Drake Bulldogs vs Iowa State Cyclones 1927

A scene showing the Drake Bulldogs and Iowa State Cyclones football game held at Drake's Stadium in 1927. Captain Bill Cook from Drake is running with the ball.

New Heating Plant at University of Iowa

(From the Des Moines Register. November 6, 1927)

The Des Moines Register published a photograph of the new heating plant under construction at the University of Iowa in Iowa City. The project was expected to be completed by the spring of 1928.

The plant was designed by Proudfoot, Rawson & Souers, with Professor B. P. Fleming serving as consulting engineer. The total projected cost was $500,000.

Charles Grilk Davenport Lawyer Iowa Attorney General

Charles Grilk (from The Daily Times. 
April 4, 1924)

When Charles Grilk ran for Congress in 1906 as a young Republican lawyer out of Davenport, the party brought in its heaviest weapon to carry him across the line: Theodore Roosevelt.

Roosevelt arrived like the weather. Loud. Electric. Unavoidable.

That morning, he took breakfast at the Davenport home of novelist Alice French—known to readers as Octave Thanet—one of the most powerful literary and political voices in the state. The table was crowded with influence. Words were chosen carefully. Futures were weighed between coffee cups.

Then, Roosevelt and Grilk went to Central Park.

Thousands packed into Central Park in Davenport. Roosevelt spoke. The crowd surged. Grilk stood beside him, absorbing the force of borrowed gravity. It was a public anointing. A signal that this young Davenport lawyer had entered the bloodstream of national power.

He lost that race, but the door never closed again.

Guy Gillette Iowa Senator

Guy Gillette (The Courier. May 29, 1924)

Guy Gillette came to Washington in 1936 while the country was still bleeding from the Depression. Iowa farms were drowning in debt. Banks were collapsing. The New Deal promised rescue. Gillette arrived as a Democrat, but he never arrived as a loyalist.

He didn’t trust party machines. He didn’t trust Wall Street. He especially didn’t trust men who spoke softly while reaching for control.

Washington wanted obedience. Gillette offered scrutiny.

He backed farm relief because Iowa was starving. He backed soil conservation because the land was breaking. He backed rural electrification because darkness still ruled whole counties. Those votes earned him enemies in corporate boardrooms and quiet allies in farm kitchens.

The real fight came during World War II.

The Senate was flooded with emergency bills. Weapons contracts. War industries. Spending without ceilings. Gillette voted for the war, but he fought the money behind it. He questioned contractors, challenged cost overruns, and warned that corporations were growing fat while soldiers bled. As he told the Senate not long after America entered the conflict, “We said that they went over there … not to prove the prowess of America … but to see to it that there never was such a war again.”

Iowa Garage Bands of the 1960s and 1970s

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)

Chancy J. Stevens Montour, Iowa Mayor

In 1927, the Des Moines Register profiled Chancy J. Stevens of Montour, Iowa, believed to be the oldest mayor in America at age 94. Stevens had served as mayor for 18 years.

He came to Iowa from New York as a young man and first settled in Indiantown, two miles north of Montour. He supported prohibition, equal rights for women, and the woodshed as a corrective measure for wayward youths.

(picture from the Des Moines Register. December 25, 1927)

Salvation Army Food Distribution Des Moines 1921

The Salvation Army fed several hundred Des Moines families on Christmas Day, 1921. Brigadier William Andrews, his wife, and staff distributed dinner baskets, containing a chicken, potatoes, coffee, sugar, corn, and various fruits.

The picture shows Brigadier William Andrews and his wife, giving a dinner basket to an elderly couple.

(from The Des Moines Register. December 25, 1921)

Santa Claus Delivering Toys

This image of Santa Claus and his sleigh appeared on the front page of the Des Moines Tribune, Christmas Day, 1925. (I colored and touched up the black and white artwork)

The Doo Dads Reach Candy Land

Does anyone else see the beginnings of Dr. Seuss in this image and story?

The Doo Dads reach Candy Land

The dudes had to leave the land of the long-legged Doo Dads without finding any reason for their long legs. They scrambled back into their machine and started in the quest of new adventures.

They were chattering away and laughing merrily when they began to wrinkle up their stubby noses, and altogether they said, “What is that I smell?

(Colored image from the Des Moines Tribune. February 25, 1922)