The tallest man in history once made a special visit to Storm Lake.
The tallest man in history once made a special visit to Storm Lake.
Robert Wadlow has been featured in every edition of the Guinness Book of World Records.
Shortly before his death in 1940, he was measured at a towering 8’ 11.1 inches, a mark that has never since been surpassed.
We became curious after finding an unusual mention recorded well over 80 years ago, in some typewritten diary notes in the Storm Lake Library collection.
“This afternoon, a ripple of excitement goes through the crowd.
It is announced over the loudspeaker that a $1 bill will be placed on the head of a tall man; whoever can reach it can have it. Tall he is, a freakish Illinois fellow around eight feet in height…. He stands so high that Police Chief Robbins cannot reach the bill.”
Shortly after that, paging through a folder of old photographs belonging to Bob Ansorge of the Buntrock-Salie Studio that had operated here for so many years, we saw a grainy copy of a familiar-looking giant, though it had no information with it.
It didn’t take a lot to connect the relics with Wadlow. In the runup to the U.S. joining World War II, it seems that he had been invited to Storm Lake by the chamber of commerce, and while here, was willing enough to facilitate the dollar bill challenge to help promote U.S. Bonds sales.
We then did some digging in the old newspapers.
First, about Robert Wadlow. He was born in Alton, Illinois, to normal-size parents, and at birth was an unremarkable 8.7 pounds. But by age 5, he was 5’4” and wearing clothes meant for teenagers. By age 8, he was taller than his 5’11” father, and could carry his dad up the stairs of the family home as one would a baby.
Robert tried through most of his life to fit in and live a normal life, joining Boy Scouts (custom-sewn uniform) and later becoming a Freemason, excelling in academics and having many outside interests. In 1936, the gentle giant graduated from high school and enrolled in law school. But the medical issues that contributed to his extraordinary height worsened as he grew older. That year, he agreed to tour with the Ringling Brothers Circus. He appeared in the center ring, but in his normal clothes, refusing the top hat and tails the circus proposed.
Asked if he was annoyed by people staring at him, he replied, “No, I just overlook them.” Over… look… get it? It seems he had a sense of humor, too. He considered himself to be in advertising, not as an exhibition. He took his growing celebrity in stride, and the income helped offset medical bills. He did a promotional tour for a show company in exchange for them making him shoes for free – size 37.
Robert continued to grow until his death at 22. He struggled to walk, and a leg brace he obtained in his final week of life caused a blister which became infected, leading to his early demise during an appearance in Michigan. A life-size statue of Robert stand on College Avenue in Alton.
Today, there is treatment to arrest the kind of pituitary disorder that Wadlow suffered from, so it is possible the height record may never be broken. The tallest human today is still eight inches shorter. Basketball legend Shaquille O’Neal would be a shrimp in comparison – a foot and 10 inches shorter.
What about that Storm Lake visit?
It was clearly the talk of the town, promoted in excited tones in front-page articles for weeks in advance. The date was Sept. 6, 1939, about 10 months before Wadlow’s unexpected death.
Wadlow arrived, with his father, in a car specially designed for his height and weight of nearly 500 pounds. He shared a stage with the mayor, chamber director, and a Storm Lake beauty queen who was about to represent the city in the Clay County Fair pageant. The 6’2” police chief did indeed fail to snatch that dollar off Wadlow’s head, as did the city’s tallest resident of the time, 6’5” Keith Wall, who couldn’t stretch within six inches of the payday.
In a sense it was sad, as Wadlow was treated much as one would a rare circus animal. The papers said that “enormous crowds” of “awe stricken” thousands flocked to the city for a glimpse of him. Though it was clearly difficult for him to stand, he was induced to do so again and again, so people could gasp at the size difference between him and the townsfolk.
They gawked as he ate his dinner, faces pressed against the glass of the Martin’s Café window. The paper spoke with apparent disappointment that Robert ate a quite normal meal, not the five massive steaks that rumor had it would be devoured. Locals collected his autograph, signed with a hand that stretched well over a foot across. The paper remarked that those who spoke with him found him intelligent and a good conversationalist, the paper said, as if that would somehow not be expected from a large human.
He was supposed to be in Storm Lake for a quick hour’s stop, but lingered much longer, seemingly eager to satisfy the crowd that flocked around him on Lake Avenue downtown. The occasion would be spoken of as “Wadlow Day in Storm Lake,” and was clearly well remembered. He did not spent the night, as no hotel in Storm Lake had facilities to bed up a person of such dimensions. The nearest option was Sioux City. A sliding door between two rooms was opened, with two beds placed end to end so he might catch a comfortable night’s rest.
The Storm Lake Register devoted its first column on the front page to news of the passing of the young giant the following year, and the fond memories of his appearance here. The city had somewhat adopted him as their own.
You know the drill – we’re sharing history daily during Storm Lake’s Sesquicentennial year. Have a photo to share? Email communications@stormlake.org. Follow this page for more!



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