle.
Then I realized that the Lord doesn't work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me
- Sham
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An idle plant, an empty town
The gypsum quarry in Empire, Nev., supplied building materials for the housing industry — and a heart for the tiny town. With the plant dark, Empire's homes are fast emptying.
Reporting from Empire, Nev.— This state is scarred with remnants of quests to unearth riches beneath the desert.
Scores of Nevada gold- and silver-mining camps boomed momentarily before the ore petered out and the prospectors scattered. Yet, about 100 miles north of Reno, on the edge of the Black Rock Desert Wilderness, the community of Empire worried little about the ephemeral nature of other mining towns.
Theirs had bustled along since the 1920s — when Empire was named for a brand of plaster — and building materials giant U.S. Gypsum Corp. had run things for more than half a century. When Mike Norman was asked on his application in 2006 why he wanted a job here, he wrote: "To be able to work without fear of company closure; have been told this is a great company."
Norman, now 57, and his wife, Barbara, 54, moved from Montana so he could work at USG, the sole reason for Empire's survival. Employees would unearth gypsum at a nearby quarry and truck it to the large yellow plant with rust-colored smokestacks. There, assembly lines churned out plaster and drywall, key components in home construction.
Workers lived in the shadow of the whirring plant, and USG essentially served as mayor, police chief and landlord. Norman did a little bit of everything for the company, including tending to trash and sewers.
Before long, the Normans had woven themselves into the community, where almost everything sat on company land: the two churches, the nine-hole golf course, the store selling hot dogs and DVDs, the two-bedroom apartment that the couple rented for $125 a month. They planned to stay until Mike Norman retired.
They didn't foresee the housing crash that would rip apart the American economy — and Empire along with it. There was, after all, still gypsum left to mine.
Empire was founded by Pacific Portland Cement Co. for the gypsum. When Chicago-based USG took over in the late 1940s, it continued the town's singular focus. There were few other reasons to decamp off State Route 447, which skirts little more than brown peaks and bulbous tufa rocks on its path north of Interstate 80.
In time, there were enough households, here and in the neighboring blip of Gerlach, to fill a two-page phone directory. (The combined population grew to about 500 by 2000, with the majority in Empire.) Locals survived partly on pluck. The Lions Club, for a time, provided ambulance service in a station wagon.
Anna Marks, now 52, arrived in the 1960s when her father was transferred from a USG operation in California. The family rented a blue-roofed home the company had selected for them.
Marks' dad was the plant's quality supervisor. Her mom raised three kids and worked at the general store, which, when it opened, cut down on how often locals had to trek to "town" — meaning two hours to Reno — for groceries. When Marks was in 10th grade, in 1975, the family was uprooted again.
But she so enjoyed her childhood here that she returned as an adult. Then left again. And returned once more, to an apartment not far from the Normans'. While Marks, her husband, Anthony, and their three children missed city conveniences, the cheap rent allowed them to sock away cash.
"I think living here screws you up about money. You're used to living on so little," said Marks' 22-year-old daughter, Monica.
There were other advantages to living in a place where directions involve first names ("Turn right at Anna's house"). Keeping teenagers in line was a cinch. When one of Marks' sons was revving his father's Camaro outside the store, someone immediately ratted him out. The town manager could kick out families who failed to hold their liquor or their tempers.
Marks intended to stay put until she retired from the plant.
A decade ago, hurt by multimillion-dollar asbestos claims, USG filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. It emerged in 2006, its sales booming, just before the real estate market began to collapse. "There are just too many homes," said USG spokesman Robert Williams. "The whole country overbuilt."
In 2010, USG announced the permanent closure of five facilities nationwide, including one in South Gate.
It was early December in Empire, and quarry manager Steve Conley had a rotten feeling about the upcoming company meeting. The housing crisis had continued to shred USG's profitability. Sales had plummeted from $5.8 billion to $2.9 billion in four years.
The recession pummeled Nevada harder than most states. Not much need for drywall when two-thirds of homeowners were underwater on their mortgages, and entire neighborhoods were deserted. Operations here had recently been trimmed to a few days a week.
Conley, 58, grew up in Empire and married his wife, Judy, at local St. Joseph the Worker Catholic Church. They live in Gerlach, across from his parents, in a home with a fireplace mantel he carved from the leftovers of a wooden tram that ferried gypsum. He'd worked for USG for 40 years.
Something bad was brewing, co-workers told him. The plant was decades older than most USG facilities and couldn't spit out drywall as quickly. It had purred along partly on orders for oddly sized wallboard, which had fallen off with the recession. Conley expected more cuts to hours or pay.
Empire had survived economic turmoil before. In the 1970s, managers laid off employees and boarded up much of 4th Street. "All of a sudden, the economy went boom and they couldn't hire fast enough," Conley recalled.
Even as rumors of the plant's demise circulated in 2009 as housing construction cratered, Empire held on. Lately, the company had spent money fixing up dwellings near where workers lived.
Still, Conley had an uneasy feeling the day he shuffled into the town's community center for the company meeting. Mike Norman was there. Anna Marks too. They braced for some kind of announcement. The plant manager stood up.
We're shutting down.
Silence.
The next half-hour was a blur of explanations. How production would halt that month, how the plant would go dark the next. How families could linger until the school year's end, in June. How the company hoped the plant was just being idled and not closed.
The meeting broke up, and Norman rushed home to his wife, who heaved with sobs.
Marks tried to swallow her grief. Because her husband worked elsewhere, he was one of the few people in town still employed.
By the time Conley spoke to his wife, she'd already heard the news. An administrative secretary at the local school, she'd been enjoying a day off when her substitute called: The students had found out and were inconsolable.
Empire was one of two sites the company idled. The Conleys, probably like many employees, felt conflicted. USG helped them put two children through college. But Judy, 57, still felt betrayed. "It almost does feel like somebody forgot us and forgot about Empire," she said.
During the quarry's final weeks, Conley struggled to go to work. He and his crew barricaded the quarry, rid it of chemicals, posted no-trespassing signs. The plant where Marks had worked was stripped down and welded shut.
The plant's lights had once illuminated Empire. Now drivers passed by a clutch of inky husks.
Conley decided to retire, while Judy hoped to hold on to her job at the red-roofed school complex in Gerlach. The campus started the fall with 82 students. Maybe 10 would remain. Departing students panicked about heading to bigger cities and classrooms. They begged to buy their cross-country and volleyball uniforms as keepsakes.
For weeks after the plant closed, Judy wouldn't drive through Empire. It stung too much. Five years from retiring herself, she isn't sure what she'll do if the campus is whittled down to one room, which district officials are considering. She and her husband have no desire to move.
Third Street, where the Normans live, started to resemble the ghostly cul-de-sacs elsewhere in Nevada and California, where much of the plant's products had been shipped. By late February, apartments were stripped of furniture and curtains, lawns cluttered with discarded love seats. Winter's chill had browned the golf course and denuded the trees.
Barbara Norman wanted to rake the yard one day, but her husband stopped her. "What's the point?" he said.
Every day, Empire crumbles a little more. When Barbara walks their black cocker spaniel, Crumpet, he bolts to the same house and barks. No response. The Normans' friends, and their dog, have moved.
"People are just disappearing around me," Barbara said.
That's true. In the end, Empire's population will likely shrink to the three people who don't live in company-owned housing: a couple who built a brick home near the village, and a woman who works and lives at the store.
Barbara tears up watching her home shrivel into yet another ghost town while Mike looks for work.
His best prospect is a job at one of Nevada's thriving gold mines.
The gypsum quarry in Empire, Nev., supplied building materials for the housing industry — and a heart for the tiny town. With the plant dark, Empire's homes are fast emptying.
Reporting from Empire, Nev.— This state is scarred with remnants of quests to unearth riches beneath the desert.
Scores of Nevada gold- and silver-mining camps boomed momentarily before the ore petered out and the prospectors scattered. Yet, about 100 miles north of Reno, on the edge of the Black Rock Desert Wilderness, the community of Empire worried little about the ephemeral nature of other mining towns.
Theirs had bustled along since the 1920s — when Empire was named for a brand of plaster — and building materials giant U.S. Gypsum Corp. had run things for more than half a century. When Mike Norman was asked on his application in 2006 why he wanted a job here, he wrote: "To be able to work without fear of company closure; have been told this is a great company."
Norman, now 57, and his wife, Barbara, 54, moved from Montana so he could work at USG, the sole reason for Empire's survival. Employees would unearth gypsum at a nearby quarry and truck it to the large yellow plant with rust-colored smokestacks. There, assembly lines churned out plaster and drywall, key components in home construction.
Workers lived in the shadow of the whirring plant, and USG essentially served as mayor, police chief and landlord. Norman did a little bit of everything for the company, including tending to trash and sewers.
Before long, the Normans had woven themselves into the community, where almost everything sat on company land: the two churches, the nine-hole golf course, the store selling hot dogs and DVDs, the two-bedroom apartment that the couple rented for $125 a month. They planned to stay until Mike Norman retired.
They didn't foresee the housing crash that would rip apart the American economy — and Empire along with it. There was, after all, still gypsum left to mine.
Empire was founded by Pacific Portland Cement Co. for the gypsum. When Chicago-based USG took over in the late 1940s, it continued the town's singular focus. There were few other reasons to decamp off State Route 447, which skirts little more than brown peaks and bulbous tufa rocks on its path north of Interstate 80.
In time, there were enough households, here and in the neighboring blip of Gerlach, to fill a two-page phone directory. (The combined population grew to about 500 by 2000, with the majority in Empire.) Locals survived partly on pluck. The Lions Club, for a time, provided ambulance service in a station wagon.
Anna Marks, now 52, arrived in the 1960s when her father was transferred from a USG operation in California. The family rented a blue-roofed home the company had selected for them.
Marks' dad was the plant's quality supervisor. Her mom raised three kids and worked at the general store, which, when it opened, cut down on how often locals had to trek to "town" — meaning two hours to Reno — for groceries. When Marks was in 10th grade, in 1975, the family was uprooted again.
But she so enjoyed her childhood here that she returned as an adult. Then left again. And returned once more, to an apartment not far from the Normans'. While Marks, her husband, Anthony, and their three children missed city conveniences, the cheap rent allowed them to sock away cash.
"I think living here screws you up about money. You're used to living on so little," said Marks' 22-year-old daughter, Monica.
There were other advantages to living in a place where directions involve first names ("Turn right at Anna's house"). Keeping teenagers in line was a cinch. When one of Marks' sons was revving his father's Camaro outside the store, someone immediately ratted him out. The town manager could kick out families who failed to hold their liquor or their tempers.
Marks intended to stay put until she retired from the plant.
A decade ago, hurt by multimillion-dollar asbestos claims, USG filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. It emerged in 2006, its sales booming, just before the real estate market began to collapse. "There are just too many homes," said USG spokesman Robert Williams. "The whole country overbuilt."
In 2010, USG announced the permanent closure of five facilities nationwide, including one in South Gate.
It was early December in Empire, and quarry manager Steve Conley had a rotten feeling about the upcoming company meeting. The housing crisis had continued to shred USG's profitability. Sales had plummeted from $5.8 billion to $2.9 billion in four years.
The recession pummeled Nevada harder than most states. Not much need for drywall when two-thirds of homeowners were underwater on their mortgages, and entire neighborhoods were deserted. Operations here had recently been trimmed to a few days a week.
Conley, 58, grew up in Empire and married his wife, Judy, at local St. Joseph the Worker Catholic Church. They live in Gerlach, across from his parents, in a home with a fireplace mantel he carved from the leftovers of a wooden tram that ferried gypsum. He'd worked for USG for 40 years.
Something bad was brewing, co-workers told him. The plant was decades older than most USG facilities and couldn't spit out drywall as quickly. It had purred along partly on orders for oddly sized wallboard, which had fallen off with the recession. Conley expected more cuts to hours or pay.
Empire had survived economic turmoil before. In the 1970s, managers laid off employees and boarded up much of 4th Street. "All of a sudden, the economy went boom and they couldn't hire fast enough," Conley recalled.
Even as rumors of the plant's demise circulated in 2009 as housing construction cratered, Empire held on. Lately, the company had spent money fixing up dwellings near where workers lived.
Still, Conley had an uneasy feeling the day he shuffled into the town's community center for the company meeting. Mike Norman was there. Anna Marks too. They braced for some kind of announcement. The plant manager stood up.
We're shutting down.
Silence.
The next half-hour was a blur of explanations. How production would halt that month, how the plant would go dark the next. How families could linger until the school year's end, in June. How the company hoped the plant was just being idled and not closed.
The meeting broke up, and Norman rushed home to his wife, who heaved with sobs.
Marks tried to swallow her grief. Because her husband worked elsewhere, he was one of the few people in town still employed.
By the time Conley spoke to his wife, she'd already heard the news. An administrative secretary at the local school, she'd been enjoying a day off when her substitute called: The students had found out and were inconsolable.
Empire was one of two sites the company idled. The Conleys, probably like many employees, felt conflicted. USG helped them put two children through college. But Judy, 57, still felt betrayed. "It almost does feel like somebody forgot us and forgot about Empire," she said.
During the quarry's final weeks, Conley struggled to go to work. He and his crew barricaded the quarry, rid it of chemicals, posted no-trespassing signs. The plant where Marks had worked was stripped down and welded shut.
The plant's lights had once illuminated Empire. Now drivers passed by a clutch of inky husks.
Conley decided to retire, while Judy hoped to hold on to her job at the red-roofed school complex in Gerlach. The campus started the fall with 82 students. Maybe 10 would remain. Departing students panicked about heading to bigger cities and classrooms. They begged to buy their cross-country and volleyball uniforms as keepsakes.
For weeks after the plant closed, Judy wouldn't drive through Empire. It stung too much. Five years from retiring herself, she isn't sure what she'll do if the campus is whittled down to one room, which district officials are considering. She and her husband have no desire to move.
Third Street, where the Normans live, started to resemble the ghostly cul-de-sacs elsewhere in Nevada and California, where much of the plant's products had been shipped. By late February, apartments were stripped of furniture and curtains, lawns cluttered with discarded love seats. Winter's chill had browned the golf course and denuded the trees.
Barbara Norman wanted to rake the yard one day, but her husband stopped her. "What's the point?" he said.
Every day, Empire crumbles a little more. When Barbara walks their black cocker spaniel, Crumpet, he bolts to the same house and barks. No response. The Normans' friends, and their dog, have moved.
"People are just disappearing around me," Barbara said.
That's true. In the end, Empire's population will likely shrink to the three people who don't live in company-owned housing: a couple who built a brick home near the village, and a woman who works and lives at the store.
Barbara tears up watching her home shrivel into yet another ghost town while Mike looks for work.
His best prospect is a job at one of Nevada's thriving gold mines.
