The old Cook County Hospital is a formidable beast; it’s been completely abandoned since 2002, and at almost 250,000 square feet, it took me an entire day to thoroughly explore. I only wish the other 950,000 square feet weren’t obliterated in 2008.
For a year-and-a-half I drooled over the sheer mass of the largest abandoned hospital I had ever seen. I went back on at least four separate occasions, hoping to find some feasible entrance that I had overlooked on previous scouts. After much deliberation, it became apparent that this lovely Beaux-Arts masterpiece would have to be a pre-dawn affair if I was to have my way with her. Of course, no gentleman comes empty-handed, so I was sure to pick up a 20ft ladder (which I brought home on the train all the way from O’Hare) just for the occasion. I had to bribe the cabbie with $40 to let me shove the ladder through his cab–in one window, out the other, protruding very illegally ~6ft on either side for the entirety of the three-mile journey. I told him I had a very urgent painting gig to do with my uncle…
After scoping the place out for a few minutes, I took out the towel I brought, folded it up, and draped it over the top of the very pointy chain-link fence that surrounds the perimeter. This way, I was able to slide the heavy-ish ladder over to the other side with speed and silence. I had to hide for a while as the medical district security car made several laps back and forth shortly thereafter. I ran around to the back. To my surprise, it fell considerably short of the 2 ½-story windows, but not enough to ruin everything. I WAS IN! Finally! I put down a few things I decided I wouldn’t really need (some gaff tape, rope, small pocket knife, etc.), and the exploration began. The original plan was to pull the ladder inside at this point, but upon discovering a small collection of painting/construction equipment, I figured the ladder would just blend in.
They sealed it up pretty good, so the graffiti is thankfully VERY scant in this beautiful playground. Unfortunately, the place has been stripped of almost all medical equipment (trust me, spent 15 hours checking every room on every floor, including the basement). However, despite its lack of internal details, Cook County does possess one epic centerpiece that easily justifies the early rise: a very decrepit, 100-seat surgery auditorium.
This sweeping mass of cement, metal, and chipped paint can be found on the top floor, of course, where the sweetest treats in all hospitals are tucked away– minus the morgues, which tend to be lower down, but Old Cook County’s morgue must have been torn out in 2008. There is a very similar auditorium adjacent to this one, but the stage is cluttered with some mysterious junk, so I stuck to the main stage.
After I had my fill of the main course, I picked my teeth with some interesting icicles.
I started to work my way down, but when I looked out the window (on the left in this photo on the 5th floor) I could see a small crowd of people in the vacant lot below.
“OH, PISS!” I thought. I guess the ladder didn’t blend in with the construction gear as well as I had hoped. I hit the deck, and tore my respirator off to listen, praying not to hear the barking dogs, or the jingling of keys on an authoritative belt loop. But the noises never purged the illustrious yellow-brick façade, so after a good 20-minutes, I went about my mission. After the auditorium and the fear of prosecution, the rest of the place seemed a bit underwhelming. No hospital beds, no wheelchairs, no x-ray machines, not even a decent fuckin lonely chair to snap off a 79-stop HDR picture! Here are a few of the despondent relics I managed to find:
I had stayed up all night to ensure that I arrived as early as possible, and by now it was 5pm, and I was really starting to feel the effects of sleep deprivation and 4:00am take-out dining from 7/11. I was ready to leave, but the sun wouldn’t allow it, and I had to nap for a few hours on a pile of debris before making my escape. When I finally woke up, my way back to the point of entry, only to find that all of the items I had left there were GONE! They had come inside! They probably searched around the first few floors, but realized that they had 250,000 square feet against them, and gave up. Not before taking my ladder, of course. Even without a ladder, getting down wasn’t too hard. Again, I turned to the aid of the construction equipment, grabbing hold of a cable coming down from the roof. With gloved hands, I slid/fell to the ground, and while it did amply soften the blow, it would have been far too thin to use for the ascent. So, about $100 poorer, I hopped over the fence, back into the real world, relishing the riches of golden memories and silver halide.