Let’s face it. Even a Denverphile like myself knows our skyline is not one of the world’s greatest.
After all, our most recognizable high-rise, the so-called Cash Register building, was intended for somewhere else.
But Denver’s not without its vertical charms, namely the Daniels & Fisher Tower. The tower, which was once part of a posh department store, keeps watch over the 16th Street Mall with its four clocks.
At the time of its construction in 1910, it was the tallest building between the Mississippi River and California.
I had been to the tower’s basement cabaret many times – most memorably to laugh and cry as the now-late Leslie Jordan shared stories of growing up short and queer.
But I hadn’t been to the tippy-top.
And then Historic Denver, Inc. began guided and self-guided tours earlier this year.
What follows are four fascinating facts I learned – one for each clockface.
Shopping was way more luxurious back then. The tower is proof.
The tower has 21 floors. Each one is 40 feet by 40 feet, and each had its purpose, explained volunteer tour guide Robert Ehmann.
“The general manager had his office on one entire floor ... There was a men’s employee lounge, a women’s employee lounge. There was a buyer’s lounge. There was a hospital during business hours with an on-staff nurse for the employees. And there was a school!” Ehmann said.
A school?
Ehmann explained: “The Daniels & Fisher department store had teens working. They were cash runners … These were sought-after jobs, and Daniels & Fisher wanted these children to be educated.”
The tower was tall. So was the doorman.
Carl Sandell stood at an impressive 7 feet 3 inches. Also impressive was his commitment as Daniels & Fisher doorman, a job that he worked for more than half a century.
“This job has done a lot for me. I now can look at a person for five minutes and tell you what kind of a man he is. I’ve seen a lot of them come and go in my day,” he told The Rocky Mountain News in 1960, the year before he retired.
“If this job has done nothing else, it has given me my wife.” (His 5-foot-tall spouse, Johanna, was one of those D&F nurses.)
Seeing the backside of the clocks is a steampunk experience.
You’ll take an elevator to the highest floors. Upon your arrival, the formidable clocks begin to reveal themselves. Climbing the stairs from there, your shoulder nearly brushes the unremitting mechanisms, driven by what look like bicycle chains.
Your ear is naturally drawn to the subtle ticking — a second-long meditation, again and again. It reminded me of the steampunk aesthetic, an anachronistic blend of Victorian aesthetics and fantastical technology.
After the surrounding department store was demolished during the Urban Renewal movement of the 1970s, the clocktower sat empty — even exposed to the elements. A Good Samaritan kept the clock running, explained tour guide Ehmann.
“Bill Pierson owned the radio station KBPI. Before the building was imploded, the tower had electricity, and he used that to power his transmitter. Once the tower was open to the elements, there was no more electricity. So Pierson is reported to have come up here daily to handcrank the clock mechanism.”
The views from the top-floor observation deck are breathtaking
Fresh air and endless sight lines await as you cozy up to the penthouse’s stone railings outside.
Would the view be even better if the renovation of the 16th Street Mall were complete? Sure. Setting aside that visual disruption, one is acquainted with the many taller buildings that sprouted up in the ensuing decades.
In the distance, I spotted Denver’s tallest skyscraper, Republic Plaza, at 56 floors. Summiting that one remains a dream of mine.
Editor's note: This article was updated Nov. 27, 2024, at 9 a.m. to correct the spelling of Bill Pierson's name. Also, the headline was updated to reflect that it was once the tallest tower for 1,500 miles, correcting an editor's error in calculating the distance.
