Tag Archives: architecture

‘Huge strides’ prompt extreme reactions in Lincoln elevator demo project

by baggyparagraphs

A representative of CL Construction, of Lincoln, sends this aerial photo and reports “huge strides in the demolition of the grain elevators at 3001 Cornhusker Hwy. in Lincoln.” News of the project first broke late in 2024. The demolition site will be offered for redevelopment.

Lincoln’s 10/11 News visited early in 2026 for an update. Comments on the channel’s report range from sublime to ridiculous. These are unedited for style or factual correctness.

Sublime: @dougnagel1155 “What weird comments. It’s just time to move on. When I was a kid hauling grain to this elevator, it was on the outskirts of town. Now it’s pretty much in the middle of town. Farmers are not bringing the crops to Lincoln like they used to. There’s other elevators north of town that are easier to haul to and avoid city traffic. I’m sure the Lincoln site isn’t profitable anymore.”

Ridiculous: @VictorianMaid99 “No grain means no food and no food means no people. Planned demolition just like 911.”

Sublime: @danlowe8684 “Those silos were not in ‘disrepair’. They were some of the beefiest structures ever built – and would have been standing for many more generations. They have been working to demolish them for over a year with modern machinery – and are far from done. The silo builders invented slip-form concrete construction in the early 1900s (Buffalo, NY, I believe), and it is used today for bridge and highway construction.”

Ridiculous: @e030396  “Another example of this generations’ toxic mentality (tear-down-functional-structures with out good reason). Looks like a stupid move not considering the increase carbon foot print.”

Sublime: @paulkurilecz4209 “More than likely the conveyor systems were in disrepair. They were not refurbished due to a lack of business.”

Meanwhile, CL Construction has been active elsewhere.

“In between all of this, our team has been down in Sunray, Tex. to dismantle another grain elevator facility,” the spokesman reports.

We know Tillotson built in Sunray and suspect that’s the facility in question.

Note: The white elevator at upper right is a Tillotson elevator from the mid-1950s.

Pages 2 and 2A of Tillotson Construction record, Minneapolis, Kan. to Polk, Nebr., 1947-1948

by baggyparagraphs

Pages 2 and 2A of the Tillotson Construction Co. record of concrete elevators cover jobs in 1947 and 1948. The pages start at Minneapolis, Kan. and extend to Polk, Nebr. The jobs range in size from a 31,360-bushel mill building at Minneapolis, Kan. (in addition to the 100,000-bushel elevator) in 1948 to a whopping 265,000-bushel elevator with 125-foot drawform walls in Dalhart, Tex. 

Page 1, which started the record in 1939, included cost information, but those figures aren’t included here. 

Locations represented in these records are Minneapolis, Kan.; ­­Dalhart, Tex.; Helena, Okla.; Eva, Okla.; Rushville, Nebr.; Satanta, Kan.; Gruver, Tex.; Moscow, Kan.; Manchester, Okla.; Springfield, Colo.; Rolla, Kan.; and Polk, Nebr. 

Be sure to look at the bottom of p. 2 for notes on adverse weather and other challenges that factored into these jobs. 

Archival photo leads to guesses on the location of a mighty wooden elevator complex

by baggyparagraphs

The cache of archival photos recovered from the Tillotson homestead includes an image of a wooden elevator complex, but there are no inscriptions on back of the photo so we have no clue of the location or date.

Close inspection of the image reveals the smaller of the two elevator buildings is labeled. It appears that “Farmers Co-Op” was painted over other lettering, possibly “Grain & Coal.”

The larger building–how about that headhouse!–is labeled Farmers Co-Op Co.

We sure wish we could identify the woman standing on the office porch. She is buttoned up tight inside her overcoat and giving a nice smile.

The car looks like a mid-1930s Pontiac.

There are other markings. We see the numerals 2 and 8 at the extreme left but can’t explain them. Three signs hang on the outer walls of the office. The one the car is facing advertises Semi Solid Buttermilk, a brand of partially dehydrated buttermilk that was used as a livestock and poultry feed supplement.

Brand advertising claimed: “When Sows are fed Semi-Solid they have little or no trouble from ‘dreaded white scours’ among the pigs.”

Ad from The Nebraska Farmer, Feb. 2, 1929

Signs to either side of the woman are illegible, but the shingle under the gable is inscribed Fairbanks Scales.

All the signs would lend the elevator a stamp of authentication: a patron of this establishment could be assured of getting the most advanced and most accurate services.

In general, the whole complex projects a mighty aura, and it’s easy to suspect this was one of the leading operations in its region.

In 1958 letter, Reginald Tillotson seeks son Mike’s pencil prowess on new project

by baggyparagraphs

In December of 1958, Reginald Tillotson, president of Tillotson Construction Co., was working on a project in Kansas City, Mo. and was apparently a guest in the office of another company when he invited his youngest son, Michael, to make the 185-mile journey from Omaha and join the team.

Besides the purpose he expressed, it’s interesting to note the intentional jokey misspellings in a midcentury-comix style of writing, namely, “wouldend” for “wouldn’t” and “ketch” for “catch.”

Dear Mike;

I am working here in Beggs office and sure didn’t intend to ask you to do anything I wouldend do in wanting you to come here and help Tom out on these drawings. He really needs the help and any time you want to pack your bag and ketch the train down and go to work here it is OK with me.

I would appreciate it as it will free me to do the things I need to do and I know Tom would rather have you than me as I don’t know a 1-H from a 4-H pencil, etc. He saw what you did here on that sketch for Carrier, Okla. and was satisfied. His son is teaching here at the Finlay Engineering school here and you might want to look into the situation. Tom is the best elevator engineer I have met and has Wayne Skinner beat a thousand miles. You wouldn’t get better schooling.

Your Dad

P.S. You can come home week ends.

The “Beggs office” that Reginald refers to was probably Beggs Engineering, and more is to be learned about that concern and its relationship to Tillotson Construction Co. For now, though, the major takeaway is Reginald’s genial paternal tone and his droll way of praising and encouraging his son.

About five months before this letter, Mike was a passenger in a bad car accident with my father driving, my mother and I in the backseat, all of us flying out of a tiny little convertible, a Nash Metropolitan, in the night on a country road.

According to my mother Mary Catherine, who was Mike’s older sister, he suffered a fractured shoulder and, in consequence, lost his wrestling scholarship at University of Nebraska. From fragmented sources, we piece together the rest of his story. In 1959 and 1960, Mike served in the army. He then returned to Lincoln and attained a bachelor’s degree in education. No career as a schoolteacher or coach followed. Nor a career at Tillotson Construction Co.–it went out of business after Reginald’s death in 1960.

Mike had learned his carpentry skills building formwork for elevators, and it led to his long career as a carpenter.

Incorporation notices provide a timeline and sketch the drama of Van Ness Construction Co.

by kocart

Story by Kristen Cart

We know a little bit about the R. M. Van Ness Construction Co. from newspaper articles prior to its incorporation. When the business began, Van Ness built elevators from its headquarters in Fairbury, Nebr. before moving to Omaha in 1916. They situated their Omaha headquarters on the ground floor of the Grain Exchange building.

The company structure was formalized in 1923, when the R. M. Van Ness Construction Co. incorporated as a grain elevator construction business. Officers were therein named, shareholding partners designated, and the valuation of shares determined.

We find these partners and board members appearing in subsequent articles about their business dealings, as we will illuminate in upcoming posts.

The company published an amendment to the articles of incorporation after the 1927 death of the founder, R. M. Van Ness, who fell victim to a brain hemorrhage at age 50.

Mary A. Van Ness assumed leadership and guided her construction business during some of its most productive years.

She held the reins during the tumultuous personal events of 1928, as well, when daughter Mary Van Ness Stribling and her husband Harold Stribling survived a home invasion and attack by an “ax-maniac” who had terrorized the Omaha-Council Bluffs area. A suspect named Jake Bird was tried and convicted of assault early the following year in Council Bluffs district court.

The local papers played up the story, culminating in the Omaha World-Herald’s Feb. 3, 1929 report of the guilty verdict.

“Well, it’s a tough break,” Bird said after the verdict was announced.

“Oh, I’m glad,” Mary Van Ness said before embracing her daughter.

“It’s the only way it could be,” Mary Van Ness Stribling said. “No other verdict would be honest or just. I never was in doubt about Bird being the man. Any other verdict would have affected me terribly, because it would have reflected on my honesty, and would make it appear that I had done an injustice. I have been through a terrible ordeal. It’s bad enough as it is.”

By 1931, according to newspaper accounts, Mary A. Van Ness had had enough, and we find this short newspaper item:

Charles H. Tillotson and John Conrey had taken the helm, and the company continued an extremely active period of grain elevator construction until Charles Tillotson’s death in 1938. It appears that Charles H. Tillotson, and later his son Reginald, were involved with this company throughout its existence.

The value of the stock was down from $25,000 to $5,000 during the height of the Great Depression.

We will explore the several phases of the company’s evolution in future posts.

Rich lode of archival material means Our Grandfathers’ Grain Elevators will grow

by baggyparagraphs

By Ronald Ahrens

Our Grandfathers’ Grain Elevators is thrilled to report wonderful news. A benefactor has sent us 36 pounds of records salvaged from the Tillotson homestead north of Omaha. The carton includes five-dozen 8×10 black-and-white photos, most of them nice aerial shots, and many from locations that are new to us. Really? We built a warehouse for Peet’s Feeds in Council Bluffs? Along with all this, there are dozens of rolls of blueprints. It’s enough to keep us at the grindstone for a long time. 

As our more than 300 subscribers know, the Tillotson brothers—Reginald and Joe—founded Tillotson Construction Co. after the 1938 death of their father, Charles H. Tillotson. Reginald and Charles H. had spent years building wooden elevators for Van Ness Construction Co., but upon the death of Charles H., the sons launched their new company. They intended to use reinforced concrete and put up larger elevators.

Reginald and Joe split up in the late-1940s. Joe moved from Omaha to Denver and set up his own operation, but he died in a car accident not long afterwards. Tillotson Construction Co. flourished through the 1950s, building elevators from North Dakota to South Carolina. It also spawned offshoots such as Mayer-Osborn Construction Co., in which Kristen’s grandfather, William Osborn, was a partner. 

We need Carl Sagan to count all these blueprints.
Millet Ville, South Carolina

Kristen Cart and I launched Our Grandfathers’ Grain Elevators in November of 2011. When our careers would permit, we blogged away and have created more than 500 posts. This has resulted in a small but steady audience. The last three weeks have brought 1,005 pages views, which we think is pretty good. They come from all over the world. We weren’t posting very often in the last few years because we ran out of material. For us, it’s either site visits or archival records that lead to posts. Site visits are tough because I live near Palm Springs–not a single elevator!–and Kristen might not want me to say where but there are cowboys and elk and petroleum.

Things have changed as my Uncle Mike no longer lives in the Tillotson home, which Reginald built of reinforced concrete in 1952. Sorry to say, the home had become what authorities described as a “hoarder’s nightmare.” Pleased to say, the folks who purchased it in 2025 were diligent about salvaging the good stuff. Their shipment also includes my grandmother Margaret McDunn Tillotson’s copy of the Wayne Spizzerinktum yearbook from her Wayne State College Class of 1925. There is a St. Pius X Daily Missal, which is a puzzle because the Tillotsons went to St. Philip Neri; it was my family that went to St. Pius X but I don’t know anything about that book. And here’s Uncle Tim’s Fifth Armored “Victory” Division basic training almanac from his army service in Camp Chaffee, Ark. Inside it, inexplicably, I found a snapshot print of three nuns wearing all-white, and there’s a five-story parking garage in the background.

I called up the librarian at Wayne State, who says he’ll take the yearbook. The army almanac is another question. It has an elaborate, stamped leather cover but the volume sustained water damage. The missal is falling apart. Maybe I will return it to St. Pius X and hope it makes up for my poor performance as a student. 

Charles H. Tillotson

All this is a roundabout way of saying Our Grandfathers’ Grain Elevators is about to experience a growth spurt, although we’ll see if it’s akin to the growth spurt from wooden elevators that held 20,000 bushels to concrete ones that held 120,000 bushels. Timing is great because our careers are not the hindrance they used to be, so we will be able to work on new posts.

It’s great to have all this source material, but things are pretty lopsided in favor of Tillotson Construcdtion Co. We would love to get our hands on an equivalent archive from Mayer-Osborn and from J.H. Tillotson, Contractor. 

We invite first-time and casual readers to join with our subscribers and receive email notifications of new posts. All should watch this space for a renewed effort in telling the grain elevator story at the most basic level. It’s turned out a richer topic than we ever figured, and now comes this opportunity to groove on it and grow the blog. 

How some wooden elevators in Nebraska were repurposed to produce cattle feed

by baggyparagraphs

Story and photos by Brad Perry

In Nebraska, many of the 12,000- to 18,000-bushel wood elevators got turned into feed mills, mainly for cattle feed. Most of these elevators had a roller mill in the basement and made a decent feed mill due to their small bins. An example from Walthill, Nebr. is seen in the photo above.

Halbur, Iowa mill
Dodge, Nebr.
Oakland, Iowa

In Iowa, this was less common due to more hogs than cattle. Swine feeds tended to be more complex with more ingredients than cattle feed.

Feed mills were still being built of wood in Iowa up until the 1960s.

Quad States Construction, out of Des Moines, Iowa, got started building wood feed mills and then became a major builder of concrete elevators and annex tanks.

A reader’s contribution presents two of the largest–and last–wooden elevators on the prairie

by baggyparagraphs

Story and photos by Brad Perry

When I started with the Omaha Bank for Cooperatives in 1975, my accounts were the co-ops north of Interstate 80. One was Tekamah, Nebr., where Farmers Elevator was in grain and feed. I was told this was the last wood elevator built in Nebraska. 

It was huge for a wood house — 100,000-bushel capacity. I was also told they went with wood due to poor soil conditions. You can still see it on Google Earth. It’s the big one on the left.

Editor’s note: The poor soil conditions may have led to a heavy concrete elevator settling.

This June 29, 1961 article from the Burt County Plaindealer describes the new twin-leg elevator that would soon open with all the modern fittings found in a concrete elevator.

The very last wood house we financed at OBC was for the co-op at Sisseton, S.D. It’s still in use and holds 60,000 bushels. 

I can remember it cost $6 per bushel ($360,000) when a 250,000-bushel concrete house was $500,000. 

Minnesota and North Dakota stayed with wood longer than anywhere else because of their cold weather. They built as much as 250,000-bushel wood houses. Wood is a much better insulator than concrete and does not have condensation issues.

Old wooden elevators must repurpose or perish, as the surviving elevator in Lander, Wyo. shows

by kocart

Story and photos by Kristen Cart

It’s wonderful to find an elevator that has taken on a new life. The Lander, Wyo. grain elevator, which stands sentry at one end of the business district, was in a sorry state when its rescuer arrived on scene, as told by the Cowboy State Daily, Jan 20, 2024. It took a lot of money and a bit of wild romanticism to see beauty in the spoiled hulk, and to do something about it. I too wondered how that bike got up there. Now I know.

Artists who happened through Lander have also been inspired by the elevator, and you will find it with its Bike Mill and Purina checkerboard represented in paintings and drawings all over town. J. C. Dye, a local painter and sculptor, recently worked on a painting commission that featured the Lander elevator prominently, with a cattle drive running down the main street in its shadow. The painting will soon adorn a local concern.

An old elevator normally will not overcome fifty or more years of pigeon poop and rotten grain crusted throughout the interior, with rain and snow coming in through a ruined roof. It will become a haven for vermin, a nuisance, and a safety hazard. Then it will meet the bulldozer or the wrecking crane.

Many elevators didn’t make it that far, as revealed by story after story in local newspapers of elevator fires and the ensuing destruction.

A lot of these old monuments won’t overcome the day they no longer make money for their owners. The Cogdill elevators and mills in Dow City and Dunlap, Iowa would meet their demise by fire. The sons of Pat Codgill of The Cogdill Farm Supply Company intended to demolish them to modernize the operation after taking over for their dad. When I looked for them some years later, the elevators were gone.

The demolition at Arimo, Idaho on May 1, 2012.

The better preserved elevators may be taken down board by board for their pretty blond lumber, the way the elevator in Arimo, Idaho, met its fate. The wood became more valuable than the storage. The economics are brutal once these structures become obsolete.

A demolition in Billings, Montana, in 2025

I caught the very end of a demolition in Billings, Montana, recently, and stopped for a couple of snapshots. The old wooden mill was mostly shredded lumber, and the concrete bins were a tangle of rebar and gravel, with a few remaining hulks. In a few days, there would be little left. It’s a depressingly familiar scene.

It’s very nice to come across a survivor. Thank you, people of Lander, for saving a piece of your history.

As wooden elevators disappear, documentation becomes difficult

by kocart

Story and photos by Kristen Cart

As we research an earlier generation of elevator construction, we can find wooden elevators, but not the ones we hope to find. It is almost impossible to match a builder to a specific elevator this late in the game, especially among the few surviving examples. But we are trying.

The difficulty is easy to illustrate. A case in point is the old elevator in Chugwater, Wyoming. I noticed it in the early 2000s on one of our many hunting trips while bypassing the town on I-25. I planned for a future photo shoot there, catching a cell phone image on the fly a couple of times to note its location. Once, I pulled over on the side of the road to get a couple of for-the-record shots. But when I finally decided to give it a proper visit, the elevator was nowhere to be found.

Chugwater, Wyo, 2016. The elevator on the left has disappeared.

Chugwater is known for some rather fine barbecue sauce, and it also has a historic soda fountain with the best root-beer floats ever made (just don’t stop on a Tuesday or Wednesday, when they are closed). When I asked a local business proprietor how long the elevator had been gone, she didn’t know–although she grew up in the town, she didn’t notice its absence. It was just there, and then it wasn’t.

I drove to the old elevator location, and found hardly any debris. Some concrete pads still existed in the field next to the railroad tracks, but you couldn’t tell what had once stood there. I took a couple of documentary shots. Those telltale concrete pads only remained because digging up the large quantity of concrete that supported the structure would be too expensive. And who really cared?

I guess I care, and I am scrambling to catch the last moments of the few elevators I can photograph while they exist.

Another example is the elevator in Clayton, New Mexico. It presently serves as a coffee bean roasting facility for an adjacent coffee house, but not for much longer. The proprietor explained that the elevator was beginning to lean because the prior owner had removed some structural support beams for personal use. The elevator is showing the strain. The metal siding is beginning to buckle, and even the resident ravens seem worried.

A raven holds court atop the Clayton, NM elevator, March 2026

I took pictures–lots of them.

We will keep trying to find any surviving Van Ness Construction-built elevators, and we will document their history. In the meantime, I will catch snatches of hundred-year-old stories while memorializing wooden elevators for as long as I can.