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By R.F.M. McInnis
 Have you ever noticed a town that's lost all its grain
elevators?
That's just it. You don't see it. You drive right past without
paying much attention. The town is lost forever in a flat wasteland
of dizzying prairie space outside your fast-moving car's window, a
blur of trees and a few white shapes of bungalow-style houses, if
there is anything to notice at all.
This is the scene all across the prairie of 1998, as more and
more elevators are torn down. At a rate of a hundred each year it is
happening. Few towns have been left unscathed as the jaws of heavy
machinery move in and eat into the aged, dry wood like so many old
forest trees. Chewing, chewing, the jaws cut a deep
gouge near the elevator's base until at last, with a mighty push,
the creaking structure folds in on itself, spewing a massive cloud
of dust in the direction of the gaping spectators who line the
nearby roads.
 Many of these structures have stood since the turn of the
century. Many were built during the wheat boom and co-operative
movement of the 1920s. Some towns are lucky enough to have newer
ones, built after 1924, or located on railway lines that are still
intact. These elevators may survive this most recent round of
destruction. But for how long?
This development was brought about as railway companies abandoned
more lines in an effort to rationalize their unprofitable prairie
branch lines. Nor did it make sense for the elevators every 10 to 14
miles as during the 1930s. Modern trucks allowed the
transportation of grain over greater distances. Elevators could now
be located 20 or 30 miles apart. Taxes paid to towns and land values
were additional considerations for the elevator companies, as well
as escalating costs. The inability to expand facilities to 50 or 60
car spotting areas, instead of the current 6 to 20 car availability,
was also a factor. Grain companies have elected to go the way of the
mega-elevator or inland elevator instead. Unit trains of 100 cars
can be loaded at these in 10 to 24 hours, without the need to stop
at every country elevator along the way. Such huge concrete
structures can hold between 720, 000 and 1.6 million bushels. These
big inland elevators are usually located on less expensive lands
outside the towns. They seem out of context with the surrounding
golden wheat fields. They are not part of their locations, unlike
the earlier elevators that seemed to form an aesthetic and
harmonious centre for the town. We all knew they would go someday. I
knew it when I first arrived on the prairie with my camera more than
20 years ago and started photographing them.
But who would have thought that the demise would come so quickly,
within our lifetime? It makes me glad that I was diligent in running
around the province recording just about every surviving
historical elevator. After 20 years I amassed a large collection of
grain elevator photos that represented about 200 Alberta communities
as they used to appear. At the same time, I also collected images of
towns in Saskatchewan and Manitoba.
 When the Provincial Museum of Alberta expressed an interest in
this collection as a source of materials for a planned exhibition on
grain elevators, it provided the opportunity for me to sort an
assess what I had. I quickly decided that I had little need to
retain them all, so I offered to donate about 800 to the museum.
Research certainly is one of the main reasons for acquiring such
material. In donating two decades' documentation, this collection
adds to the museum's existing collection, and ensures that the
photos will have a purpose for future generations. The little
prairie towns will live forever through the photographs. It gives me
a sense of satisfaction knowing that my efforts have not been
wasted, and will not be lost like the elevators themselves.
Thanks to current technology, the collection will not only be
held at the Provincial Museum of Alberta in its photo library, it
will be stacked in a computer database under the subject heading
"grain elevators" and every print or slide will receive
its own catalogue number. Each photo is to be digitized and put on
compact disc for research and exhibit purposes.
 Who knows, perhaps someday I will be able to go to the Internet,
call up my own collection and download 800 images for my files. Then
the memory of the grain elevator would truly be preserved.
R.F.M.
McInnis is an artist who lives and works near Nanton,
Alberta. All images reproduced are original works of art
produced by the author Mr. McInnis
Article reprinted with permission of author and Alberta Museums
Review.
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