05/07/2023
The sun shone brightly in the skies over Bettendorf, Iowa, glinting off the Mississippi River nearby. The water flowed lazily along, insects buzzing noisily in the long grass and reeds along the banks.
Inside the Zimmerman Steel Casting Co. building, the workers tried their best to cope with the July heat. Only five years old in 1920, they were a fully modern foundry specializing in steel castings. In that short time, they had built quite a reputation.
At his work bench on the factory floor, 36-year-old Leroy Stowell wasn’t thinking about any of this. He was just glad to have a job.
The sounds of machinery filled the air, punctuated by the yells of foreman shouting to be heard above the noise, giving orders, praise, and criticism in equal measure.
LeRoy didn’t mind it, though. He was used to the sights and sounds of an industrial floor, and he just tuned it out as he continued to work.
For the past ten years, he had worked on the nearby Rock Island Arsenal, a government manufacturing installation only a few miles away. Leroy had easily been able to support himself, his wife, and their children with his salary, and the future looked bright.
Then, a few months prior, the bottom had dropped out of his world. A round of lay offs hit the Arsenal, and he was one of the workers they had let go. Leroy was instantly left without a paycheck. There was no unemployment, no kind of federal or state aid to draw from in 1920. Whatever savings that he had wouldn’t last long, and he needed a job as soon as possible.
Then, around June of 1920, Zimmerman had hired him. For the past month, Leroy showed up to work on time and worked hard. This was a decent job, and he wasn’t about to lose a second one.
He focused on his work, carefully guiding the piece in his hand around an emery wheel, a kind of grinding tool, smoothing away rough spots and sharp edges on the castings that were sent his way.
Suddenly, a scream pierced the noise, so loud and sharp that it could easily be heard over all of the other sound in the room. Workers immediately stopped what they were doing, their heads whipping toward where they thought the scream had come from.
There, on the floor, was Leroy, still as one of the castings they worked on. The workers closest to him ran to his side and checked him. His eyes stared back at them, unblinking. Blood ran freely from a deep gash in his head.
Leroy Stowell was dead.
The foreman on the floor, along with company officials, examined his work bench to see if they couldn’t figure out what happened. The emery wheel that he had been working with was broken and the machine was still running.
After a short deliberation, they realized that the wheel must have broken as Leroy worked. A piece of it had snapped off and went flying into his stomach, doubling him over with the force of the impact. As he lurched forward, his head went into the jagged remnants of the wheel attached to the still-moving machine, killing him.
The authorities were called to the factory to remove Leroy’s remains and verify the cause of death.
While they began their short investigation into Stowell’s death, another worker named Henry Elkan was working near a core-drying oven in a different part of the facility.
As he stood nearby working on something, the oven exploded without warning. Elkan was knocked to the ground, a burning pain spreading across his scalp. After a moment, he was able to get back to his feet.
Another worker in the area, Dan O’Connor, was also hurt in the explosion.
Elkan and O’Connor were taken taken to the hospital and treated for their wounds. As it turned out, Elkan only had a minor headwound caused by a piece of flying metal. O’Connor was hurt much worse, suffering from a deep cut and a badly burned forearm.
About two hours later, as the company investigated Stowell’s death, a core-drying oven in a different part of the facility exploded without warning.
Henry Elkan, who had been standing nearby, was taken to the hospital, and treated for what turned out to be a minor headwound caused by a piece of flying metal from the oven. Another man, Dan O’Connor, was treated for a badly cut and burned forearm.
The officials at Zimmerman decided to shut down the factory until both of these incidents could be properly investigated. The authorities reached the conclusion that both events, while highly unusual, were simply “unavoidable.” The factory resumed normal operations shortly thereafter.
Leroy Stowell was buried in Oakdale Cemetery in Davenport, Iowa, after a quiet service.
