T
By PRESTON EVANS
What could be more rare than a Mills "Chicago" slot
machine? There's a possibility it could be the desk Her-
bert S. Mills sat at in 1899 to sign production orders for
the new Mills "20th Century" slot machine. It would
appear some mysterious big shot at the Mills Novelty
Co. felt the need for a grand workstation and had one
created from an ornate Mills "Chicago" slot machine
cabinet. This exciting find was recently discovered not
far from the old Mills slot machine factory. It had mi-
raculously existed in the corner stall of a barn in a heav-
ily trafficked area for quite a number of years. Yet not
one passerby had noticed what it was and more impor-
tantly what historical significance it may have had. In
this day and age in which it seems everyone is a collec-
tor of something, surely some of those passers by had to
have had some knowledge of Victorian slot machines.
Yet the years went by, and no one noticed.
The origins of this piece are from a time in Mills slot
machine history with which many coin-op collectors
are very familiar. The year was 1899, and the Mills
Novelty Company had been enjoying great commercial
success with the Owl floor model slot machine. In the
previous year, Herbert S. Mills had acquired control-
ling interest in the company from his father, Mortimer
Mills. Following the success of the Owl, Mills intro-
duced the Admiral, which was updated and renamed
after the war hero Admiral Dewey. Mills Novelty Co.
was becoming the nation's largest manufacturer of slot
machines. A sister machine to the Admiral Dewey was
now in production: The Chicago, named after the city
in which Mills Novelty was based. The Chicago was
a grand floor model machine with a six-way coin head
and quarter sawn white oak cabinetry featuring fluted
columns and raised panel rail and style construction.
All the iron castings were beautifully done and featured
at the lower front and center of the machine was a relief
figure of Miss Columbia, the woman from Chicago's
World Columbian Exposition.
It was at this point in time, we believe, that someone
in the Mills factory on Chicago's West Randolph Street
began to look at the unfinished cabinets in the produc-
tion room and imagine what it would take to fill the need
for a small desk from an unfinished "Chicago" cabinet.
Could it have been Herbert Stephen Mills or maybe
Mortimer Birdsul Mills, who having now gone to work
for his son, that said, "Let's build it!"? It wasn' t too
much earlier that a reverend from Indianapolis named
William Wooten had been successful in the manufac-
ture of ornate pigeonhole desks designed to be closed
up when the work was done. Maybe something not so
large as this could provide a little work area in a corner
of the factory or maybe even in the home of one of the
Mills family.
Whatever the purpose was that inspired this adapta-
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