Des Moines’ first and only elevator death

I recently participated in an architecture walking tour of downtown Des Moines. I went with my mother and a handful of her friends for the southern tour of downtown that goes from the Civic Center to the World Food Prize and then makes its way around Court Avenue until it ends at the Kirkwood. My mother, a gem who I love dearly, mentioned at one point that the concrete corner of one of the buildings smelled like urine. She said this in her “outside voice” and quickly moved closer to the air flow.

While walking north on Fourth Street, we stood at the cross section with Court Avenue. Without anyone asking me, I made sure to mention to our guide that Pints used to be a gay bar back in the 1970s that was surrounded by dirty bookstores on both sides. Also, that one bar incarnation attempted to use the top floor with apartments as a men-only bath house. My mother loved that and applauded my knowledge of Des Moines history. (That’s a lie.)

Once we crossed Court Avenue, we stood in front of the Hotel Randolph. This place has been here for what seems like the dawn of this city’s existence, even though the oldest building in the city sits across the street. I had written about the Hotel Randolph a year ago when I told the story of Jason Roe visiting Des Moines on a road trip and, for no reason, decided to stay and got a room there in 1993. He lived there for several years after.

As we stood in front of what is now considered high class downtown living in Des Moines, our tour guide was telling us that Hotel Randolph was the location of the first and only elevator death in the city, which occurred on March 23, 1923. Ten people were on the passenger elevator when a cable gave out, and it dropped six floors to the basement. Two families from Earlham who were on the elevator were planning on traveling to California together that night by train. Sarah Hill died instantly. L.S. Hill, who fractured both legs and suffered internal injuries, died in the hospital. Mrs. Richard Haskins broke both legs, suffered internal injuries and died in the hospital. 

The families entered the elevator on the eighth floor around noon and were heading to the dining room area for lunch. Malinda Harris, who was a maid on the sixth floor, watched when the elevator operator, Clifton Perry, lost control. Richard Haskins heard their screams while standing in the lobby waiting for his family to arrive. The elevator made a two-foot dent in the ground where it landed.

Three years later, I found that a lawsuit was brought against the elevator company. The crash was due to a faulty cable giving out and at least four other cables that were not strong enough to withstand the motor pull or were not attached to the cage directly. Fuses had too high of an amperage, the carbon contact clamps were unsafe, etc. However, the blame was moved from the elevator company to the Hotel Randolph after proving that the elevator was built correctly but wasn’t properly maintained. 

One of the interesting points of the front-page newspaper article was the mention of both the elevator operator and the maid’s skin color. The maid is referred to as “Negro Maid.” Another front-page story was about the Iowa House of Representatives voting that Ku-Klux Klan members must not wear masks (progressive for the time).

I recommend visiting the Iowa Architecture Foundation website and participating in one of these walking tours. They are informative and a lot of fun. ♦

Kristian Day is a filmmaker and writer based in Des Moines. He also hosts the syndicated Iowa Basement Tapes radio program on 98.9 FM KFMG. Instagram: @kristianday | Twitter: @kristianmday