Farris and Company Slaughterhouse

Exploring the Abandoned Farris and Company Slaughterhouse in Jacksonville, Florida

Step inside the haunting remains of the Farris and Company Slaughterhouse with a 360-degree virtual urban exploration experience like no other. Located in Northern Florida, this long-abandoned industrial site offers a raw and unfiltered look into a forgotten piece of the region’s meatpacking history. The eerie silence, rusting machinery, and decaying infrastructure tell a story of a once-bustling facility now left to the elements.

Scroll through six immersive panoramic images that take you deep into the heart of this derelict structure. Move through each space at your own pace—look up, down, and all around—as you absorb the grim textures and gritty atmosphere that define the Farris and Company Slaughterhouse. This is more than a tour—it’s an invitation to step back in time through your screen and witness a chilling chapter of Northern Florida’s industrial past.

Click here to view it in fullscreen.

The Farris and Company Slaughterhouse in Jacksonville, Florida is a legendary site among urban explorers. Tucked away near old rail lines and cloaked in vines, this hulking four-story meatpacking plant has stood silent for decades. From its construction in the early 1920s to its abandonment mid-century, the slaughterhouse carries a rich history and plenty of eerie lore. In this blog post, we’ll dive into when and why it was built, how long it operated, the reasons it was abandoned, its historical significance, any other names it’s known by, the ghost stories whispered about it, and essential safety tips for those urban exploring in Florida who are tempted to venture into such abandoned in Florida sites.

Early History and Construction of Farris & Company

The story of the Farris and Company Slaughterhouse begins with the ambitions of a Syrian-American immigrant family in Jacksonville. Najeeb Easa Farris and his wife Eva initially ran a small dry goods store in the LaVilla neighborhood starting around 1910. As Jacksonville grew into Florida’s first major city driven by industry, the Farris family saw an opportunity in the meat trade. In 1921, Farris & Company was formally incorporated with a capital stock of $100,000 to expand into the meatpacking business. That same year, construction began on a dedicated slaughterhouse facility just west of downtown, near the city’s stockyards on West Beaver Street.

Construction Date: The slaughterhouse was built in 1921, with construction completing in 1922. Architect C.L. Brooks, a specialist in designing packing houses and cold storage plants, was hired to create a practical, large-capacity facility. The resulting structure was utilitarian by design – a massive four-story building with no frills. In fact, it cost an estimated $50,000 to construct, a considerable sum at the time. The building’s design followed industry guidelines for slaughterhouses: solid brick-and-concrete walls, minimal ornamentation, and a focus on functionality over form. This plain industrial style was deliberate, meant to keep costs down and serve the sole purpose of processing livestock into meat.

When it opened, the slaughterhouse stood adjacent to the National Stockyards, which were located at Beaver and King Streets. This proximity was strategic – rail spurs ran directly into the facility’s yard so that cattle and hogs could be delivered efficiently. Cattle pens and sheds were set up on the west side of the building, and an inclined ramp led animals up to the third floor, where the butchering process began. The layout was such that the messy business of slaughter and processing occurred on the upper floors (“the dirty side” of operations), while the ground floor housed cold storage, packing areas, and loading docks (“the clean side”) for shipping out finished products. By design, live animals entered on one end of the facility and packaged meat exited on the other, keeping the two processes separate.

From the outside, the Farris & Company plant was essentially a big white box of concrete and brick. It wasn’t built to win beauty contests, but to be a workhorse of industry. Even today, its imposing exterior looms over the weedy lot. Explorers often note how cavernous and labyrinthine the interior is, with a maze of corridors and rooms. Many passageways have been sealed off for decades, and some upper-level doors now open into thin air, adding to the perilous charm of the ruin. A tall, long-dead smokestack still stands sentinel beside a narrow stairwell, hinting at the facility’s former capacity for heavy industrial work.

Operation and Use: Nearly Four Decades of Meatpacking

Once completed in 1922, the Farris and Company Slaughterhouse quickly became a crucial part of Jacksonville’s industrial scene. How long was it in operation? The plant operated for almost four decades, from the early 1920s until the late 1950s. During this time, it was a major regional meatpacking plant, processing cattle and hogs and supplying meat products across Florida and beyond. The daily capacity of the facility, as designed, was impressive for its era – up to 100 head of cattle and several hundred hogs could be handled each day. This output helped feed a growing population and fulfilled contracts for big packing companies.

What was it used for? In short, Farris & Company was used for slaughtering animals and processing meat on a wholesale scale. It was not a public butcher or market, but rather a wholesale meatpacking operation. Farris & Co. would receive livestock (cattle and pigs), slaughter them on site, and then cut, pack, and ship the meat to grocers, butchers, and other clients. Historical records show that over the years, Farris & Company’s product line included everything from fresh cuts to cured and specialty items. They produced and sold neck-bones, beef liver, pig tails, bologna, ribs, white bacon, and “Florida smoke bacon,” among other products. Essentially, if it could be butchered and sold, Farris & Company likely handled it. Advertisements and accounts from the time indicate the company served retail merchants (like grocery stores and restaurants) rather than individual consumers. Fleet trucks with refrigeration would depart the Beaver Street plant to deliver meat to merchants in cities across Florida, while salesmen rode along to take new orders. This distribution model kept products cold and fresh in an age before widespread refrigerated shipping, ensuring that customers received quality meats without spoilage.

At its peak, the Farris slaughterhouse was one of several meatpacking businesses in Jacksonville’s Rail Yard District (an area so named for the network of railroad tracks serving the industry). Competitors and contemporaries included national firms like Armour & Company and other local operations, but Farris & Company held its own. Its success was a point of pride for the local Syrian-American community as well. The Farris family, having started from a small dry goods store, had built a thriving enterprise that became a cornerstone of the city’s economy. For Jacksonville, which at the time was an industrial powerhouse in Florida, having a large meatpacking plant was part of its identity. The city’s early development was fueled by manufacturing and processing industries – from shipbuilding to cigar making – and the Farris slaughterhouse was very much a product of that boom.

Through the 1930s and 1940s, the slaughterhouse underwent some expansions and upgrades. Records indicate that additions were built onto the original structure in 1934 and again in 1948 to increase cold storage and processing capacity. The largest expansion was a three-story reinforced concrete addition on the east side of the building, completed in 1949. If you visit the site today, you can actually see the difference between the original 1921 brick section and the later concrete addition – a testament to how the business kept growing. The north elevation (front face) of the building shows the two phases: the older brick facade and the newer utilitarian concrete wing side by side.

Farris & Company thrived for decades, but it wasn’t just slaughtering and selling meat. It also weaved into Jacksonville’s social and economic fabric. The company was known to advertise in community yearbooks and participate in civic life, supporting local groups. It even found itself in a couple of legal battles significant enough to reach the Florida Supreme Court, reflecting the complexity of running a meatpacking operation that shipped products over state lines. (One 1933 case involved a Farris salesman and city taxes on meat sales, and another 1940 case dealt with a dispute over a rail shipment of beef.) These tidbits underscore that Farris & Company was a substantial enterprise with wide reach.

By the 1950s, the slaughterhouse had become an established piece of Jacksonville’s industrial landscape. It employed numerous workers, from butchers and plant laborers to drivers and office staff – including members of the Farris family itself. The surrounding area near West Beaver Street was filled with the sounds and smells of a working packing house: livestock pens, the rumble of railcars, trucks coming and going, and the ever-present scent of a meat processing operation. It is hard to imagine today, when the building sits deathly quiet, that it was once a hive of such activity.

The Fire and Abandonment: Why It Was Abandoned

Every boom has its bust, and for the Farris and Company Slaughterhouse, the end came rather abruptly. The facility did not gradually phase out or simply fade away due to declining business – instead, it was brought down by disaster. In the late 1950s, a fire broke out that sealed the slaughterhouse’s fate. According to historical accounts, one night in 1958 company president Emmett Farris received a phone call no business owner ever wants: the plant was on fire.

This fire in 1958 was reportedly the result of a botched burglary attempt. It spread through the building, destroying the administrative offices and much of the interior infrastructure. More critically for the business, the blaze ruined a huge stock of meat products in storage – all the inventory that was ready to be shipped out. The timing and severity of the loss proved devastating. Farris & Company suddenly found itself unable to fulfill its supply contracts, including major ones with Armour and Hormel, which were big meat distributors who counted on Farris’s products. With its facility crippled and contractual obligations unmet, the company had little choice but to cease operations.

When and why was it abandoned? The slaughterhouse closed its doors in 1958 as an immediate consequence of the fire damage. In a matter of days, a business that had thrived for nearly 40 years was effectively dead. The fire was the primary reason – it was a catastrophic event from which the company could not recover financially. The processing equipment and plant infrastructure were likely severely damaged, and the loss of inventory meant a huge financial hit without the cash flow to bounce back. Rather than rebuild, the Farris family ended operations. The era of the Farris slaughterhouse had come to an end.

After the closure in 1958, the big white building on Beaver Street stood empty, but not for long. In the early 1960s, the facility found a brief second life in a new role. It was repurposed as a cold storage warehouse for the N.G. Wade Investment Company (Neil Gillespie Wade Co.). In this period, the slaughterhouse wasn’t slaughtering animals anymore; instead, it likely stored frozen foods or other goods in its large refrigerated rooms. This reuse didn’t last too many years, but it delayed the complete abandonment of the building. By the late 20th century, however, the building had no active purpose and was left to decay.

For decades, the old Farris & Company plant sat in a kind of limbo – not demolished, but not maintained either. Weeds overtook the loading bays, and graffiti artists treated the expansive walls as a canvas. Nature began to reclaim the structure, with ivy snaking up the once-white exterior and small trees taking root in cracks. The site’s location in a gritty industrial part of town meant it was mostly forgotten by the general public, save for curious explorers or locals who remembered its past.

Interestingly, in 2001 the property saw a new owner move in (though not to restart the slaughterhouse). A demolition contracting firm called Lockwood Quality Demolition, Inc. began using the site as its home base. This meant the land and maybe some outbuildings were used for storing heavy equipment and demolition materials. The slaughterhouse building itself, however, remained essentially abandoned – even the demolition company didn’t tear it down. Thus, the once-bustling abattoir continued to stand as an industrial relic amid the company’s storage yard. In a twist of fate, a structure built so sturdily to be “fireproof” and efficient had outlived its original purpose by many years, avoided demolition, and became a monument of sorts to a bygone era.

Historical Significance and Other Names

The Farris and Company Slaughterhouse holds significant historic value for Jacksonville and Florida. For one, it represents the entrepreneurial spirit of the early 20th-century immigrant communities. Najeeb Farris, the founder, was part of a wave of Syrian (and broader Middle Eastern) immigrants who made their mark on Jacksonville’s economy. The success of Farris & Company highlighted how these immigrants contributed to industrial growth despite facing social challenges of the time (such as discrimination during the Jim Crow era). This slaughterhouse was likely one of the largest enterprises founded by a Syrian-American in the region, making it a point of pride and historical interest in the story of Arab-American heritage in Jacksonville.

In the context of industrial history, Farris & Company was part of Jacksonville’s transformation into an economic hub. By the early 1900s, Jacksonville wasn’t just a port city – it was an industrial center with factories, mills, shipyards, and packing houses driving employment. The slaughterhouse is a surviving example of that era. Many other industrial structures of that time have since been demolished or redeveloped, but this building still stands. In fact, at roughly 96 years old (as of a few years ago), it remains standing “as a memory of Jacksonville’s early 20th century industrial prowess”. Urban historians and preservationists see it as a tangible link to the past – one that has stories to tell about how food was produced and distributed in the mid-1900s, and how Jacksonville once led the state in manufacturing infrastructure.

Other Names: Besides the formal name Farris and Company Slaughterhouse, the site has been known by a few other references over time. In old business directories and newspapers it might simply be called Farris & Company Meat Packing Plant or Farris Packing House. Locals today often refer to it as the Beaver Street slaughterhouse (after the road it’s on) or just the old slaughterhouse by the stockyards. Some documents drop “Slaughterhouse” and call it Farris & Co. Wholesale Meats. Essentially, any mention of “Farris & Company” in Jacksonville’s historical context is likely referring to this meatpacking business and its facility. After its operational years, when it was used for storage, it didn’t really acquire a new name – people still recognized it as the former Farris slaughterhouse. It’s worth noting that because Armour & Company also had a presence in the area, some folks mistakenly think the abandoned building was an Armour meat plant, but it was indeed owned and run by the Farris family (Armour’s own facility was separate). Today, among urban explorers, it’s common to just call it “the old Farris Slaughterhouse.”

Rumors, Ghost Stories, and Urban Legends

No abandoned slaughterhouse would be complete without a few ghost stories, and the Farris & Company plant is no exception. There’s something about the very idea of a slaughterhouse – a place of blood and death – falling silent that stirs the imagination. Over the years, local rumor mills have attributed all sorts of supernatural folklore to the site. Is it truly haunted? That depends on who you ask, but the stories certainly add to the thrill for those who dare to explore it.

One popular local rumor is that the echoes of the past still linger in the building. Some urban explorers have claimed to hear strange noises echoing through the empty halls – not just the scurrying of animals or creaking of old metal, but sounds that resemble muffled voices or even the distant bellowing of cows. The imagery of ghostly livestock haunting the place has been a recurring theme in these tales. Visitors sometimes joke (nervously) about hearing the “moans of ghost cows” or the clanking of phantom machinery on the kill floor in the dead of night. While these sounds can often be chalked up to wind, wildlife, or the power of suggestion, they nevertheless contribute to the slaughterhouse’s eerie reputation.

There are also stories of apparitions sighted on the property. A few people have reported seeing a shadowy figure peering from the broken windows on the upper floors. Descriptions vary – some say it’s the silhouette of a man (perhaps a former worker or the spirit of Najeeb Farris himself, as one colorful tale suggests), while others have claimed to see the shape of animals in the darkness. One bit of folklore mentions bloodstains that reappear on the floor even after rain washes the place – likely pure legend, but it adds to the spooky lore that makes the rounds near Halloween.

In Jacksonville’s paranormal circles, the old slaughterhouse doesn’t enjoy the same notoriety as, say, the famously haunted schoolhouse (Public School No. 4) or other well-known haunts. However, those who have ventured inside on ghost-hunting missions will tell you that the atmosphere alone is enough to raise the hair on your arms. The building’s interior is a perfect setting for frights: shafts of light cutting through slats in boarded windows, illuminating drifting dust; graffiti on the walls that takes on sinister shapes in the flicker of a flashlight; and the constant drip of water echoing, which can easily be mistaken for footsteps. The sheer emptiness can play tricks on even the most skeptical mind.

Some urban explorers have given the slaughterhouse nicknames befitting its creepy vibe. A tongue-in-cheek moniker like “Castle of Carcosa” was inspired by a comparison to a horror-fiction location, and reflects how the building’s decaying grandeur sparks the imagination. In reality, whether or not any ghosts roam its chambers, the Farris Slaughterhouse is undeniably atmospheric. The combination of its violent history (so many animals met their end here) and its current state of decay makes it easy to believe it could be haunted. At the very least, it’s a place where you can sense the weight of history – and maybe a few unseen eyes – watching you.

It’s important to note that these ghost stories remain folklore and personal accounts. There’s no documented evidence of any tragic human death on the site (the fire occurred after hours and didn’t reportedly kill anyone), which usually fuels true hauntings. Most likely, the supernatural tales are a mix of imagination and the natural creepiness of an abandoned slaughterhouse. Whether you’re a believer in ghosts or not, exploring the place certainly feels like walking into a horror movie scene, and that alone is enough to give anyone the chills.

Urban Exploration Today: What to Expect

For urban explorers, the Farris and Company Slaughterhouse is a tantalizing destination. It’s a massive abandoned building with multiple floors to discover, steeped in history and largely untouched by modern development. However, it’s also a site that demands caution and respect. Here’s what an explorer can expect and some safety tips for urban explorers interested in this or similar abandoned sites.

Present Condition: The slaughterhouse today is in a state of advanced decay. The exterior, once white, is now mottled with peeling paint, algae, and graffiti. Large vines and vegetation crawl over the walls, especially on the older brick sections. The roof has several holes, and you can spot rusted steel and crumbling concrete at the edges. Inside, the conditions vary by floor. The ground floor – which used to be the cold storage and packing area – is littered with debris. Old industrial freezers, broken pallets, and even remnants of office furniture and paperwork might be scattered about. There are pits and drains in the floors that once served as blood traps and cleaning stations – these now fill with rainwater and create slick hazards. The upper floors, where the actual slaughter and processing occurred, are largely empty rooms now, but with features like hooks in the ceiling, rails, and chutes hinting at their past use. Sunlight streams in through empty window frames, illuminating graffiti murals that local artists (or vandals, depending on your view) have left behind.

Walking through the place, you’ll likely find evidence that others have been there before you: spray-painted tags, the remains of a makeshift skateboard ramp from daring youths, or a fire pit where someone might have camped out. You may also encounter wildlife. Pigeons flutter in the rafters, bats might roost in the darker nooks, and feral cats or raccoons could be hiding in the shadows. In the overgrown yard, it’s not uncommon to find snakes or plenty of mosquitoes – this is Florida, after all.

The structure is basically a big concrete shell, but don’t let that fool you into thinking it’s entirely safe – decades of neglect mean structural instability in places. There are reports of sections of flooring that have collapsed, especially where water damage has been persistent. Rusted railings or ladders can give way if you put weight on them. Additionally, there’s likely asbestos in old insulation and lead in the peeling paint, typical of early 20th-century industrial sites – something to keep in mind if you kick up a lot of dust or plan to disturb materials.

Despite these dangers, the slaughterhouse remains a favorite spot for seasoned urban explorers in Jacksonville. Its combination of historical significance and adrenaline-pumping environment makes it a unique adventure. It’s also a great subject for photography – the interplay of light and shadow in the ruins can make for stunning photos, and the juxtaposition of nature overtaking an industrial site is visually compelling.

However, anyone thinking of exploring should be properly prepared. Below are some safety tips and considerations before you go (these apply not just to Farris Slaughterhouse but urban exploring in Florida generally):

Safety Tips for Urban Explorers

Never Go Alone: Always explore with a buddy or a group. In an unsafe environment like an abandoned slaughterhouse, having someone with you can be lifesaving if an accident happens or if you encounter unexpected trouble. Plus, it helps to have an extra set of eyes and ears in a place known for eerie vibes.
Protective Gear: Wear sturdy boots (preferably steel-toe) to guard against nails or broken glass on the ground. A hard hat and gloves are smart for a site with falling hazards and sharp metal edges. Given the likelihood of asbestos and other particulates, consider wearing a quality dust mask or respirator inside.
Stay on Solid Ground: Watch every step. Stick to areas that seem structurally sound – avoid climbing onto questionable staircases, ladders, or upper floors that show signs of rot. Remember that some floors may have weakened over time. If a section looks sketchy (sagging beams, cracked concrete, holes), assume it is sketchy and stay clear.
Be Mindful of the Environment: Florida’s climate means critters. Check dark corners for snakes or spiders before sticking your hand there. If exploring in warm months, apply bug spray; stagnant water on-site breeds mosquitoes. Also, be aware that the site could harbor stray animals (or even the occasional person seeking shelter). Make noise as you enter to alert any animals to your presence so you don’t startle them.
Bring the Right Equipment: A bright flashlight (and a backup) is essential, as many interior sections are pitch black even in daytime. Carry a fully charged cellphone and consider a two-way radio if your group splits up inside. It’s also wise to have a first aid kit in your backpack for minor injuries. For photographers, a tripod is useful in low light – just be careful where you set it down.
Respect the Law and Property: No directions or address are provided here for a reason – the slaughterhouse sits on private property (currently used by a demolition company). Technically, entering without permission is trespassing. Urban explorers often operate in legal gray areas, but you should be aware of the risk. Sometimes such sites have security patrols or neighbors who might call police if they see intruders. If you choose to go, do so discreetly and understand the potential legal consequences. It’s always best to seek permission to explore, if possible.
Leave No Trace: This is a key ethos in the urban exploring community. Take only photographs and leave the site as you found it. The Farris Slaughterhouse has stood for decades – don’t accelerate its destruction. Avoid vandalism, graffiti, or stealing artifacts as souvenirs. By keeping the location intact, you allow future explorers to enjoy the same experience. Plus, less evidence of intrusion means authorities are less likely to seal it up or increase security.
Stay Aware and Calm: In a spooky, silent place, it’s easy for your mind to play tricks. If you hear an odd noise, pause and investigate safely – don’t sprint for the exit and risk injury. Likely it’s just an animal or the wind. Staying calm and rational will help you handle any situation, whether it’s a sudden floor creak or an unexpected encounter with another explorer.

Exploring the Farris and Company Slaughterhouse can be an unforgettable experience. You get to walk through a piece of Florida’s history – seeing the giant hooks in the ceiling, the old rail loading docks, and the eerie empty corridors where workers once hurried to and fro. It’s like stepping back in time, with a side order of goosebumps from the ghost stories that inevitably come to mind. Just remember that safety and respect for the site are paramount.

Conclusion

The Farris and Company Slaughterhouse in Jacksonville is more than just an abandoned building; it’s a landmark of a bygone industrial age. Constructed in 1921 as a state-of-the-art meatpacking plant, it served the community’s needs for nearly 40 years. Its walls have witnessed the bustling growth of a family business, the toil of workers carving out a living, and the flames that abruptly ended its operational life in 1958. Today, the slaughterhouse stands in ghostly quiet – an enduring reminder of the city’s heritage and a magnet for the adventurous. Whether you’re drawn by historical curiosity, the thrill of exploring something abandoned in Florida, or the shiver of ghostly legends on a midnight tour, the Farris slaughterhouse captures the imagination.

As urban explorers, when we step onto such a site, we become storytellers in our own right – retelling the history through our photos and experiences, and perhaps even adding our own chapter (hopefully not a cautionary tale!). The Farris & Company Slaughterhouse offers plenty of material for those stories: the date it was built, the decades it thrived, the moment it fell, the legends that envelop it now, and the lessons it holds about safety and respect. It’s a place where the past and present meet in concrete and shadow. So if you ever find yourself in Jacksonville’s industrial backroads, and you see that looming white edifice by the old rail yard, you’ll know what lies beyond its cracked gates. And if you’re brave enough to venture in (with precautions, of course), you’ll carry a piece of its story with you – just as it will undoubtedly leave an impression on you.

Happy (and safe) exploring!

If you liked this blog post, you might be interested in learning about the abandoned multi-story office building in Jacksonville, the Cotton Belt Freight Depot in Missouri, or the Barker’s Mill in Pennsylvania.