Mr. Hidden and the Secret of the Equitable Spire

Long before the behemoth towers of the Ruan Center and the Principal Building ruled our skyline- the Equitable Building stood above Des Moines, grand and stately. Its stunning gothic revival details have kept watch over Locust Street for just under a century. There is a certain mystique about this building- and though it no longer houses offices for the defunct Equitable Life Insurance Company of Iowa, standing in the lobby feels like maybe you’ve just wandered in during a company holiday. I have often felt as though it were calling to me “I have secrets to tell you, if you’d just ask”.

This is Hidden Des Moines, so I asked.

Gothic revival

There is not another building in Des Moines that is quite like The Equitable. Though it is often considered a representation of Iowa’s resilience in the changing economic landscape of the early 20th century, I’d like to dig a little deeper.

If I were to describe something to you as gothic, I imagine that you’d picture something dark, grim, or macabre. Perhaps you’d imagine a gigantic and decrepit old church in the countryside of Europe. The term gothic didn’t always carry this connotation, but novels like Bram Stoker’s Dracula, a piece of classic gothic literature, popularized the idea in the 19th century. It’s important to think about this if we are to analyze the the facade of our Locust Street gem, built in 1924.

Remember, this was the headquarters for a life insurance company. Gothic revival architecture can be associated with death, and spirituality. This is a connection that cannot be ignored. Examine for example a set of gnomes that line the 2nd story, positioned as if they are holding up the building. Upon closer inspection, the gnomes are also holding an hourglass, a well known symbol reminding us that every minute brings us closer to death. The building as a work of art then, is also an advertisement. Death is coming, consider life insurance.

I’m reminded of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, in which an advertisement for a forgotten oculist is used as a metaphor for the watchful eyes of god. At the offices of The Equitable Life Insurance Company of Iowa, these architectural details would be ever present, hanging over passersby on the street. Even now, they whisper, memento mori, remember your death.

There is a certain irony about this building finding a new purpose as luxury apartments. It stands as a reminder of death, and as a place to live decadently.

Touring a piece of history

In pursuit of all this mystique, I met with the property manager, Angela, and took a tour. The building was meticulously restored after the current owners came to posses it in 2012. This property gets historic tax credits for maintaining details that don’t always persist in conversions like this. That’s why you’ll still see fire escapes and the riveted smokestack maintained as if it were 1925. The lobby is part of this too- all of the brass details around the elevators are buffed to look new and the building maintains its historic 6th Avenue revolving doors. If you visit during skywalk hours, you can respectfully view them. Hit the elevator button and wait. The car that has arrived to take you to the 2nd floor will announce its arrival with an indicator light above the door. This Car Up. These rarely still work and it is one of my favorite little quirks here.

These things are not secret, however.

I’d heard rumors about some untouched spaces in this building that can’t practically be configured in the apartment use-case. These spaces might be full of asbestos, have large unused machinery, or might be A.D.A. unnaccesible. This is what I wanted to see.

This Car UP

First, I got to see the elevator machinery rooms. To get there, I was taken to the top residential floor and through a locked door into a darker, more industrial space. These dimly lit caverns in the sky had both something old and something new- I really liked being able to see some of the 1924 Westinghouse elevator motors juxtaposed against the new state of the art ones. Angela opened a switchboard cabinet (a modern one) so I could see the visual difference between the modern computers and their 20th century counterparts. Still, there was more climbing to be done.

We started up toward the cupola, or what I tend to refer to as a spire. This cake-like box is perched at the very top of the building. This little pointed decoration would have been visible for miles from every direction during the building’s near 50-year stint as the tallest in the state. I should have guessed it, but I was fascinated to find that the structure houses an enormous riveted water tank. The collosal tank was painted black, and red valves and knobs used color to make their presence known. A metal ladder-like staircase twisted around it, beckoning us further up into the box. The stairs ran past a pointed window. It’s like Urban American Gothic, I thought. Angela explained that this tank originally had two uses- water supply for the building, and it was a municipal water supply for fire suppression. The Des Moines Water Works has existed in some respect since the 19th Century, but in 1924 it was still being developed into the modern system we have now. Hydrants were less common, if present at all. This enormous tank could be used to fight fires across our entire downtown district.

Making the final ascent into the pointed cupola meant climbing an awkward ladder and passing into dark octagonal room with a closed door on one side. Not often opened, this door required a heavy pull in order to budge. Once Angela opened the door though, daylight flooded the room.

We stepped outside and were greeted with sweeping views of the city of Des Moines. There was just enough space between the two brick walls to move around the cupola’s balcony. We were perched behind some pointed glazed terracotta adorned with the building’s lightning protection. This experience was not unlike how I might imagine keeping watch at an old castle might’ve felt. Protected behind the thick walls- able to see anything coming on the horizon. It occurred to me that this is a view that very few in the history of Iowa have ever seen.

Still, we weren’t done.

This car Down

I personally wasn’t aware of this, but there is also an unfinished sub-basement. Angela took me down to the Equitable’s basement first- and then down again. Here, we found a time capsule. Hidden, decaying beneath our streets is a mechanical room that houses their coal furnaces. Recall the smokestack is still maintained above ground, a stark contrast to this room. It’s left in this state because it’s dangerous to disturb- steam machinery rooms like this are famously full of asbestos and lead paint. It’s difficult to imagine this place a century ago. Hazy with smoke, full of inescapable heat as an active industrial space with men checking gages and shoveling coal into furnaces. I stopped, startled for a moment. I noticed that you could hear voices from outside. Angela explained that there is coal chutes that carry sound in from the alleyway.

It is not a small space, and yet all together claustrophobic. If you’ve ever been in the engine room of an old ship like the RMS Queen Mary or the Iowa Battleship in California, you’ll know what I mean.

The Equitable stands today as one of the most captivating buildings in the city of Des Moines. Its gothic details present a uniqueness that makes it a treasure for our city. Though the company it once housed is dead, the building is not and neither are you. Next time you pass by, let it remind you that you will die one day. Don’t worry though, death is just another reason for us to commit to living the best life that we can.

The Equitable does not offer tours of its unused spaces to the public, but if you’re looking for a well maintained and unique place to live, they do offer a tour for residents every year around Halloween.