Vintage Adventureland: The Rides Every Iowa Kid Remembers

 

Silly Silo was a classic Adventureland attraction for nearly thirty years

If you grew up in Iowa, Adventureland was the place to go. Summer vacation. School trips. Boy or Girl Scout outings.

 

Adventureland had something for everyone. Food. Rides. Games. People watching.

 

All of that was fun, but the rides are what you remember most.

 

The Silly Silo (1974–2013) looked like an ordinary farm silo. Until you walked inside.

 

Then things went crazy.

 

Riders were crowded against a wall while the room spun faster and faster. When it got up to speed, the floor dropped away. It was simple engineering, but first-time riders felt like the world was ending. Or at least your little part of it.

Inside A Daring Iowa Bank Robbery That Almost Worked

Poke Wells

Poke Wells (Charles Knox Polk Wells) was one of those guys you didn’t want to mess around with. A Jesse Jams wannabe. Some say he was a friend of the James boys. Maybe even rode with them. But there’s no proof of that. What’s certain is that Poke robbed a few trains. Tried his luck at banks, and that’s where things went sideways.

He rode into Riverton, Iowa, on July 11, 1881. Before the day was over, his name was splashed across front pages all over the Midwest.

 

Poke’s autobiography said his partner was a man named Wilson. That might be, but early reports pointed to Bill Norris. That’s how outlaw stories go. People toss out names and wait to see what sticks. In the end, his partner’s name doesn’t change the story, other than he blamed the entire affair on him. “Wilson,” he said, “now insisted on being initiated as a bank or train robber.”

 

Poke and his partner didn’t rush in blind. They spent a day or two looking over the country around Riverton. They inspected horses owned by Mr. Parsley and Mr. Burks, thought better of buying them, then stole a pair from Mr. Anderson instead.

Coca-Cola Baseball Advertisement Davenport 1920

Coca-Cola took Davenport to the ballgame in 1920 with this advertisement. It was printed in The Daily Times on July 29, 1920.

 

Blue Label Beer Advertisement Sioux Falls Brewing and Malting Co.

 

The Sioux City Journal. June 9, 1907.

Blue Label wasn't brewed locally, but it was widely available in Western Iowa in the early 1900's. The Native American warrior gives it a unique look. As the add says, "Order a trial case," from the Sioux Falls Brewing and Malting Co., Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

Iowa's Own, The Orton Brothers' Circus

 

Orton Brothers' circus tent, circa 1900

If you lived in Iowa in the late 1800s and heard a brass band coming down the street, you  grabbed your hat and headed for town.

The circus was here.

Kids came running. Shopkeepers drifted outside. Farmers tied off teams and squinted into the dust. Dogs barked, and horses rolled their eyes.

Then the parade came around the corner.

Painted wagons. Glittering harnesses. Clowns. Riders perched high on horses. Cages rumbling along. Brass horns blaring like they were trying to wake the dead.

And if the wagons said Orton Brothers Circus, people knew they were seeing one of the biggest homegrown shows Iowa ever produced.

Budweiser Beer Advertisement Jos. E. Rosenfeld Council Bluffs

 

The Evening Nonpareil.April 29, 1913.

I really like this early Budweiser advertisement. It shows the Anheuser-Busch Plant in St. Louis, and references the local distributor - Jos. E. Rosenfeld in Council Bluffs, Iowa.

Black Hawk Beer As The Medicine of Choice?

The Daily Times. April 15, 1914.

If you stood on Davenport’s west side a hundred years ago and caught a whiff of warm grain, smoke, and something vaguely cheerful in the air, congratulations—you were downwind of a brewery.

One of the big names was Black Hawk.

Black Hawk Brewery opened sometime around 1865, when America was finishing a civil war and apparently decided the next order of business was beer. Julius Lehrkind, a German-born brewer, was an early owner. That made sense. Germans all over the Midwest were quietly improving local life one lager at a time.

Davenport was the perfect town for brewing. It had river traffic, railroads, factories, and a healthy population of people who’d worked all day and didn’t need to be talked into a drink.

Like many old businesses, Black Hawk never sat still. Names changed. Ownership changed. Buildings were added whenever money appeared.

The Independent Brewing and Malting Co. plant near 1801 West 3rd Street was a serious operation. It had cellars, bottling works, rail connections, wagons moving in and out, and all the machinery necessary to dominate the local market.

They kept selling Black Hawk beer. Customers already liked the label; only a fool would toss it aside.