On your right sits Murillo Flats, a rectangular three story red brick apartment building distinguished by its projecting bay windows on the upper floors. We just left the manicured lawns of the sculpture park a few blocks behind us, and now we are staring at a 705 ton brick monument to pure stubbornness. This building embodies the ultimate clash between preservation and the march of corporate progress.
Built in 1903 by James McNamara, it was briefly called McNamara Flats. But McNamara possessed a flair for marketing. Following a highly successful local art exhibit featuring Bartolome Esteban Murillo, a celebrated 17th century Spanish painter, he renamed it Murillo Flats. It was a clever tactic, linking the emerging concept of apartment living with the prestige of high culture.
Fast forward to September 2007. Wellmark Blue Cross and Blue Shield announced plans to build a massive new headquarters downtown, swallowing up six and a half acres. Murillo Flats, along with a neighboring 1880 row house, sat right in the crosshairs. Wellmark offered a ruthless deal. They would give the buildings away for free, provided someone moved them off the lot by March 1, 2008. Otherwise, the wrecking ball was coming.
Enter the Sherman Hill Neighborhood Association. They organized a frantic, highly coordinated campaign to save these structures from demolition. Phil Kaser, a local investor, agreed to finance the rescue. They hired Mike Kinter as the general contractor, the lead manager who oversees the entire construction project, to orchestrate the logistics. He brought in Patterson Structural Movers to tackle the Murillo.
Preparing a brick apartment building for a road trip took 17 days. Crews severed the building from its foundation using massive water lubricated chainsaws. They jacked up the entire structure using hydraulics and lowered it onto dollies, which are low, heavy duty wheeled platforms. But these were not ordinary dollies. They featured 192 individually powered wheels that could pivot 90 degrees, allowing the building to slide in different directions without turning the entire massive structure. A beautiful piece of engineering.
Moving day was Saturday, March 1. The absolute final deadline. City officials demanded the move happen during daylight to protect sewer pipes from the crushing weight. They started at dawn. Naturally, the ground was a nightmare. On that day, a notoriously wet storm combined with melting snow to create deep mud, trapping those 192 high tech wheels. Instead of a smooth roll, it became a grueling tug of war. They had to call in two heavy duty tow trucks just to drag the flats onto High Street, turning a one hour stroll into a tense four hour ordeal. But they made it, parking it safely next to its newly dug foundation. National TV crews even filmed the whole saga.
Kaser pragmatically planned to rent the units for exactly five years to monitor the real estate market, potentially selling them as condominiums later. This building is a survivor. As our tour comes to an end, I hope you take away exactly what this city is made of. Des Moines is a place defined by people willing to drag a 705 ton brick building through the mud just to prove a point. From skyscrapers built on sheer optimism to neighborhood associations staring down corporate bulldozers, that fighting spirit is permanently poured into the foundations here. Thanks for walking with me today.
