Aviator Lieutenant E. Earle Burgess

Lieutenant E. Earle Burgess

E. Earle Burgess, a First Lieutenant in the aviation service at Ellington Field in Texas, thrilled Southerners with a display of aerial gymnastics. 

he put on a show for 6,000 Houston residents in early July 1919. A few days later, he parachuted from 6,000 feet, thrilling a crowd of onlookers. Two days later, he leaped from one plane to another at 2,5000 feet over Galveston. 

Later that week, he dropped from the landing gear of a Curtis D plane to the rounded top of a Pullman sleeping car pulled by a Southern pacific special.

Burgess was born in Allerton, Iowa, and lived in Des Moines before going into the iar service. Sources said he was leaving the service to become a barnstormer.

Christmas Eve At The Iowa Training School For Boys At Eldora

 

The Elves with Santa Claus and Jack Frost

The Des Moines Register said Christmas Eve 1919 rang with shouts of glee and merry-making at the Iowa Training School for Boys in Eldora.

 

The big hall was dressed with fir trees, tinsel, and lights, while the boys presented a Christmas cantata in the chapel.

 

Every boy had a part. Some played girls’ roles as Sunburst Fairies. One was Jack Frost. Another was Santa Claus. Six were elves. Others appeared as Dream Men. The school orchestra supplied the music.

The Sunburst Fairies

Howard Johnson played Santa Claus. Francis Donahue was Jack Frost, and Emil Greiner starred as the Fairy Queen.

 

The elves were James Frame, Forest Lake, Charles Shay, Leon Lynch, Donald Munson, and Leroy Stanley.

 

The Sunburst Fairies were Edward Hansen, Tom Pasmar, William Arnett, James Shay, and Cecil Snodgrass.

Snipers Are Nothing New. Does Anyone Remember Frank Carter The Omaha Sniper?

 

Frank Carter, the Omaha sniper

The Omaha Sniper didn’t rob banks, kick in doors, hold up payroll wagons, or swagger through saloons with two pistols blazing.

 

He hid in the dark and shot strangers.

 

That was worse.

 

People understand greed, revenge, and drunken rage. A man who steals money has a purpose. A man who kills over jealousy has a reason, twisted as it may be.

 

A hidden gunman firing at people he didn’t know was something colder.

 

His name was Frank Carter.

Remember Party Lines? Iowa's Most Annoying Phone System Explained

 

Party lines meant sharing a phone line, and never knowing who might be listening

Party lines sound fun until you remember what they really were. If you grew up in Iowa before the 1970s, they usually meant sitting at the kitchen table waiting for your neighbor to quit jawing so you could make one lousy phone call.

 

Half the time it was impatience, suspicion, and somebody wondering who in the world had been talking for forty-five minutes.

 

Hollywood got hold of the idea in 1959 and turned it into Pillow Talk with Doris Day and Rock Hudson. Two strangers sharing a line, then romance and comedy break out. Nice enough on the movie screen. But in real life, sharing a line usually meant grumbling and hanging the receiver up harder than necessary.

 

Instead of every house having its own private phone connection—two, four, six, sometimes even more families were tied into the same wire. One line. Several households. Zero privacy.

The Train Robbery That Put Early Iowa On Edge

 

An early newspaper depiction of the Council Bluffs train robbery

The men who robbed the Burlington Fast Mail Train No. 8 in Council Bluffs on November 13, 1920, didn’t ride horses or wear masks. They didn’t wave revolvers from the saddle or disappear into canyon country like dime novel bandits.

 

They were local boys.

 

Boys who knew the rail yards. Boys who knew the schedules. Boys who knew that one train rolling through town that night carried more wealth than most people would see in ten lifetimes.

 

By sunrise, they had stolen millions.

 

Council Bluffs was built on rails. Freight trains rattled through at all hours. Passenger coaches came and went. Mail runs cut through the darkness. Stock cars groaned. Couplers slammed together like gunshots. Steam drifted across the yards in white clouds. Lanterns swung through the night in the hands of switchmen and brakemen. The whole place smelled of coal smoke, hot iron, grease, mud, and livestock.

 

If a man wanted to vanish into noise and confusion, there were easier places to fail and few better places to succeed.

 

Burlington Train No. 8 looked like any other fast mail run. Cars loaded with sacks. Clerks sorting letters under dim light. Men hauling packages and registered pouches. Nothing about it advertised fortune.

Inside The Drake Park Bank Robbery Des Moines 1921

 

The crowd outside the Drake Park State Bank after the robbery

The four men who walked into the Drake Park State Bank on July 13, 1921, didn’t look like bank robbers. They were dressed like ordinary customers. Men wanting to cash a check or ask about a loan.

The bank sat in a busy Des Moines neighborhood. Inside, it was a normal summer day. Clerks counted money and worked their books. Customers drifted in and out. Nobody paid much attention to the four strangers.

Then the guns came out.

One man covered the lobby with a revolver. Another jumped the counter. The others rounded up employees and shoved them toward the rear, barking orders. Police later suspected “Lucky” Tommy O’Connor was one of the men inside. Several bank employees identified him as the robber who drove them toward the safe.

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.