Part 6 of personal reflections and historic explorations of the Grafton to Cairo length of Illinois Route 3 by writer and poet Richard Stimac.

I was once a zombie. A local indie production company filmed a horror movie in my hometown of Granite City, a Rust Belt steel town with more than enough on-location sets for any post-apocalyptic storyline. My ex had a bug for acting leftover from high school theatre, so she was gung ho. At the time, she dyed her hair with henna which showed up brightly on the screen. The director pulled her out of the horde for single zombie shots. In the credits, she and two other actors were listed as “zombies.” I stayed in the corps du mort. If you could freeze the jump cuts, you might be able to find me. My name and dozens of others fell under the title of “undead”.

Granite City was founded in 1896 by William and Frederick Niedringhaus, two Westphalian brothers who were part of the mid-19^th century immigration to the Midwest’s German Belt. They had developed the first granite enamelware production in the United States. To support their operations, they founded a planned company town on what for the time were enlightened management principles, like mortgaging homes to employees instead of renting. Within decades, Granite City became a centre for steel production and for Eastern and Southern European immigration. Many moved to the neighbourhood now bordered by Illinois Route 3.

ZOMBIES IN THE YMCA

The filming of the zombie movie took place in an abandoned downtown YMCA. The cast and crew found the building creepy. I was filled with nostalgia. As a kid, I took judo lessons in the corner of the dimly lit activities room. I played pickup basketball in the dusty gym. The climactic scene of the movie took place in the basement pool, then empty except for the deep end with feet of brackish water. The zombies trapped one of the main characters in the pool. We ripped his guts out. One of the zombies was played by the actor’s actual son. Everyone found the building unnervingly appealing. I was sad that my memories were now attached to the present state of the building, not a wistful view of the past.

Granite City YMCA (image: Richard Stimac).

Downtown Granite City hasn’t fared much better. There are empty lots and a few completely empty blocks. The city tried to vitalize this area that is bound by railroad tracks and defunct heavy industry. There is a new cinema that plays current releases but it’s no replacement for the Art Deco theatre I saw grindhouse movies that had cheap practical effects and the required topless woman scene, to my mom’s chagrin. A local social entrepreneur bought up numerous buildings for an artist colony, but this doesn’t replace the department stores, jewellers and diners. A local bus company built a transit station that takes up an entire block a few streets over from the now-closed new car dealerships. Downtown Granite City is trapped somewhere between dead and alive: somehow both, but not quite either.

Making a movie is an intensely complicated and tedious koan. During one of the first shoots outside a derelict prefab shed, the director and cinematographer argued about how the natural lighting affected the shot. The cinematographer quit. No one else, including the director, knew how to operate the equipment that well. He had to put himself through on-the-job training on his own dime. Our duty as zombies was a few seconds of us lumbering towards the two main characters. We did a lot of sitting around. The only dialogue in that scene was one line delivered by an actor who was an amateur in all the senses of the word. We heard that line spoken in a monotone lifeless voice dozens and dozens of times. By the end of the day, I wished that I were dead.

Granite City lock and dam (image: Richard Stimac).

POTUS AND POLITICS

In 2018, then President Donald Trump visited U.S. Steel’s Granite City Works. The real estate tycoon touted his steel tariffs and the long-term benefit they would bring to US manufacturing, including the city’s steel facilities. I recognised some of the union members in a video clip of Trump’s visit to Granite City, which had once been part of the Democrat’s Blue Wall in the Midwest.

When I first voted in the 1980s, no Republican candidates were on the ballot. That’s how Blue the area was. I worked at the mill for almost a year after I dropped out of college. One pay day, after the night shift, we stood in line at the pay shack that was in the middle of the parking lot. Before direct deposit, you had to manually show an ID to receive a physical cheque. A long-time Democrat state senator gave a stump speech from the roof of the pay shack. Yet, in the lunchroom, the main concerns were about the Japanese taking over the mill and the government taking away guns. Most Granite City polling districts voted overwhelmingly for Trump in 2024. In 2025, the Trump administration approved Nippon Steel’s acquisition of U.S. Steel. Both Granite City blast furnaces are currently idle. The blast furnace is the first step in making steel.

US Steel Granite City works (image: Richard Stimac).

FIFTEEN MINUTES OF FAME

The first screening of the zombie movie was at a St. Louis art house theatre that is now a non-denominational Christian church. Lots of friends and family of the cast and crew attended. Seeing a movie on the big screen with a full audience makes the experience better. The movie went over somewhat well. There were groans at some of the dialogue. Laughs during the romance scene, which was supposed to be serious and intimate. In the end, the movie received a standing ovation. I’ve checked in on it a few times since. The director screened it at horror film festivals. I saw it when he showed it in his backyard. The movie even received a few awards. I realized that it really is a pretty good indie zombie movie. You used to be able to buy a DVD copy directly from the production company for $25. That’s no longer available.

Author bio: Richard Stimac lives in the St. Louis area, Missouri, USA. He has published the poetry book Bricolage (Spartan Press), two poetry chapbooks, and one flash fiction chapbook. In his work, Richard explores time and memory through the landscape and humanscape of the St. Louis region. He invites you to follow his poetry page on Facebook.

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