The Coal Palace, Ottumwa, IA, 1890
If I should attempt to interpret the lesson of this structure, I should say that it was an illustration of how much that is artistic and graceful is to be found in the common things of life and if I should make an application of the lesson it would be to suggest that we might profitably carry into all our homes and into all neighborly intercourse the same transforming spirit. –President Benjamin Harrison, Oct. 9, 1890
Although President Harrison was undoubtedly the most famous visitor to the Coal Palace in Ottumwa, Iowa, he was one of thousands who visited the medieval coal-clad castle, the brainchild of three prominent locals: Colonel Peter G. Ballingall, Calvin Manning, and Henry Phillips. When I first moved to Ottumwa decades ago, I recall seeing a photo of the Coal Palace. I was smitten, absolutely gobsmacked. A 230-foot long structure with turrets and a central tower rising 200 feet, all veneered with local coal, this was the stuff dreams are made of. At least for me, for whom both architecture and fantasy have been lifelong passions.
When I was in Italy, I stood before the Duomo in Florence, sorely amazed. But then, I felt the same fascination with all of the other cathedrals and castles I saw as we traveled throughout Europe. I kept asking myself–sometimes silently and often aloud–how could they have made these exquisite structures? Looking at an old sepia photograph of the Coal Palace, I wondered the same thing. How in the world did they build it?
Charles P. Brown, the architect who’d designed the first Corn Palace in Sioux City, was hired to design the Coal Palace. In the last decades of the 1800s, palaces sprung up from the prairie all over the midwest. Made of all sorts of natural materials like hay, bluegrass, alfalfa, flax, sugar beets, and corn, these palaces were built to advertise the bounty of the prairie and to attract visitors to the middle of the country, a region largely ignored by tourists. There were at least 35 of these palaces built in 24 cities. It goes without saying that these palaces were generally fire hazards and vulnerable to weather and time. They were also expensive, and some of their investors failed to break even. After erecting its fifth corn palace, Sioux City called it quits. Mitchell, South Dakota, however, carried the tradition forward and committed to making their corn palace a permanent feature in their town. Long after the other midwestern palaces had been razed and interest in them gone, the Mitchell Corn Palace remains.
But the magnificent Coal Palace, built on a site that I drive by frequently! If only, it, too, had become a permanent feature, a legacy to the local coal industry of the time and testament to the vision of an Iowa architect and local investors. If only I could take my grandchildren there and lose ourselves for an afternoon in the medieval wonder right in our backyard. If only the ebony turrets still rose up from the Des Moines River banks. Palaces transport us from our ordinary lives and dwellings to places only our imaginations can take us. They draw us in; they make us wonder.
The facade of the Coal Palace was constructed of a variety of coal, including bituminous coal (nut and pea) and vitric coal, from ten surrounding counties. The structure was, indeed, impressive. In 1890, The Ottumwa Courier reported on the the artistry of the palace:
Aloft in the main tower, a ‘hanging garden of Babylon,’ with richest contribution of the tropics, with a frieze of classic figures in relief round the entire building, carefully and artistically chiseled out of bituminous blocks which make ‘light, heat, and power.’ With flagstaffs on the various turrets proudly waving the pennant of the various countries which the palace is to represent, and with the undisputable evidence of Uncle Samuel’s higher authority even over the rich feudal baron, King Coal, from the Stars and Stripes waving from the staff of the main tower—a new flag with 44 stars in the field of azure.
As night fell, the arc lamps in the palace towers and colored electric lights illuminated the Coal Palace, making the scene more splendid than any illuminated castle of the rich barons of the middle ages, according to the Ottumwa Courier.
If the facade was impressive, however, the interior would’ve taken your breath away. The central tower held an observation gallery and dance floor, which could be reached by stairs or by elevator. In the central hall, one could find a large auditorium with an estimated seating capacity of 8,000. Behind the stage–this is the part that really gets me–was a waterfall which fell 40 feet into a little lake below. Lit by 700 lights which threw rainbow colors into the falls, it was surrounded by miniature boulders and live fir trees. A suspension bridge spanned the little lake which required 1,600,000 gallons of water daily. And beneath the main floor, visitors could actually be lowered into a miniature working coal mine where they could observe the coal-mining process as real miners worked.
Sadly, the Ottumwa Coal Palace–like most of the midwestern palaces–was short-lived. Opened in 1890, it was closed and razed in 1892 when interest in and enthusiasm for the palace died. Still, it stood for two glorious years, and its opening was celebrated in The New York Times. Above all, perhaps, it’s a reminder of–in President Benjamin Harrison’s words–how much that is artistic and graceful is to be found in the common things of life. I spent some of my happiest childhood hours imagining palaces all over the Rock Garden of Harmon Park. They lived among the rocks and trees, the wildflowers and moss-covered ponds. In that season of palaces imagined among such common elements, I discovered other worlds and found much delight.
