Walt Hull has been around Lawrence for years, always donning his signature colorful hat, plaid shirt and weathered overalls, with a distinctive, friendly Midwestern way about him. 

Hull was the blacksmith who designed the decorative wrought iron vines on the exterior of the church at 1000 New York St. in the 1990s when a previous owner transformed the property from a church into a home. 

As the present-day steward of this property, I recently asked Hull if he’d design an interior stair railing at the property that would be in harmony with the vines on the exterior.

Of course, the railing turned out gorgeous. It’s a functional architectural fixture and a sculptural work of art.

I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Hull.

We met at his shop in the unincorporated community of Pleasant Grove, about 8 miles south of Lawrence on Old 59 Highway.

Hull was born in Des Moines, Iowa. His family moved to Ames, Iowa, where his father was a machinist and writer. Unbeknownst to everyone, including his father, he was working on the Manhattan Project, running the shop machines forming graphite for use in building nuclear weapons during World War II. 

When the war was over, the family moved near Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

“It was a great place to grow up, to be a 10-year-old boy,” Hull recalls fondly. “I had the run of the town.”

Hull graduated high school and found his way to Lawrence to attend the University of Kansas, graduating with a bachelor’s degree in English and marrying the love of his life, Ruth. They have been married 63 years and have a son who is a software engineer.

Hull’s path to become a blacksmith was not linear. It consisted of a series of choices and responses to life circumstances. 

Hull followed Ruth, a Fulbright scholar, to Vienna for an academic year. The couple then moved to England for a year, where Hull worked on a survey of English dialects. He then worked at a mission school on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, helping develop bilingual education materials to teach Lakota to Native American students who didn’t speak the language. 

In 1972, they loaded the VW Squareback and returned to Lawrence. Their son, David, was 8 years old. Ruth was working at KU, and Hull enrolled in the linguistics doctoral program. Hull also hired on with Zimmerman Steel as a truck driver. 

“They didn’t have enough driving work to keep me busy, so they made a steel fabricator out of me,” he said. 

The focus of his dissertation was the phonology of the Lakota language. However, Hull quickly discovered he could not work full-time and do the research for the dissertation. 

“The notes for the dissertation are still in my drawer,” he said.

Hull worked his way up to shop foreman. 

“I learned some stuff about steel and how it behaves, a lot of things about architecture and construction,” he said. 

Then he got the itch to go into business for himself.

“I read some magazines and books and saw there was a lot more potential for ornamental iron than what was available here and I thought, ‘I know how to fabricate steel; I know how to do the math for the building. I just need to get some tools together,’” he said. “I wanted to learn how to do it a little differently and a little better than everyone else.”

I asked Hull to define what a blacksmith is. Hull smiled. 

“That’s a good question. Someone who makes things out of iron and steel principally by forging it,” he said. Forging is the working of metal by plastic deformation. Metals at some temperatures can be molded. 

“You deform steel without cutting it or breaking it or melting it,” he said. “You deform it by getting it hot and pushing it around somehow; it could be by a mechanical hammer and hand hammer on the anvil; it could be with presses.”

I was curious about the spark that caused Hull to choose blacksmithing as a vocational path.

“Once I took a hammer and started moving hot iron around and getting it to do what I wanted, I really liked that feeling,” he said. “I really wanted to do it some more.” 

Hull added, “There is a contrast between what steel is like when it’s hot and what it’s like when it’s cold. You can do something very delicate in steel, but when it’s cold, it’s strong. I like that. It’s hard to do. It’s hard to move. It’s very challenging.”

In the early 1980s, Hull sought out regional blacksmiths, joined the Blacksmiths Association of Missouri and hung out with anyone he could learn from. Around 1982, he said, he got some business cards and went into business part time making wedding presents and the like. He had about $50 to $100 in sales that first year, he said.

Hull continued to work full time at Zimmerman Steel while doing his own jobs part time out of his small garage behind the home where he still resides on Massachusetts Street.

His first big job was designing, forging and installing 300 feet of wrought iron fencing that surrounds Barry Shalinsky’s home on the corner of Seventh and Connecticut streets. The design was inspired by the old “Maupin house” at 1613 Tennessee St. 

Hull recalled another important job. He designed, fabricated and installed the fencing around the Union Pacific Depot in North Lawrence. Fortunately, community activists and preservationists mobilized and saved it from the demolition ball in the early 1980s. 

“The fence was 600 feet long, the size of two football fields, plus some air conditioner and trash enclosures, couple gates,” Hull said. “It was a big job and enabled me to step out of one income stream into another.” 

Hull had a circle of friends help, along with his wife, family members and Kate Dineen, to mention a few.

Hull worked at Zimmerman Steel for 20 years, from 1974 through April 1994, when Hull gave his resignation to Lee Zimmerman. 

“Zimm’s was a good outfit. They were good, honest businessmen, try to do good work,” Hull said. “I learned a lot just from being there on how to run a business from Lee.” 

Hull was also involved in several projects that would help change the look and feel of our historic downtown: he kicked off the addition of outdoor seating in the early 1990s.

Hull recalled designing the first railings for outdoor seating at Papa Keno’s (now Latchkey Deli), Thai House (now Delicias del Sur), Teller’s (now Merchants Pub & Plate), Milton’s Cafe and the Bourgeois Pig.

Another significant job Hull worked on was at Corpus Christi Catholic Church in Lawrence.

Hull forged the reredos, which is the massive screen behind the altar.

It’s 28 feet tall and 25 feet wide with individual pieces weighing more than 100 pounds, Hull said.

“Nadia Zhiri of Treanor drew the concept for that piece. I did the nuts-and-bolts design down to a sixteenth of an inch,” Hull said. 

He’s done some subsequent work for the church, including the stair railing going up to the altar, a couple of music stands and the sconces along the wall where the speakers are hidden.

Hull, now 83 years old, has no intention of retiring. He works about 20 hours a week at his shop. It’s hard work, but as Hull said, “If it was easy, everybody would be doing it.”

I asked Hull how he feels about his career and his choice to be a blacksmith. He responded with a big smile.

“I got away with it!” he said. “I’m still married. I’m not in the poor house. In the meantime, I’ve managed to raise a son I am proud of.”

“I’ve never been terribly goal-driven — I don’t know if that’s a weakness or a strength, but I feel like I’ve had a pretty good life,” he continued. “I don’t regret all the academic stuff, or anything else I’ve done; some of it worked, some of it didn’t.” 

Our community and built environment are the clear benefactors of Walt and Ruth Hull. If you are lucky enough to have crossed paths with them, you know. If you haven’t, I hope this article helps you appreciate some of our best.

Note: A quote in this article has been corrected.

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