Just about a year ago, thinking about all of the many hotels that used to populate Downtown Milwaukee, I wrote a bit about the history of the Auditorium Hotel, which stood for nearly a century at 1123-25 N. 4th St. before it was demolished in 1965.

Yesterday, I received an email from Lisa Sheridan, a Milwaukee native who has lived in L.A. for four decades, working as a screenwriter and author, talking about her father Sam Feldmann:

"My father owned this hotel (but leased the land) from sometime in the early 1950s until he sold it around 1962."

Sheridan said her dad (the two are seen together in the photo below) spent many hours tending to the hotel.

"He worked very hard to keep it clean, painted and running well. I remember he had an old Polish workman named Mr. Popilier who helped him with carpentry. He worked six days a week, 12 hour days, and when he came home on Saturday nights, I was in my PJs staying up only to say good night after he brought home chocolate from Walgreen's (Hershey's Semi-Sweet) and we watched Perry Como sing ‘Catch a Falling Star’ together, a favorite song of mine undoubtedly due to this memory.

"Sometimes on Sundays we'd go out to dinner, and Dad would stop by the Auditorium Hotel to check up on things. My mother never let me accompany him, unlike my older brother."

Sheridan also recounted the story of a man she called her dad’s most famous visitor, who arrived in 1961.

"He came home and told my mother at supper time that the FBI had visited him there," Sheridan said. "It seemed, he explained, they were tailing a certain guest who had been staying there in the company of several associates. Turns out, he was Malcolm X. My father asked the agent what danger the man posed; what was his prior crime? ‘Nothing yet,’ the agent said. ’Then why are you following him?’ (my dad asked). ’Because we need to make sure he doesn't do anything.

"My dad had served in the Special Forces in WWII and did not like that answer. He believed every man had the right to live in peace and to earn a living right beside him, regardless of race or religion. He was very agitated at this FBI agent and his directive and saw it as racially motivated harassment by the government. ‘The man was very polite, friendly, very respectable, and posed no threat whatsoever. He was going about his business,’ my dad protested."

Though another famous American didn’t apparently stay at the Auditorium, Sheridan remembered her dad talking about him...

"One day in spring of 1960, he exited Walgreen's to see a small crowd of businessmen gathering to listen to an impromptu campaign speech by a young senator named John Kennedy who wanted their votes in the upcoming Wisconsin primary. My parents both loved Adlai Stevenson, but after finding himself standing right next to Sen. Kennedy, he became mesmerized by his presentation of ideas, his political knowledge, but mostly his charismatic and engaging personality. He came home and told my mother they were switching to JFK and that he was ‘going to win hands down.’"

Most of the inhabitants of the hotel, however, were not destined for fame, or in most cases, wealth, Sheridan said.

"Because it was a residential hotel – folks stayed for a week or so, and shared a common bathroom and dining room – it drew lower income individuals. My dad never had any problems until the final year, when it began to mirror the changing demographics of the area, and prostitutes, drug addicts and alcoholics became frequent inhabitants."

By 1962, the value of the hotel and its business had tumbled and, Sheridan said, her dad – who led a workingman’s life, content to eat a hot dog and drink a glass of milk at the Walgreen’s counter for lunch – lost pretty much everything he’d invested in it.

"The land was later sold to the Journal Company, who razed it for a parking lot," she wrote. "My father spent his last years working as a machinist for Helwig Corp., proud of his AFL-CIO membership, saying the union saved our family. ‘They put food on the table,’ he'd say, and he was indebted to them for hiring him in his 50s, when most men were thinking about retirement.

"He died suddenly of a massive coronary in 1984," Sheridan said. "He was always proud of how hard he had worked on that hotel, and it always held fond memories for him."