A Midwestern Tragedy

In 1976, a young man entered Wichita’s downtown Holiday Inn—Kansas’s tallest building at the time. He rode the elevator to the top, carrying two rifles and a lunch pail packed with bullets. For the next 11 minutes, the man fired dozens of shots into the crowd below. Wounding eight. Killing three. Sparing no one.

Understanding the Era

1976: America stood at the crossroads of a rocky path years in the making.

In 1973, the beleaguered nation finally withdrew its troops from the Vietnam War. In 1974, a disgraced President Nixon resigned the presidency to avoid criminal conviction. And in 1975, a severe recession dragged on with high inflation, low economic growth, and persistent unemployment.

As a result, many Americans felt weary and pessimistic heading into 1976—our nation’s Bicentennial. Coast to coast, the country needed something to celebrate. Even at its very center.

As One Century Ends, Another Begins

Wichita’s Second Century Takes Shape

In the 1970s, Wichita, Kansas still felt like a small town. But the city had large ambitions. The decade didn’t just see America commemorate its 200th birthday: 1970 marked Wichita’s Centennial, the 100-year anniversary of the city’s incorporation.

In 1969, anticipating the milestone, Wichita built a new performing arts and convention center in the heart of downtown. Officials named this center “Century II,” heralding the city’s next 100 years and centering its sense of civic pride.

A High Rise for Rising Spirits

To welcome visitors, a brand-new Holiday Inn opened across the street from Century II.

Standing at over 260 feet tall, the 26-story hotel became Kansas’s tallest building at the time. New shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues quickly sprang up in the surrounding area, increasing pedestrian and vehicular traffic. As the development grew, the city teemed with excitement for its future.

August 11, 1976

A Drizzly Afternoon Turns Deadly

Wednesday, August 11th, 1976: A drizzly day in Wichita.

Shortly before 3:00 p.m., a Dodge Coronet pulled into the Holiday Inn’s north parking lot. Its driver—a pudgy, freckled young man in thick glasses and an even thicker mop of reddish-brown hair—reached for a crumpled paper sack on the passenger seat. The sack contained one dozen boxes of recently purchased ammunition.

The young man tore open the box lids and stacked the ammunition into a silver lunch pail, filling it to the brim. The man slid two rifles—a .22 magnum and a .30-30 Savage—into a satchel and slung it over his shoulder. Then, he strode toward the hotel’s entrance at a measured pace.

Raining Bullets

The man crouched and loaded his weapons.

He rested the .30-30 on the balcony’s ledge and peered through the scope. Then, he drew in a breath and squeezed the trigger before exhaling.

Crack!

The sniper chose his targets at random, tracking any movement that caught his eye. Shots echoed in the gorge of downtown buildings. Screams filled the air. And bullets replaced droplets as the sniper rained down terror into the heart of downtown Wichita.

The Victims

  • Larry Ade worked as an assistant cashier at the Century Plaza building’s Mid-Continent Investments. At 2:45, he left the office to copy some documents at a nearby print shop.

    Larry stood at the southwest corner of Douglas and Main. As he waited for the light to change, Larry felt something fly by his shoulder…

  • Glass workers Ray Merritt and Wally Hensley finished installing new windows on the second-story landing of the Holiday Inn Plaza’s Page Court. As the men cleaned up their worksite, they heard gunshots.

    Ray thought robbers held up the First National Bank next door. He and Wally leaned over the edge but saw nothing. Then, a shot landed at their feet, spraying gravel upward…

  • Teenager Janice Goodwin and her friends bought tickets to the upcoming Dr. Hook concert at Century II. On their way back to the car, Janice heard a loud crack overhead. Right away, she registered the sound as a gunshot…

  • Forrest Hudlin waited at Century II’s driveway for a ride from his ex-wife, Virginia. Just after she pulled up and Forrest got inside the car, a bullet shattered its left rear side window. Broken glass sprayed everywhere. Shards sliced into the car seat, the footwell, and Forrest’s legs…

  • Joe Goulart, a successful freelance photojournalist, prided himself on being the first on site at crime scenes. So, when his police scanner reported an active shooter at the Holiday Inn Plaza, Joe ran from his living room to his Dodge Dart without even putting on his shoes, rushing to Century II Plaza…

  • Mark Falen, a young loan officer, left his office building to visit a project site. His coworker and friend, Doug Starkweather, accompanied him. The two men drove east on Douglas when they heard a gunshot…

  • Teenage sisters Penny and Denise Guseman worked part-time gardening jobs at the city courthouse. When the girls finished their work, they drove their Ford Pinto to Century II. The sisters wanted to relax and enjoy some downtime in the convention center’s plaza. As they drove down Century Drive, Penny heard gunfire…

  • Steven Morgan, a passerby, noticed the trouble on Page Court’s roof and climbed up the ladder to help. As Steven reached Wally Hensley, more shots rained down. Bullets shattered a window, and glass fragments flew in every direction. Including Steven’s…

  • Chris Hoy worked as a pipefitter for a local air conditioning company. That afternoon, he loaded a truck with building materials for the new Kansas Coliseum, currently under construction. Chris drove the company’s pickup truck east on Douglas as the shots rained down. The truck idled at the Douglas and Water stoplight when he heard what he thought was an explosion…

Police on the Scene

Within minutes of the first shots fired, police received an emergency dispatch:

“Active shooter at the Holiday Inn Plaza!”

Sirens howled on police cruisers as officers raced to the hotel. When they arrived on the scene, rifle shots cracked overhead. Down below, bullets bit into asphalt, buildings, passing cars, and anyone unlucky enough to enter the shooter’s crosshairs.

The officers craned their necks and spotted a glint from the southeast penthouse balcony: the rifle’s scope catching the midday sun. As bullets pelted the ground, the men sought cover behind cars, concrete pillars, brick walls, and metal awnings. The officers knew they had to act fast to prevent mass casualties. In between shots, they risked their lives climbing for better vantage points and returning suppressive fire.

But the sniper remained undeterred.

As Wichitans across the city learned the news, many questions arose: How could something like this happen? Why were these people targeted?

And who could do something so evil?

  • Michael Soles lived in the basement apartment at 132 South Green Street, a 1920s Craftsman bungalow in a modest but comfortable neighborhood on Wichita, Kansas’s east side. Calling the basement’s spare room an apartment is probably being generous. It had just enough space for a bed, a few pieces of furniture, and as many personal belongings as Michael could fit into the back of his 1973 Dodge Coronet. Michael bought the car in Wichita, but he chose to register the sedan back home in Sand Springs, Oklahoma. Perhaps because Michael wasn’t yet sure whether or not he wanted to stay in this new city. It probably depended on how things would turn out for him. It was the first time the 19-year-old had been away from home on his own. Away from his mom and dad and the family farm and the hunting grounds he loved so much. Wichita, a metropolis surrounded by suburbs, didn’t offer much in the way of hunting. But Michael brought his rifles with him just in case—a .22 Magnum and a .30-30 Savage that he mounted on a gun rack over his bed in the small basement bedroom of 132 Green Street.

    The house belonged to the Huttons, a family Michael had only recently become acquainted with through the Baptist church and its connections with Sand Springs and Wichita. Reverend Tim Hutton led the congregation at Wichita’s Seneca Street Church of Christ. And when Michael expressed interest in leaving home and giving Wichita a go, Reverend Hutton opened his home to the young man so he could get established, find a job, and take his first steps toward adulthood and independence. Unfortunately, Michael stumbled at every turn. Several companies offered him work, but he just couldn’t seem to hold down a job for longer than a few weeks. Perhaps this was due to the crummy economy, or Michael’s history of learning difficulties, or just plain bad luck. When Michael broke his leg roller-skating and couldn’t get around, he lost his job at the local hospital. Ironic that a physical injury would cost him his gig at a place meant to heal people. Sometimes, life can be a bitch. So now Michael, hobbled by insecurity and a half-inch plaster cast on his leg, found himself with plenty of downtime but nothing much to do. But it wasn’t for a lack of effort.

    Michael, a socially awkward introvert, had tried for months to step out of his comfort zone and make new friends by attending church gatherings, like the ill-fated roller-skating party. But, as with his job prospects, nothing seemed to stick. Maybe Michael was just meant to be alone. However, his hormones wouldn’t accept that. Michael never had any luck with girls back in Oklahoma, and Wichita proved to be no different. He asked out almost every girl at church, and they all said no—all except one: Anna Gosvener. She’d just turned sixteen and probably didn’t know any better when she agreed to accompany Michael to a church barbecue. However, Anna didn’t take a shine to Michael. She rebuffed his advances every time he made a move. And he made many moves. Anna finally had enough and broke up with Michael, returning the class ring he’d given her only weeks earlier. It was supposed to be a sign that they were going steady. Now it was a sign that things were over. When Michael found out that Anna had moved on to another guy, he stormed over to her house and barged in without knocking. Perhaps he pleaded with her to take him back. Or it very well could have been that Michael threatened her with violence. When Anna finally demanded that he leave, Michael slammed the door and punched the hood of his car before tearing off, wheels screeching.

    For days, Michael stewed over his lost love. By some accounts, he fantasized about raping Anna. By others, he became obsessed with stag films, frequenting Wichita’s X-rated movie theaters instead of going to church like the good Baptist boy he claimed to be. Regardless of how Michael spent his time, one thing was sure: He harbored violent thoughts. Thoughts of sex. Thoughts of rejection. Thoughts of rage that boiled over into reality.

    Around 1:30 p.m. on August 11, 1976, Michael loaded his two rifles, then removed the screen from the Huttons’ basement window and slid the rifles out to avoid them being seen by the family. Then, Michael snuck outside, loaded the guns into his car, and went to purchase even more ammunition. On the way to David’s Department Store, he spotted an attractive, older woman hitchhiking on Douglas Avenue. Was there a glimmer of hope for the lovelorn young man? Someone to distract him from the violence on his mind? Michael pulled over and offered the woman a ride, which she accepted. Perhaps because she noticed Michael’s attraction to her, the woman suggested they buy some beer and cruise around.

    Michael drove four blocks east to the Safeway at Douglas and Hillside. There, the twosome purchased a six-pack of Coors pony bottles and a packet of cigarettes. Then Michael drove the woman east on Douglas as they smoked and drank beer, perhaps listening to a song such as Dr. Hook’s “Only Sixteen” on KICT-FM (the band was due to play at Wichita’s Century II Convention Center in just a few days). After driving around for probably a few more songs, the woman asked Michael to drop her off at work—a dive restaurant called Bill’s Le Gourmet. Michael parked in a lot next to the restaurant and turned off the car’s ignition. Then he made a (most likely clumsy) move. However, the married woman rebuffed his advances, perhaps pointing to her wedding ring to stop Michael. “It doesn’t matter to me,” he said. Maybe the older woman laughed. Maybe she called him cute. She might have even pecked him on the cheek before exiting the vehicle.

    Imagine Michael reacting as he had with Anna: Feeling embarrassed, frustrated, and patronized, Michael wanted the last word. So, he put the car in first, throttled the engine, popped the clutch, and mashed the brake pedal. This would have resulted in a sloppy little burnout, damaging his vehicle as much as his pride. Having made his statement, the young man would then have continued on to his original destination: David’s Department Store.

    Michael may have fidgeted impatiently at the sporting goods counter, rapping his knuckles on the glass as the clerk behind the counter fastidiously stacked five boxes of .30-30 cartridges and seven boxes of .22-cal cartridges into a paper sack. The clerk might have made small talk with a distracted Michael:

    “A little early for deer,” the clerk said. “Hunting teal?”

    Michael avoided eye contact with the clerk. “Target practice.”

    After buying the ammunition, Michael drove one last time to Anna’s house, cruising by without stopping. Then, he drove straight to the tallest building in Wichita: the downtown Holiday Inn.