photograph courtesy memphis & shelby county room, benjamin l. hooks central library
Dear Vance: Is it true that the D.T. Porter Building’s elevator — the first one in Memphis — was actually operated by mules? — G.M., Memphis.
Dear G.M.: If you are asking if mules operated the elevator car, by pressing the buttons with their hooves, then I can give you a hard “no” on that. And if you are instead wondering if mules somehow lifted and lowered the car, carrying passengers to all floors of the impressive office building that overlooks Court Square — a Downtown landmark for more than a century — then I’m going to give you a hard “no” on that as well.
I’m sorry to disappoint you. To answer your question, I studied the history of elevators — not the most fun way to spend a night in the Lauderdale Mansion (though I’ve had worse) — and hundreds of years ago, various animals tugged on ropes and pulleys to raise platforms during the construction of buildings. But these were smaller structures, and if somebody decided to engage animals to carry passengers to the roof of a 12-story building, would mules really be the best choice? I mean, aren’t they called “stubborn as a mule” for a reason? I wouldn’t want to be stuck in an elevator car when the mule decided it was time to rest and chew on hay or whatever it is that they enjoy.
Besides, how would this elevator-mule system have worked? It’s too depressing to think they stayed in the basement, walking endlessly on a treadmill linked to the elevator car. And no old photos I’ve ever seen of Main Street show mules, plodding alongside Court Square, hooked to cables, walking back and forth to raise and lower the car.
Everything suggests that, even though the Porter Building elevator was indeed the first in Memphis, it wasn’t a crude, animal-powered prototype. Even so, it was a novelty here, and Memphians paid 10 cents to ride to the roof of what was then the tallest building in town.
So put the mules out of your mind. Back in 1853, an inventor named Elisha Otis presented the first “passenger safety elevator” at the Crystal Palace Convention in New York City. By the time workers completed the D.T. Porter Building in 1895, advanced machinery — steam-powered, hydraulic, electrical — was available for elevators. I’m not saying these systems were as safe and reliable as they are now. After all, it wasn’t until 1877 that somebody thought to install automatic doors on elevators. Until then, a disturbing number of impatient passengers opened the doors themselves and tumbled down an empty shaft.
Everything suggests that, even though the Porter Building elevator was indeed the first in Memphis, it wasn’t a crude, animal-powered prototype. Even so, it was a novelty here, and Memphians paid 10 cents to ride to the roof of what was then the tallest building in town.
So let me ask a question for a change: Who was D.T. Porter, and why was this grand building named after him? Well, since this is my column, I’ll answer that. He was born on a farm in Robertson County, Tennessee, in 1827, moved with his family to Kentucky, then to Nashville, and then to Memphis. Even though he was always called “Dr.” (it even says so on the building and his tombstone) he never seems to have practiced medicine. Some biographers believe that Porter actually held a degree in pharmacy, but he never bothered with that occupation either.
photograph by vance lauderdale
In her book, Elmwood 2002: In the Shadows of the Elms, historian Perre Magness has this to say about David Tinsley Porter (the full name he rarely used): “In 1857, he came to Memphis and entered the grocery and commission business with various partners. During the yellow fever epidemic of 1873, he was an indefatigable member of the Citizens Relief Committee.”
He assumed far more important roles in our city during the more dreadful 1878 yellow fever epidemic. Magness quotes from an earlier historian, J.M. Keating, author of A History of Memphis, Tennessee, with Biographical Sketches (first published in 1888), who notes that when Memphis lost its charter and became a taxing district, “The people of Memphis were so well-acquainted with [Porter] as a successful merchant, a man of great character and incorruptible integrity, as well as of rare benevolence, that they at once selected him for the very responsible position of president of the taxing district, the equivalent of mayor, president of the board of works, and recorder.”
Back to Magness: “He initiated sanitary reforms and sewer building and did much to contribute to the rebuilding of the city.” Those efforts, among others, eliminated the breeding grounds for the mosquitos that carried the deadly fever.
The next time anyone is strolling along Main Street or visiting Court Square, I encourage them to pause and study this building. The details really are remarkable, and it’s one of my favorite structures in Memphis.
And now, for one last time, back to Keating: “Porter devoted himself with singleness of purpose to the work of rehabilitating a city, putting fresh blood in its veins, and reviving it from the very jaws of death.” Magness notes that in the late 1800s Porter was also president of Memphis National Bank, president of Planters Fire Insurance Company, president of Gayoso Oil Seed Works, director of the Brush Electric Light Company, and a trustee of the Leath Orphan Asylum.
After his death in 1898, his name was added to that institution, known today as Porter-Leath.
He was laid to rest in Elmwood, alongside his wife, Mildred, and his son, Willie, both of whom had died before him. Porter’s grave is marked with an impressive monument (shown above), but his family decided he deserved a much larger memorial. In 1900 they purchased the Continental National Bank Building, which had been constructed on Main Street, and renamed it the Dr. D.T. Porter Building.
Let that be a lesson to all my half-dozen readers: Do good deeds during your lifetime, and your heirs might buy a bank and rename it after you. It could happen.
The D.T. Porter Building stands today, looking as nice as the day it opened, as one of our city’s most astonishing architectural creations. Architect Edward C. Jones had designed nice homes and churches across the South. This was supposedly his first “skyscraper” and — I mean this in the nicest way — it seems like he changed his mind about the design with every story. No other building in our city looks quite like it.
The Society of Architectural Historians describes its unique style in this way: “The Main Street elevation is 11 stories high, though a third of the building is one additional story on the side facing Court Square. The rhythm of the fenestration on this west side is idiosyncratic. The expected grid of square windows is interrupted by an asymmetrical arrangement of rounded arches on the fourth, seventh, and tenth floors. To further break up symmetry, the main entrance — flanked by Corinthian columns of red granite — is located in the fifth of six bays. Stylistically, the building combines elements from the Italian Renaissance and Richardsonian Romanesque.”
The next time anyone is strolling along Main Street or visiting Court Square, I encourage them to pause and study this building. The details really are remarkable, and it’s one of my favorite structures in Memphis.
photograph by anna traverse fogle
Continental National Bank closed around 1900. Over the years, other businesses moved in, occupying the ornate lobby and the upper floors. In 1983, new owners renovated the building top to bottom and converted it to apartments, adding a rooftop deck.
I should point out that the elaborate exterior only applies to the north and west sides of the D.T. Porter Building. The east and south sides are plain brick, because developers assumed other buildings would go up next door, blocking any windows placed on those walls. But that never happened, so two sides remained blank until 1974, when a project called “Downtown Wall Art of Memphis” provided funds for local artists to paint “supergraphics” on various buildings.
My pal Wayne Dowdy with the Memphis and Shelby County Room turned up that information, noting that the newspaper articles about this project — though listing more than a dozen artists who participated — never specified who painted this particular mural. Perhaps by the time you read this, I can tell you more about the artist. I wrote to “Ask Vance” but I’m still waiting for a reply.
Got a question for Vance?
Email: askvance@memphismagazine.com
Mail: Vance Lauderdale, Memphis magazine, P.O. Box 1738, Memphis, TN 38101
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