Muscles of Iron
Strength, Health, Physical Development, Inspiration, and Know-How
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Hank Darnell was a remarkable man, and his story is one of the most breathtaking and noble that I have come across. Photograph courtesy of Ralph Cameron.
A few years ago I wrote an article for the Dinosaur Files about Ralph Cameron, a former bodybuilder who had placed third in the 1949 Mr. Louisville contest just a few days before he was drafted into the US Army. During my interviews with Mr. Cameron in preparation for this article, on numerous occasions he referred to a fellow named Hank Darnell. Hank owned and operated the Darnell Physical Culture Studio in Louisville, Kentucky, a training facility that was located at 19th Street and Broadway during the late 1940s. Many of the Louisville’s best built men had trained there, including Ralph Cameron.
Not far from his studio, Hank owned a used car lot at 901 West Broadway Street. His motto was, “Trade Well with Darnell.” But, this motto was not just a sales pitch, as one might suspect. Hank was a man who possessed an unusually high standard of ethics, and he always tried to make sure that his customers got a fair and honest deal. This is one reason why he was so highly respected by the people who knew him.
Hank Darnell passed away on November 16, 1996 at the age of 79. I was very saddened to learn this when I was working to track him down for an interview last year. Fortunately, however, last summer I learned that Hank had a son and that he was a lawyer in Louisville. I contacted Hank’s son through his office and arranged to meet with him and his wife for an interview. The interview took place last May, and it lasted nearly five hours. Out of this interview came well over 20 pages of hand written notes and some of the most incredible stories I have ever heard. In due time, these stories, among many others, will be published in a book that I must write. And, this leads to the topic of this post.
Ralph Cameron learned how to build his muscles from his mentor Hank Darnell. Photograph courtesy of Ralph Cameron.
Yesterday morning I went to visit my doctor before heading to work. Going to the doctor’s office altered my usual driving path, and upon leaving I wasn’t sure which road I should take to minimize my driving time to my place of employment. After a bit of quick thinking, I came up with a plan to get onto the Watterson Expressway and head West. I figured this path would provide the shortest and easiest route to get to work. My plan failed, however, when I inadvertently took a wrong turn and ended up lost and guessing my way back to familiar areas. After a bit of guess work, I managed to get onto 9th Street just a few miles away from where I worked. I was back in familiar territory and feeling comfortable once again.
As I drove up 9th Street, I was forced to stop at a red light right smack at the corner of Broadway Street. In front of me on Broadway Street just to my right was the historic L&N Office Building, once the headquarters of the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, and one of the largest commercial buildings of Beaux Arts style still standing.
Across the street from the mammoth L&N office building appeared a little white building with a small parking lot. It was dwarfed by its neighboring structure and barely noticeable. Wondering what the small building was, my eyes gazed across a sign in front of it. It read, Occupational Physician Services, 901 West Broadway Street. I was stunned. Here I sat at a red light looking at the same building where customers once traded well with Darnell. Only now it is a medical facility.
When the traffic light turned green, I proceeded onward towards work. And during my last few miles of driving, all I could think about was how I was going to get into the building I had just seen at 901 West Broadway Street. I thought to myself, “I must see for myself the very offices that were once occupied by Hank Darnell and his sales staff.”
Shortly after delving into deep thought about the little white building I had just seen on Broadway Street, I arrived at work and went into my office. I shut my door, and then I sat down at my desk and got ready to read through my emails. However, before I could get my computer booted up, my telephone rang. I could see from the LED display on the phone that it was my boss calling.
I picked up the phone and uttered, “Hi, this is Rob.” On the other end of the line, my boss replied, “Rob, you need to go to Occupational Physicians Services located at 901 West Broadway. Please get there within 15 minutes. You’ve been randomly selected for a company drug test.”
Fifteen minutes later I was back at 901 West Broadway Street, this time inside the little white building that had once been occupied by Hank Darnell and his sales force. I wondered if the current staff at Occupational Physicians Services had any clue of the building’s history and of the many incredible events that had taken place inside this dwelling during Darnell’s reign. Probably not. I also wondered if my orders for a drug test at 901 West Broadway Street, the first that I received in over 20 years of employment, was just an eerie coincidence or the result of divine interaction. I’m not sure, but my instinct tells me that I better quit procrastinating and get back to working on my book rather quickly.
Thanks for visiting,
Rob