Commentary: The Gentle Giant of Alton: A Family Legacy

I grew up listening to the tales of a very tall man named Robert. My maternal Grandfather, Charles William Wadlow, as the story went, was a third cousin to the famed small-town gentle giant, Robert Pershing Wadlow. Grandpa, never one to avoid an opportunity for a captivating story, told of the visits Robert Wadlow, the world’s tallest man, made to his family’s farm outside of Willard, Missouri. The thing that stood out to my grandfather was that Robert was easily tall enough to peer through the transom windows over the doors prevalent in historic homes.

He would peer into the adjoining room to see who, or what, was happening from one room to another. Grandpa told of the times he was a little boy and Robert, his third cousin, would playfully hoist my little boy grandfather up in the air, set him atop his broad shoulders, and allow my grandpa to peer into the transom windows just like Robert could do with no effort. It was these boyhood visits, while few and far between, that my grandfather reveled in and shared with anyone who would listen. My beloved Grandpa Wadlow only met Robert a handful of times; however, he remembered that precious boyhood experience with his cousin, known as ‘The Gentle Giant’, up to his last living day on this earth.

As a young girl, I was obsessed with the Guinness Book of World Records. I would check the latest edition out from the local small town or school library and beg to buy the newest copy from the latest school book order. I practically had the small written account of Robert Pershing Wadlow, the world’s tallest man, memorized.

When I was a young girl, probably around 9 – 11years of age, my parents took me from our small hometown in Monett, Missouri to Alton, Illinois. We visited the history museum, the infamous life-sized statue, and perhaps the resting place of Robert Wadlow, although I do not recall the latter. I marveled at the size of this man’s shoes. I gloried at the feel of my little girl hand against the cold metal of his true-to-size beautifully sculptured hand. I stared into the kind-looking eyes that seemed to emit a certain grace and beauty not always found in the eyes of strangers, or even acquaintances I had met in my young life.

I continued to listen to my grandfather tell stories of his abnormally tall cousin, my own distant relation, throughout my years of childhood, into my adolescence, and continuing on into adulthood. I drew a pencil sketch of Robert Wadlow in my high school art class. I still have it to this day. ‘I am related to the tallest man in the world’, was often an ice-breaker I proudly utilized in school and career break-out groups throughout my life.

When I had my first son, William Amherst Deboef, I often regaled the stories of our family’s connection to the infamous ‘Gentle Giant’ of Alton, Illinois. As a kindergartener and first grader, my son faithfully checked out every single Guinness Book from the school library, just as I had done several decades before his arrival. He poured over the pictures of this man he was proud to call a relative and continually asked me to read the words he could not yet read on his own.

It was just this year, July 2024, as my oldest son turned 14 and my youngest son will soon be 12, that I decided they, too, should experience the joy of learning about their family history, by way of indulging in the small-town-turned-world-sensation of their distant relative, Robert Pershing Wadlow. Thus, my sons, along with my mother, a one-generation step closer to Robert than myself, traveled from Springfield, Missouri to Alton, Illinois, in search of our family history, new and unheard stories of this man we never had the pleasure of knowing, and excitedly ventured into nostalgic memories we could share for years to come.

It was a bit surreal to see my two sons standing next to the very same stature in which I stood as a child around their current ages. Witnessing them, along with my mother, a Wadlow surname, and very much their Grammy, look adoringly into the face representing such an intriguing part of our family history, truly took my breath away. Four generations (including my Grandpa Wadlow) tied to a man that made such a large impact, not only on his hometown community of Alton, but on the whole entire world. How very proud I felt, knowing that Robert’s kind, gentle, approachable, and engaging nature was, is, and always will be celebrated in this glorious little berg of historic nostalgia.

Nearly every restaurant, flea market, and gift shop we visited shared a brief, personal account of Robert Wadlow. The pawn shop downtown had a delightful chalk drawing of Robert with his father. While it was not for sale, the owner was happy to allow me to take pictures and engage in the story of how he acquired such a coveted piece of Alton history.

The owner of the bookstore we visited was a writer himself. He shared the article he wrote years prior on the life and times of Robert Wadlow. While most of Robert’s story has been researched, told, and written about several times over, there are always new tidbits of information I am excited to learn. The owner of a quaint little giftshop in downtown Alton proudly sold a transparent glass coffee/tea mug with a picture of Robert Wadlow, standing proudly with his beloved father, on the front. And finally, one antique shop owner pointed out the red line near the ceiling of his shop. It was drawn to depict the actual height of Robert’s tall frame so that guests could gain perspective on how he towered over the general population, then and now.

It truly seems that this giant of a man, with a super-sized heart to match, is every bit as much of a local celebrity today, as he was 82 years prior, when he walked the hilly brick-lined streets of this quaint historic River town named Alton.

My mother, two sons, and I meandered our way around Upper Alton in search of the burial place of Robert Wadlow. We found the cemetery with no problem. However, finding the nearly twelve-foot burial plot and grave marker was a bit more challenging. We knew what the gravestone looked like, thanks to a well-documented Google search online. We eventually found a corner of gravestones with the Wadlow family name lovingly etched on each headstone. Robert’s memorial was in the center, with his parents on one side, a brother and sister on the other, and a second brother to the right and slightly in front of where dear Robert was lovingly laid to rest at the young and impressionable age of 22.

We noticed that past visitors had paid homage to Robert’s grave by leaving shiny pennies, which lined the shelf near the bottom of his gravestone. My mother hunted for all the pennies in her possession and we each laid a few, heads up, along with the others, in a show of goodwill, honor, and love toward this great man whose shoes will likely never be filled by another, both physically and metaphorically.

We then visited the home in which Robert Wadlow lived at the time of his death. A beautiful old brick structure in Alton’s historic district. The home appears to be vacant and oddly enough, there is a life-sized replica of Robert in the front room, peering out the window at random onlookers and curious passers-by. Again, a feeling of nostalgia, for a family history I never quite knew, crept over me. As I took pictures of my mother sitting on the front steps, I envisioned Robert in his bedroom, writing letters to adoring fans, resting with a cup of iced tea with his parents and siblings in the front sitting room, and reveling in his giant life that was likely more burdensome than we will ever know.

Robert was known for his gentle demeanor, patience with the hordes of people that were not always kind to him, and the rare ability to connect with anyone interested in knowing him. What an absolute honor it is to be related to such a relatable man! I truly hope my sons will remember this adventure for years to come.

While I am saddened that we did not have the opportunity to know this wonderful cousin of ours, I somehow feel as if we did. That is, in large part, thanks to his local community of Alton, that has beautifully shared his story, gracefully continues to pay tribute to his life, and faithfully keeps his memory alive for future generations of relatives, historians, locals, tourists, guests, and the world at large.

I firmly believe that everyone who met, knew, and loved Robert was changed slightly for the better. His memory continues to permeate an essence of goodwill, kindness, and loyalty that our world is surely craving in present days. We all need a hero. Robert Pershing Wadlow, Alton’s famed ‘Gentle Giant’, played that vital role for my dear grandfather, and his honor trickled down throughout our family tree to my mother, myself, and now my own two sons. What a joy to share in the memory of his life, with those who shared his home in the beautifully quaint and historic town of Alton, Illinois.

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