Herman A. Breithaupt Des Moines Expert Zither Soloist and Chef

 

(colorized photo from the Des Moines Register. April 15, 1928)

Herman A. Breithaupt, an expert Zither Soloist, was featured in the Des Moines Register in April 1928. Born in Germany in 1896, he began playing the zither when he was ten. 

Breithaupt's other passion was cooking. He worked in the kitchen at the Hotel Savery III in Des Moines, where he cooked and trained new chefs in the culinary arts. He told his students, "A meal correctly combined, scientifically prepared, and properly masticated is necessary for a healthy body."

In his spare time, he lectured at schools and clubs on food preperation, recipes, and health.

He was fifty years ahead of his time in his belief that one day, high schools would train young men to be chefs and food scientists.

Advertisement Clemens Automobile Company Des Moines, Iowa

 

This advertisement for the 1915 Overland Model 80 automobile was published in the Des Moines Register, August 23, 1914. It was available from the Clemens Automobile Company, located at Fourth and Grand Avenue in Des Moines, Iowa.

Plans For The New Hyperion Club Des Moines 1909

 

(Picture from Des Moines Register. January 17, 1909)

In January 1909, the Des Moines Register published plans for the Hyperion Club, offering a glimpse of what was shaping up to be one of Des Moines’s more ambitious country clubs.

The Hyperion started out in 1904 as a dancing club, organized by about 19 members. Before long, the group shifted gears, reorganized as a country club, and grew to around 100 members.

By 1909, it was still growing. Membership had reached 225, and the club was clearly thinking bigger. Its grounds, near Waveland Park, covered 225 acres and included an 18-hole golf course laid out at full championship length.

The plan printed in the paper showed a sketch of a new clubhouse with plenty of extras. The building was to include family quarters, bachelor quarters, lockers, a bathhouse, and a billiard parlor. There was also to be a separate building called Bachelor’s Hall.

The club sat along the Perry Interurban Line, about a 35-minute ride from downtown Des Moines. That made it close enough for city members to get there with little trouble, while still feeling like a trip out of town.

Brown-Williams Auto Co. Advertisement Des Moines 1909

This advertisement for the Brown-Williams Auto Co. appeared in the Des Moines Register on January 17, 1909. The dealership was located at 512 Grand Avenue in Des Moines, Iowa.

 

Historic old Buildings in Des Moines

 

Des Moines in 1858

On September 30, 1906, the Des Moines Register ran a pictorial on the historic old building of Des Moines. I picked two of them to feature hereL  a look at Des Moines in 1858, and the Des Moine Hotel in 1855. Some of the other pictures not shown here included the Old Congregational Church in 1858, the first bridge on Walnut Street in 1866, and the D. F. C. Grunell House, built in 1848.

Artists' Sketch Proposed Fleming Building in Des Moines

The Des Moines Register printed an artists' sketch of the proposed Fleming Building in its September 30, 1906. The building was to be erected on the southwest corner of Sixth Avenue and Walnut Street. When completed, the ten story building would be the largest office building in the city, and one of the most expensive at a cost of $350,000. Each floor would house 28 offices.

Great Eagle Hearse Stops in Des Moines 1913

On the stranger side, the Great Eagle hearse from San Francisco made a stop in Des Moines in September 1913. The vehicle was carrying the body of Michael Moran whose last wish was to travel the continent one final time. The hearse was accompanied by undertaker R. H. Hambley; W. A. Peck, sales manager for the United carriage company; and R. A. MacBride, a Des Moines Undertaker.

Waveland Park Golf Club Des Moines

 

Waveland Park Clubhouse in 1913

Waveland Park Golf Club had nearly 250 members in 1913. Not bad for a club that started in 1907.

The present building went up in 1911 on ground leased from the city. It was three stories and built to be used.

The main floor held dining rooms, reception rooms, and a kitchen. Upstairs was a card room and a ladies’ locker room. The basement had another locker room and bath equipment. You could play 18 holes, eat, smoke, wash up, and sit down for cards without leaving the building.

The club met every week. There were smokers, card parties, and dances. The smokers meant cigars, speeches, and stories that improved with each telling. The card parties meant competition that lasted longer than daylight. The dances brought in the rest of the membership and made the place feel less like a sports club and more like a social one.

Mrs. Lewis Neff (Formerly Marjorie Love)

 

This photograph of Mrs. Lewis Neff, formerly Marjorie Love, was published in the Des Moines Register on March 11, 1923. She was the daughter of Otis G. Love. Mrs. Neff lived in New York where her husband worked in the export department of a large sugar company. (watercolor drawing of a black and white newspaper image)

Polk County Juvenile Home 1927

The Des Moines Register printed this picture of the Polk County Juvenile Home on March 15, 1927. The home was located at Hull Avenue and East Sixteenth Street in Des Moines.

Lewis Worthington Smith Drake University Poet

Lewis Worthington Smith was an English professor at Drake University from 1906 to 1940. He believed writing mattered. Style wasn’t decoration. Ideas should stand up to pressure.

He belonged to the Poetry Society of America and the Authors’ Club of London, alongside writers who shaped modern literature. Locally, he was active in Des Moines intellectual circles like the University Club and the Prairie Club. That mix—Midwest roots with international reach—defined him. He was proof that you didn’t have to live on the coasts to think seriously about culture.

 

Smith wrote eighteen books, ranging from criticism to broader reflections on language and civilization. Ships in the Port used metaphor and reflection to explore stillness, waiting, and transition. The Mechanism of English Style broke writing to its moving parts, treating prose like a machine that had to work cleanly and efficiently. The Skyline in English Literature examined how writers used cities, horizons, and modern landscapes to express ambition, anxiety, and change.

 

He didn’t chase trends. He asked how English actually worked—and what it revealed about the people using it.

No Justice For Evelyn Lee

Evelyn Lee

Nine-year-old Evelyn Lee was playing near her Des Moines home on Saturday afternoon, May 10, 1930, when she disappeared in the woods along Four Mile Creek. 

Two days later, E.M. Wessels stumbled upon Evelyn’s battered body while digging up shrubs in the same woods, just south of the Youngstown Bridge on Scott Street. Investigators quickly determined she had been choked to death by a left-handed attacker. Footprints found at the scene matched Evelyn’s shoes, and showed her attacker might have been a man with a crippled right foot. 

Detectives wasted no time in narrowing their search to two suspects—Carl McCune, 34, and Elmer Gibson, 35—scrappers who had been spotted driving a beat-up 1926 Ford roadster loaded with barrels and scavenged items. Witnesses recalled seeing the pair in South Des Moines that Saturday, drinking heavily and behaving erratically. 

The manhunt ended on May 15 when police apprehended McCune and Gibson at McCune’s mother’s house in Des Moines.

Evelyn’s parents were devastated. Her stepmother learned of Evelyn’s death when Agnes Arney, a reporter for the Des Moines Register, showed up at her door.

He said He Was Going To Kill Me And My Baby

Katherine and Paul Eberle

Paul Eberle was crazy. No one questioned that.

His chauffeur, Harry Schultz, heard Eberle tell his wife, “I don’t see why I don’t kill you, Katherine.”

Schultz watched Paul Eberle threaten the lives of his wife and child again and again. Once, he saw Eberle on the edge of killing himself. Another time, he said, “I’m going down in the basement to cut my arteries.”

Schultz and Katherine followed Eberle downstairs and watched him sit in a chair next to the furnace with a razor blade pressed to his wrist.

Eberle had many strange obsessions and addictions. He was a cigarette fiend, buying them in boxes by the tens of thousands. He drank coffee constantly and used drugs. His moods swung so fast, you never knew how he’d act.

Others noticed it too. John McDonnell said Eberle acted like a man with a permanent chip on his shoulder, ready to do battle at any time.

Dance Troupe of Miss Elizabeth Werblosky

Miss Elizabeth Werblosky

Miss Elizabeth Werblosky brought her ballet troupe to the stage of the President Theater in Des Moines on June 1, 1930, for a full evening dance recital that aimed to show just how many directions the art form could go.

The program featured thirty-three numbers, each one designed to illustrate a different phase of dance. Werblosky shaped the show from top to bottom, conceiving all but five of the pieces herself.

One of the evening’s most striking moments came in “Death and the Maiden,” with Julius Goldensen appearing as Death, wearing a mask that gave the number its eerie edge. The mask was designed by Clara Jane Goddard of Drake University, adding a strong visual punch to a performance built around movement, mood, and storytelling. (colorized pictures from the Des Moines Register. May 25, 1930)

Dancers (from left to right) Dorothy Abramson, Margaret
Ann Chambers, and Jean Schneider

The Bat, The Bite, And The Midwestern Freak Show

January 1982. The Blizzard of Ozz plays Veterans Memorial Auditorium, and for a few chaotic seconds, Des Moines became the center of the American freak show.

Ozzy Osbourne is onstage. Lights slicing through smoke; guitars loud enough to rearrange your organs. The crowd is packed in tight. Denim and teenage adrenaline fill the auditorium.

Then something comes flying onto the stage. Small. Dark. Flopping wings.

A bat.

Depending on who you ask, it was a rubber toy or the real deal—a dead bat someone had brought like a twisted party favor. Either way, it lands near Ozzy’s boots, and that’s when reality shifted.

Ozzy picks it up. And bites it. The crowd watches, unsure how to react. They aren’t horrified. Just stunned. Like their brains need a second to catch up and decide—is it part of the show or some new-fangled Ozzy Voodoo ritual?

Then it hits. Screams. Cheers. Confused people, unsure how to react.

Afterward, Ozzy said he thought it was rubber. Maybe, but— There’s something unsettling about it. Grabbing something off the ground and biting it.

 The moment lives on, one of those stories that’s too ridiculous to die. Forty years later, the legend persists. And the question—reality or sideshow.

The Joye Sisters Betty Ballard and Bobby Jean Lewis

Betty Ballard and Bobby Jean Lewis, better known as the Joye Sisters, were a Des Moines singing duo in the 1920s and 1930s. They headed to Mexico in May 1928, but were forced to turn back after a series of unfortunate events.

While in El Paso, they saw two Negroes lynched for attacking two white girls. That “horrible sight,” said Miss Ballard, “seemed to forecast the nightmare” of events.

They were detained in Juarez, then sent home because of the Revolution. They told reporters, “The queer taste of the Mexican food and a rumor that the revolutionists were poisoning all the food made them refrain from eating anything.”

No matter, the girls didn’t intend to let a bit of bad luck discourage them. They planned to return to Mexico in a few months after things cooled down.

Blood on the Beat: Remembering Des Moines Policeman Ollie Thomas

Policeman Ollie Thomas

Nobody agrees on the number, but the official count says seven. Seven shots cracked through the humid August night like the city itself had snapped.

August 21, 1925, near Fourth and Grand.

Some poor bastard heard the first few go off and thought it was just a car backfiring. Then two shots boomed louder than the rest, the kind that don’t lie about what they are. Gunfire always has a signature. Anyone who’s heard it knows when the lie ends.

Moments later, a bareheaded man came flying out of an alley and tore east down Grand Avenue like hell had suddenly remembered his address. The witness said the build looked right. The speed looked right. The panic looked right. Bootlegger energy, all of it.

By the time the echoes finished bouncing off brick and glass, Patrolman Ollie Thomas lay dead.

They found him crumpled at the bottom of a stairway landing, soaked in his own blood. Two bullets did the job. One through the abdomen. One through the head. Both traveling downward. That detail stuck with the detectives like a splinter in the brain.

Will Higgie Dances the Charleston Atop the Des Moines Register & Tribune Building

(from the Des Moines Register.
 August 26, 1925)

In August 1925, Des Moines got a rooftop performance no one forgot. Will Higgie—one of the original creators of the Charleston—strutted onto the roof of the Des Moines Register and Tribune building alongside his partner, Dorothy Ryan, and turned the city skyline into a dance floor. Below them, crowds looked up as the pair showed off the fast-kicking, rule-breaking dance that was sweeping the nation.

Later, Higgie let everyone in on a little secret. That famous “naughty wiggle” everyone loved? It wasn’t part of the original dance at all. It didn’t show up until after the Charleston was already loose in the world—proving that even America’s wildest dance craze was still evolving, one rooftop at a time.

Basements Barns and Bad Amplifiers: Iowa's Garage Rock Years

Des Moines in the mid-60s was supposed to be quiet. Flat. Corn-fed. God-fearing. That illusion died the first time a kid turned a cheap Silvertone amp all the way up in a basement and realized the walls could shake like a riot. The Midwest learned how to sweat that night. The garage bands came crawling out of rec rooms, Legion halls, gymnasiums, and half-finished basements all across Iowa like insects drawn to voltage.

The air smelled like beer, Brylcreem, overheated transformers, and teenage panic. Nobody knew they were building a scene. Scenes were for cities with music writers and better lies. These kids just knew the songs had to be fast, loud, and lethal. The parents were upstairs. The cops were somewhere else. The floor shook anyway.

Iowa didn’t have Sunset Strip clubs or Detroit ballrooms. It had VFW halls with bad carpet. Catholic school gyms with folding chairs. Roller rinks that smelled like rubber, popcorn, and spilled Coca-Cola. Stages made from plywood and rusty nails. The sound systems were a crime. The volume was the point.

YWCA Doll Farewell Party 1927

In January 1927, the Y.W.CA. hosted a farewell party for a group of dolls they were sending to Japan for the National Doll Festival there. The Des Moines Register explained the dolls were being sent to promote friendship with Japan.

Picture: (front row) Patricia Merrill, Naoma James, Mildred Williams, Ruth Partch, Ann Merrill, and Keith Merrill, Jr. (Standing) Bo Mahler, Babe Bartolomei, Mary Alice Mallum, Doris Stewart, Margaret Findley, Pauline Kauffman, Louis Orf, Myrtle Thompson, and Nicolina Bartholomer.

(from the Des Moines Register. January 9, 1927)