Can anyone from Wichita Falls area confirm this?
Dubbed the “world’s tiniest skyscraper”.
The building itself is structurally sound—that’s not the flaw. In fact, it has stood for over a century. But the devil is in the details.
This building was constructed by J.D. McMahon—a man as morally crooked as his creation. Yet, he was a fascinating character.
In 1919, McMahon swindled the residents of Wichita Falls out of $200,000 (equivalent to $4 million today) through a simple but clever scam.
At the time, Wichita County, Texas, was experiencing a petroleum boom. As new residents flocked to the area, Wichita Falls became an economic hub, and demand for office space skyrocketed. McMahon, who owned an oil construction company operating in one of the town’s buildings, proposed an addition on the vacant lot next door to meet this need.
His vision? A grand skyscraper—a monument befitting the booming city. The idea was met with enthusiasm, and eager investors quickly handed over $200,000 to fund the project. McMahon, of course, used his own construction company to build it.
But when the "skyscraper" was completed, investors were stunned to see it stood a mere four stories tall—just 40 feet high, 12 feet long, and 9 feet wide. To add insult to injury, the elevator company McMahon had hired backed out, leaving only an external ladder to access the top floor. A narrow staircase was later added, but it consumed nearly 25% of the building’s interior space due to the structure’s absurdly cramped dimensions.
Outraged, the investors tried to sue McMahon—until they realized the fine print. His blueprints had specified a height of 480 inches (40 feet), not 480 feet. They had overlooked the details before signing, leaving them with no legal recourse.
Shortly after construction wrapped up, McMahon vanished—presumably with most of the $200,000—and was never heard from again. The town was left with the embarrassing Newby-McMahon Building, which changed hands multiple times over the years.
Today, it houses an antique store and an artist’s studio. Despite its dubious origins, the building has been designated a Texas Historic Landmark, added to the National Register of Historic Places, and remains a quirky fixture in Wichita Falls’ Depot Square Historic District.