Montgomery County
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Andy Taylor, the Editor of the Montgomery County Chronicle (published weekly in Caney and Cherryvale), has been kind enough to share with us some of his writings. I think you will enjoy them. No matter what aspect of Montgomery County history you are interested in, you will find some good information here.
In Cherryvale, several trains a day continue to lumber along the tiring rails in the middle of Cherryvale, passing a restored depot still showing off its brick granduer. For those diesel locomotives and large grain hoppers - used and reused by several railroad companies, some even extinct - carry on a legacy that spurned the creation of Cherryvale 125 years ago.
No other single factor was responsible for Cherryvale's creation and ultimate early-day success than the railroad. It all began in 1871 when the Lawrence, Leavenworth and Gulf Railroad platted the city on land owned by a Joseph Wise. Because the L.L. and G. was one of only three railroads going from the northern Kansas cities to the Indian Territory border, a tremendous demand existed for creating railroad communities that would fortify the financial interests of the railroad companies. However, towns like Parsons, which served the bigger and more powerful Katy Railroad, overshadowed tiny Cherryvale, and the community would be a mere railroad stop for a town of 250 residents. The railroad would stretch as far south as Coffeyville and extend northward to a town called New Chicago, now Chanute, another prominent railroad community.
The Lawrence, Leavenworth and Gulf Railroad would reorganize and become the Kansas City, Lawrence and Southern Kansas Railroad in 1879 and later the Southern Kansas Railway in 1885. Trackage later pushed through Independence on westward toward Winfield and Wellington.
Cherryvale would experience growing pains in those early years, especially in 1873 when a major fire destroyed much of the wooden-frame downtown area surrounding the L.L and G. railroad. But the entrepreneurial tenacity of several local merchants rebuilt Cherryvale - this time with bricks and mortar.
So powerful was the pull of the railroad in those early-days that towns literally died overnight if the railroad missed communities even by one mile. Not so in Cherryvale. The town would only get bigger as the railroads became more enhanced.
Cherryvale
was found to be at the right place for the St. Louis and San Francisco Railway,
dubbed the Frisco Railway, in 1879 when the company built a track from Oswego to
Wichita. And, in 1880, a narrow-gauge railroad called the Memphis, Kansas and
Colorado was constructed from Parsons to Cherryvale. So, within nine years,
Cherryvale would be home to three railroads with trains coming from six
directions. And, the population grew from a small 250 to more than 1,000.
That narrow-gauge railroad quickly found it couldn't compete with
standard-gauge railroads, so the company rebuilt its tracks and sold to the
Kansas City, Fort Scott and Gulf, also called the Gulf Railroad. In 1901, the
Gulf was purchased by the Frisco.
The Frisco would maintain a presence in Cherryvale until 1980 when the company sold to Burlington Northern. That track, which rests on the original Frisco roadbed, is the only east-west railroad in southeast Kansas.
The Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe would establish its familiar emblem in Cherryvale in the 1880s when it would take over the often-changing Southern Kansas Railway Company. The company also would build housing for section track maintenance workers and a two-stalled engine roadhouse on South Depot Street.
From a bird's-eye view, Cherryvale railroads looked like crooked spider legs, spewing iron legs in all directions. Cherryvale would find one more set of legs in about 1910 when the Union Electric Traction Company erected an interurban trolley line from Cherryvale to Parsons and later from Cherryvale to Independence. That interurban system would be the staple of short-run transportation for local residents for several decades as the entire system went from Parsons through Cherryvale, Independence, Jefferson, Dearing, Coffeyville and ending in Nowata, Okla.
The interurban would be a frequent site each along Cherryvale's Main Street, and one trolley would spend the night each night at the Union Traction office and depot, which still stands in Cherryvale: the small brick building north of Tri-City Wholesale at Fourth and Depot streets. With the advent of automobiles and speed of other technologies, the interurban no longer had a practical purpose, and the trolley system would cease in the 1940s.
The same would be true for the main railroads. As automobile transportation and highway expansions increased, the need for passenger trains would slowly end. Eventually, train companies cut back the number of trains through Cherryvale. When the U.S. Postal Service stopped using railroads as a way to distribute mail, it basically meant a quick and painful death to many railroads. In Cherryvale, the Santa Fe ceased passenger train service in 1970. The company also would streamline its freight operations and maintenance crews, and the frequent diesel locomotive engine sound would lose its familiar echoes in the community.
Enter the role of short-line railroads. In 1990, Santa Fe sold its tracks to South Kansas and Oklahoma Railroad, now based in Pittsburg, Kan. The company runs a short-line railroad from Humboldt-Iola area to Bartlesville. SKO has a sister company, Southeast Kansas Railroad, which runs from Pittsburg to Coffeyville.
The SEK and SKO railroads have another sister railroad, the Kansas Eastern Railroad, which runs from Sherwin, Kan., to Fredonia, Kan. Cherryvale is a central dropoff point for the KER.
Short-line railroads like SKO salvaged the railroad industry, which underwent major deregulations in the 1970s and '80s. To cut costs, railroad companies were notorious about removing aging depots in various communities, often without a minute's notice. Few railroads maintained their own tracks as railroad investors knew that use of iron rails would be non-existent in coming year. So, the tracks remained to the ages and its elements.
Depots were a vital part of town's early-day growth
Although Cherryvale's railroad service today is not as prominent and extensive as Cherryvale's glory railroad days, the community continues to see daily railroad traffic, muscling 25 years of service.
Santa Fe would build a wood-framed depot on Depot Street near Fourth and Fifth streets before the turn of the century. However, that depot, which served both freight and passengers, would quickly outgrow its use, and the company built the stately brick structure at Third and Depot streets in 1910.
However, the Santa and Frisco railroads would actually share depot quarters for a short time. Both companies would use the Frisco depot from the time of that depot's construction in 1907 until 1910. That Frisco depot was constructed with two wings, one facing the east-west Frisco track; the other wing facing the north-south Santa Fe track.
During the early-days of passenger train service, workers from Cherryvale's hotels would line the brick platforms of the city's two depots, asking passengers for baggage bound for those hotels.
The Cherryvale Globe Torch on July 29, 1886 described the events that occurred when a passenger train arrived. Quoting the Globe Torch, "If you want about ten minutes of good fun, just go to the depot, upon the arrival of the passenger trains. The check boys and hotel runners form in line on the platform and as each passenger emerges from the coach, they open their bazos: 'Free bus to the Handley Hotel' or 'Leland Hotel just opposite the S.K. depot' or 'Baggage checked, want yer baggag checked?' or 'Indian House on the corner' or "Cottage House a dollar a day house' or 'Cherryvale House only one dollar', etc. There are about thirteen of them, and you can bet they toe a certain line of the platform. The one having the longest arms generally gets them."
How many trains came through Cherryvale a day?
"There are very few people in Cherryvale, or outside, who realize the importance of Cherryvale as a railroad center. We find, upon research, that every day 28 passenger trains leave the depots of this city, and 18 mail trains, added together give a total of 46 passenger and mail trains daily. We found it impossible to get the exact number of freight trains that arrive daily, for, with extras, they vary from day to day. As far as information can be obtained, we find it safe to put the figure at an average of 75 a day." - A Word About Cherryvale: The Natural Gas and Railroad Center of Kansas Cherryvale Commercial Club, 1900.
Paper railroads failed to deliver their high hopes
The early-days of railroads in the region often were filled with gutsy businessmen ready to sink their fortunes into rail transportation. However, those efforts often were futile as local businessmen were unable to accumulate the financial drive and prestige of many of the "robber barrons" of the region's earliest days.
In Cherryvale, the hopes of connecting the community with growing cattle markets in Oklahoma kept optimism alive in the 1890s. The railroad that would put Cherryvale on the locomotive map was called the Kansas, Oklahoma Central and Southwestern Railway. Cherryvale, which was planned to be home of the railway's headquarters, would be the terminus of the railroad with the rail line ending in Vernon, Texas. One of the main towns it would be pass was Guthrie, Oklahoma, which, in 1899, was the center of attention in Indian Territory. A quartet of regional entrepreneurs poured money into the planned railways, spending much of their time developing the enterprise. Those four people and the offices in the railway company were Jacob Bartles of Bartlesville (and Bartlesville's namesake), president; Samuel Porter of Caney, general attorney; P.S. Hollingsworth of Independence, cashier; and Dr. Frozier of Coffeyville, secretary. Porter and Bartles maintained healthy interests in industries between Bartlesville and Caney, and Porter made a trip to Europe to secure financing for the railway venture. Such hope rested with this venture that the City of Cherryvale voted to spend $20,000 to help with the construction of the terminal facilities in the city. The entire operation was capitalized for $7 million, a hefty sum for 1898 in dusty southeast Kansas. Even the local press hyped up the railway venture, boasting that Cherryvale would be linked to the east coast via the Kansas, Oklahoma Central and Southern Railway. The Cherryvale Evening Clarion in 1899 said, "It will open up virgin territory, leaving the Kansas state line at Caney, passing through Bartlesville, I.T., to Guthrie, O.T. In Texas, a rich section not as yet well settled will be opened up to enterprise.
There are but few large towns along the route, but in he western country, the railroad precedes the town... "In all probability much California through passenger traffic will be diverted to this road, as connections with the Southern Pacific will undoubtedly be made." Already in 1899, Cherryvale had 28 trains a day leaving in six directions. To add one more major railroad would make the community one of the biggest rail centers in the Midwest, and eventually the Southwest. "Cherryvale is proud of its railroads, and assures prospective manufacturers that as good or better advantages in respect to freight rates in all directions can be and are secured here as at any place in the United States," the Evening Clarion continued. "It is because of these conditions our people make the just claim that the markets for finished products, the raw materials of industry, and cheap fuel are brought as nearly together as it is possible to find them anywhere else."
Unfortunately, for the foursome of eager businessmen, the railway would flop. The vastly expanding Santa Fe Railway beat the quartet at its own game and set up tracks through western Oklahoma and Texas. Porter would once again try to establish a southwestern railway with Cherryvale as the northern terminus. In 1902, he established the Cherryvale, Oklahoma and Texas Railway on paper only. The railroad would run from Cherryvale to El Paso, Texas. The idea never left The Kansas, Oklahoma Central and Southern Railway and the Cherryvale, Oklahoma and Texas Railway were two of numerous "paper railroads" formed in the 1890s and early 1900s. However, those paper railroads reaped much excitement but succumbed to the bigger barrons of railroading who controlled the industry's destiny.
Montgomery County, Kansas was a long ways from the major battles of the Civil War. However, the horrific battles that divided the nation more than 130 years ago once pierced the county's soil. It was called the Rebel Creek Massacre, and it occurred on May 15, 1863 along the rocky banks of Rebel Creek, northeast of Independence.
According to accounts of the massacre, a band of 18 Confederate soldiers were dispatched from Jasper County, Mo., to make an expedition across southern Kansas and eventually into Colorado and New Mexico territories. The expedition had two objectives: to recruit men from the westward prairies to join the Confederate Army and to incite the western Indians against the Kansas settlers, a majority of whom held free state or anti-slavery views. When the Confederate band reached the Verdigris River northeast of Independence, they were stalled by a heavy thunderstorm that kept them from crossing the river. A band of Osage Indians on a mission to round up some lost ponies noticed the Confederate camp and approached the troops. The Confederates said they were Union troops and were en route to Humboldt, Kan., which was the location of a federal land office. However, the Osage were friends with the Union soldiers stationed at Humboldt and knew that the soldiers claiming to be Union soldiers weren't who they claimed. According to an account about the incident written in "Surely It Floweth With Milk and Honey" by county historian Paul F. Harper, the Osage asked the soldiers to follow them to Humboldt where their alleged identity could be verified. However, the troops resisted. That's when the county earth flowed with the blood of hostility. While the Osages were attempting to round up the soldiers, one Osage was shot dead. The Osage scouts were out manned, so they sped to their village not far away and told their fellow tribesmen of the incident.
The Osages quickly rounded up 200 tribesmen and began a quick pursuit of the Confederate murderers, who by then were nearing Rebel Creek. When the Osage came upon the small Confederate force, the soldiers tried to fire their antiquated muskets but were thwarted by the deep humidity that set inside the gun barrels from the thunderstorm. Several whites were killed and two Indians were slain. The soldiers mustered enough strength to retreat to near a thicket of woods near Rebel Creek. However, the Osage were keeping the Confederates' trail hot and eventually forced the soldiers into Rebel Creek near the confluence of the Verdigris. Because the Confederates had no ammunition, they fought hand to hand with the Osage. But battling with hands would prove to be a deadly futility to the Confederates. In the end, 16 of the 18 soldiers were dead. Only two Osage had died.
When news of the massacre reached the Union soldiers at Humboldt, the Union troops followed the Osage warriors to the scene of the battle and to the Osage village. Harper writes in the book that the bodies of the two dead Osage men were brought back to the Osage village and placed in a sitting position up against a tree. In front of each body was an Indian woman, lying prostrate and uttering a mournful wail that echoed throughout the valley, "a cry which once heard, could never be forgotten," Harper wrote. The Union troops then followed the Osage tribesmen to the site of the first encounter, where one Osage was shot in cold blood. Later, they followed the trail and found the nude bodies of four Confederate soldiers, each badly mutilated, decomposed and scalped. Even the long beards that hung from the faces of the Confederates were scalped from their faces and hung as trophies in the nearby Osage village. And, as was the Osage custom, the scalped heads were totally severed from the bodies.
Later, the soldiers found more bodies, all decomposed and mutilated beyond recognition. The troops quickly dug a deep trench in the ground and dragged the tattered bodies to their final grave. "The soldiers had sponges containing assafetida tied over their faces, but in spite of that, it was impossible to stay at the gruesome task for more than a few minutes at a time," Harper wrote. Many Confederate belongings were found in the Osage possession. When Union officers asked for the papers that were on the Confederate bodies, the Osage first gave the papers to Big Hill Joe, an Indian chief who was educated at Osage Mission. The papers revealed the dead troops were, in fact, Confederates; one attained the office of colonel. Other information revealed the goals of the expedition, including inciting Indians to battle Kansas' pioneers.
Only one person from that Confederate expedition was able to live through the incident. Col. Warner Lewis wrote in 1911 about his remembrances of the incident and how settlers in the area were able to conceal him from Indians by hiding him in thick brush. The settlers nursed Lewis' wounds and sores and fed him until he was able to reach his post in Missouri.
Another survivor of the massacre, John Rafferty, was with Lewis in the retreat but was later killed. All told, 20 people were killed in the Rebel Creek Massacre, a far number from the hundreds of thousands who died in infamous battles like Shiloh or Gettysburg. However, the savage death that occurred on that rain-filled night in 1863 still has left a bloody mark in the annals of county history.
Standing on what was
once a strong base, the crumbling foundation of a building hides under its bulky
weed and ivy coat, lying quiet for all eternity. Once a family home or maybe
even a business, the weathered brick and dusty mortar remnants continue to
disentegrate at a rapid pace, leaving the last known traces of the town which
stood there to fall deeper into the earth along with its secrets and memories.
Although some former towns have vanished from the Kansas prairies they
called home, with a little luck and a discernible eye, residents may still be
able to see some of the last few visible signs of area ghost towns. While Kansas
is lucky enough to have a number of ghost towns found all across the state, a
trip to the flatlands or the Flint Hills is not necessary to find one. In fact,
a number of towns are right in Montgomery County's backyard. Looking back over
history, it's sometimes difficult to find out exactly why a town may have died
and subsequently vanished. However, in author Daniel Fitzgerald's series, "Ghost
Towns of Kansas," he explains there were mainly five reasons why towns either
flourished or floundered in early Kansas. For instance, Fitzgerald said towns
usually died because they did not have a solid economic base; failed to become
the county seat; missed the railroad; or were forced out by indebtedness. He
added towns also boomed and later died because they were in his words, "founded
to exploit the gullible."
In Montgomery County, history shows ghost towns such as LeHunt, located northwest of Independence, typically failed for economic or business reasons. While trees and weeds try to choke out where the town's cement plant, the United Kansas Portland Cement Company, once stood, the walls, ovens and giant smokestack of the factory are still remarkably intact. With the aid of a sturdy vehicle, visitors make their way down the rutty, dirt paths to explore local history. However, there are other ghost towns with names such as White Post, Novelty, Forest Grove and Ives which have literally vanished in time with little or no record of their existence. For example, Montgomery County had a post office named Grass which operated from 1880-1886 and even one named Snow Creek. But no further information can be found on either post office districts. While these towns may be lost to history, the stories of other Montgomery County ghost towns have been recovered to be shared with others.
From Votaw to St. Paul, each town has a distinctive history which may not be too well-known. Located near the Verdigris River north of Coffeyville, a small African-American community stood strong and flourished for a short time. According to the Montgomery County History Book, the town of Votaw was founded in 1881 after an agent who was distributing goods to needy African-Americans purchased 160 acres of land near the river. After establishing the town, the agent, Daniel Votaw, gave residents, who were newly-emancipated slaves, between five to 10 years to pay back the land without interest. Although the town continued to operate on its own for several years, a massive flood in 1895 coupled with other problems forced its eventual downfall. At the turn of the century, Votaw no longer existed since residents left behind the community for better opportunities in the nearby city of Coffeyville.
During the 1870s, another small town in Sycamore Township called Crane was just beginning to get its footing. Named after its founder, Horace Crane, this town was unique, according to historians, because its founding father had to purchase settlement rights and protection from the Osage Indians. Crane was later formally established on the southern portion of the Santa Fe Railroad about five miles northwest of Independence. Although the town thrived and later consisted of a railway station, feedlot, stock farm, a school and post office, it later folded with no historical explanation. The Montgomery County History Book noted the school district operated from Feb. 24, 1872 to Dec. 4, 1946, while the post office ran from July 30, 1879, to Oct. 31, 1905. However, historians have never quite pointed out what caused the small town to die.
Closer to Cherryvale, towns such as Corbin City and Morgantown were successful in their day, but an unknown turn of events eventually forced the downfall of both towns. In 1899, a man named C. J. Corbin incorporated the small town where a new company called the Lotterer Brick Plant was being built. According to historians, the Coffeyville Vitrified Brick and Tile Company later purchased the plant and employed about 250 workers. As the town developed, the Montgomery County History Book notes a railroad crossed the town's west side and led to the brickyard. Houses were later built during the early 1900s, while several businesses ranging from a blacksmith shop to grocery stores began opening their doors at about the same time. Although the nearby brick company fueled the town's success, it also propelled it toward failure. As bricks became less popular with the development of concrete coupled with Depression woes, the plant began a phase out process in the 1930s. Businesses and residents soon followed, with many of their homes being moved or torn down.
Another town in the Cherryvale area, Morgantown, which is located east of Independence in Drum Creek Township, has a unique history as well. This ghost town, which was founded by the Morgan Brothers, apparently got its start in February 1870 when Charles Morgan was named postmaster. In addition to founding the community, the Morgans also established a general store and a blacksmith shop for residents. Morgantown or Morgan City was officialy cited as a village in 1872, while it was later incorporated into a third class city in 1880. With the railroad crossing and a road from Parsons being located nearby, historians said the town had several advantages which rivaled other county towns. However, with all its advantages, the town later died. Morgantown's old school still stands, but was later renovated into a house. Historians say the town was set to the right of the school building.
In the southwest portion of the county, a ghost town by the name of Ennisville can no longer been seen, but is instead just a memory to those who once visited the site. In 1870, a man from Arkansas named Ennis established the fledgling town with the construction of a general store on the bank of the Caney River. The store was built near the only ford for several miles, Ruby Cranor, author of the book, "Caney Valley Ghost Towns and Settlements," says so all wagons and vehicles stopped at the site. Within the next few years, a saw mill was later started, pushing the town's population to nearly 400 residents. However, after questions surrounding whether the town was truly located in Indian Territory surfaced, officials later surveyed the land and found the town was indeed south of the border. Both goverment troops and Indian police later forced residents to leave their homes. Cranor says many of Ennisville structures were made of black walnut logs and had to be moved across state lines by oxen. According to Cranor, the town now lies below the waters of Copan Lake.
While only a few ghost towns today merely consist of a pile of bricks or a crumbled foundation and others exist only in memories and historical books, these towns represent a piece of history - a history which makes up the distinctiveness of Montgomery County.
The wind first whistles, then moans terribly as it begins to rattle the windows of the house. It's a chilly evening in late-October, just a few days away from Halloween, but you're not frightened as you curl up on the couch - alone. The lights begin to flicker, but you reassure yourself by believing it's probably just the wind swaying the powerlines back and forth. Gripping the quilt tighter and pulling it up to your neck, you swear you just heard a bump and then later, a crash coming from, of all places, the damp, dark basement. Grabbing the heaviest object within arm's reach, you quietly tip toe through the kitchen and open a door leading down the steps to the basement. After flipping the light switch, you quietly start down the staircase which creaks with every step you take. Spotting nothing, you continue your descent down the steps until you reach the basement floor. "Phew," you say with a sigh of relief as you find nothing. But just when your hand reaches out to grab the handrail to go back upstairs, a hand reaches out and grabs you from behind.
Although the scenario sounds something reminiscent of an old horror movie, it's one of those typical, scary stories which conjure up the memories and tales associated with the most frightening day of the year - Halloween. Stashed away all year in the back of the mind, those intricate yarns of hauntings and bizarre incidents are dusted off and spun once more. While they all are designed to give the heart and imagination a jolt, they are also told to be passed on to the next generation. However, while the typical Halloween stories are just that - typical, this year may be the time to tell new tales to family and friends. But these aren't just any stories, but some of the area's not-so-known legends.
One story, which reportedly took place in Liberty Township decades ago, is the story of a young Indian maiden whose life ended tragically. According to legend, the young maiden had been involved in a terrible quarrel with her lover which left her hopeless and in tears. Knowing there was a large rock formation located near the tribe's camp, the maiden climbed up the steep rocks and after reaching the highest point, jumped to her death. To this day, the site is still regarded as "Lover's Leap." On a calm, October evening, visitors to the site may still be able to hear her lonely cries as she searches to find her lost love.
Another tale which has stood the test of time and has been witnessed by many is the story of the spook lights on Hoot Owl Pass near Coffeyville. Hoot Owl Pass is located just off of Olive Street Road, approximately 3 1/2 miles east of Coffeyville. The actual road is closed to traffic because the county condemned and later removed the road's bridge in 1987. The late Marcie Young, who lived near Hoot Owl Pass for more than 40 years, often told the story how she always remembered seeing heavy traffic on the road near her farm. At first she thought it was because the road was a quick shortcut to Edna, but later learned it was because of the spook lights which appeared nightly. Although Young believed the bright lights were created by the headlights of vehicles traveling along Highway 166, she said she also heard others say the lights appeared from a combination of moolight and vapors emitted from oil tapping pipes. The spook lights can still be seen today by heading north out of Coffeyville on Highway 169 and turning east onto Olive Street Road. The best time to see the lights is in late fall and during the winter months.
Another old story dating back to the early days of LeHunt still sends a shiver down the spine each time it is told. During the early 1900s, LeHunt was home to two cement companies, the Kansas Portland Cement Company in 1906 and the Western States Portland Cement Company in 1918. While the cement kilns and large, 155-foot tall smokestack still stand today, another reminder and legend is tucked away among the vines and rubble. According to legend, one day a plant employee was hard at work when he was buried alive in cement. Since the incident happened so quickly, no one could save him in time. By the time help arrived, only a pick, shovel and wheelbarrow could be seen. Today, the man's tools can still be seen sticking out of the wall he was working on at the time of his death. Residents say the man can still be heard trying the chip his way out of the cement with his pick.
Like the old-time steam engines laboriously chugging down iron rails, Caney, Kansas was never on time. Look at your pocket watch, and you'll see Caney about 15 years late. And because of the community's late entrance into the industry that was so overwhelmingly responsible for town growth, Caney never quite got a leg up on its sister cities. For example... Cherryvale and Coffeyville got the railroads in 1871 and immediately boomed. Caney didn't know what a train engine looked like until 15 years later.
Coffeyville became a division headquarters for a major railroad company. Caney got only a water tank. Towns that did not get a railroad cutting through its Main Street either folded or withered away quickly. Caney stuck out its non-train-ness for 15 dusty years. Coffeyville, Independence, Cherryvale, Nowata and Parsons all had interurban trolley tracks. Caney never had such short-line luxury.
While the Santa Fe, Katy and Frisco were frequent symbols of railroading in other towns, Caney lived on the hopes of such non-existent companies like the Kansas, Oklahoma Central and Southwestern Railway. This was Caney, which, by its location in the southwest part of Montgomery County, was unable to clamor for that railroad notoriety that made or broke towns in the 1870s. Instead, the town patiently waited for railroads to come through community - 110 years ago. The first railroad to reach Caney was in 1886, and it was a subsidiary of the Missouri Pacific called the Denver, Memphis and Atlantic Railroad. It was one of train magnate Jay Gould's vast railroad enterprise. The DMA only connected Chetopa to the Arkansas City-Wellington area, but the terminal points had connections to other points across the nation.
It was Caney's first glimpse of the railroad, and the tiny community was on its way to early-day boom while other cities in Montgomery County already were veterans at the railroad industry. "By the time Caney got its railroads, the community was a late comer," said John Chambers, a Parsons man who has extensively researched the histories of southeast Kansas railroads. Chamber said that one year after construction of the railroad through Caney, the DMA was taken over by the Missouri Pacific, and the company would have east-west rail traffic in Caney until the mid-1970s.
Caney didn't have an industrious need for that railroad, even though promoters and town boosters claimed in the early days that without a railroad, Caney would become a ghost town. Zinc smelters, gas wells, oil derricks, brick plants and glass manufacturers wouldn't make their presence known until the early 1900s. Once the railroad was established in Caney, the Missouri Pacific even had a tough time trying to convince downtown businessmen to use its tracks.
According to the "Unfolding of the Scroll," written for Caney's Centennial in 1971, the Missouri Pacific was building a spur line to go from the railroad's depot near on North Wood Street to Fourth Avenue. But for whatever reason, downtown business leaders protested it, even going to the construction site during the middle of a night and destroying much of the ties and rails. So how did Caney profit from the Missouri Pacific's early presence in the community? Cattle, and lots of them. Because of Caney's proximity to the lush Osage Hills, where bluestem grasses clashed with scrubby oaks, cattle herds were heading from the Oklahoma prairies to the nearest rail centers. Towns like Caldwell, Elgin, Coffeyville, Chetopa and Baxter Springs already were known in cattle trail circles because of the railroad establishment in those communities, but tiny Caney was a secondary cowtown from the mid-1880s until the late 1890s.
Ivan Pfalser, a Caney historian, wrote in a Chronicle article in 1993 that Caney's closer proximity to larger markets made the community a prime location for cattle shipments. Pfalser said Elgin was a prime location for the Osage-grass fed cattle, however Caney was closer to Kansas City, the big cattle market, and thereby provided lesser shipment costs to the cattle owners. On the south edge of Caney, cattle dipping vats were erected whereby cattle would be brought to the community, dipped in chemicals to kill disease-carrying tick and lice, and placed on cattle cars bound for feed lots in the north. The Missouri Pacific even built a spur track that went to the dipping vats south of Caney. That spur line would later be shared with the Santa Fe in later years.
Col. S.M. Porter, a Caney lawyer, had extensive cattle properties in the Caney area at that time. Seeing the potential to gain wealth in the train and cattle industry and to boost Caney's economic power, Porter began efforts in the mid-1890s to secure railroad right of way from Caney to the big Texas ranches. His endeavor would be called the Kansas, Oklahoma Central and Southwestern Railway, and Caney would be the headquarters. The railway would stretch from Cherryvale to Vernon, Texas and go through the community of Guthrie, O.T., which was the center of growth in the territory. Porter even made trips to Europe and the East Coast to secure financing for the highly capitalized railway, and by 1903, the Knickerbocker Trust Company in New York had signed its name to finance the railway. However, plans fell flat as the cattle ranches in Texas built railroads to the Gulf Coast. And, more importantly, Porter's "paper railroad," so named because it existed solely on legal forms and bank documents, would be over shadowed by the grand daddy of all railroads - the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe.
By 1903, it was obvious that Santa Fe would extend its long arms from Kansas and into Oklahoma. The railroad already had a line from the Kansas City area to Cedar Vale, via Sedan, Havana, Independence, Cherryvale, Chanute and points north. Why didn't the Santa Fe build a line to the Indian Territory border in the 1880s and '90s. Chambers said there wasn't anything in Indian Territory except for cattle worth pursuing. The great oil boom that made Oklahoma into a petroleum center didn't begin flourishing until the late 1900s and early '10s. However, that cattle industry in the territory was needing railroads, and Caney seemed to be a good place to put an extension into the lush tallgrass prairies of what would become Oklahoma.
In 1905, the Santa Fe extended its line from Caney to Owen Switch, just south of the state line, to Bartlesville. From Owen Switch, Santa Fe would build a line to Fairfax, Okla., strictly for cattle shipments. That line would remain in use until 1964. Porter even helped with getting the Santa Fe through Caney, but even with his entrepreneurial tact and monetary influence, the most the Santa Fe would do for Caney's railroad status was build a depot and water columns for the big steam engines. "Caney was too close to other towns to deserve a through-route destination," Chambers said. "Many other towns were division points for a railroad, but that's because they had exclusive locations. Caney was too close to Coffeyville, Cedar Vale, Independence to get a division headquarters. "Plus, Caney was too late to get maintenance buildings, a major rail yard, a signal tower, or whatever else." So, had Caney tried to get those railroads in the 1870s much like it did in the 1900s, Caney very well may had more for its railroad companies, Chambers said.
The Santa Fe would maintain a presence
in Caney until 1990s, and the Missouri Pacific would abandon its rails in 1977.
Both railroads had depots. The Santa Fe depot near Fifth and Foreman streets was
dismantled in the late 1970s without much notice; the Missouri Pacific depot on
North Wood Street would be moved to an area farm for use as a barn in 1982.
Today, the South, Kansas and Oklahoma Railroad uses the old Santa Fe lines to
move its cargo and freight from Tulsa to the Chanute-Humboldt area - more than
110 years after the town saw its first Iron Horse ride into the community.
Paper railroads failed to deliver their high hopes
The early-days of railroads in the region often were filled with gutsy businessmen ready to sink their fortunes into rail transportation. However, those efforts often were futile as local businessmen were unable to accumulate the financial drive and prestige of many of the "robber barrons" of the region's earliest days.
In Caney, the hopes of connecting the community with growing cattle markets in Oklahoma kept optimism alive in the 1890s. The railroad that would put Caney on the locomotive map was called the Kansas, Oklahoma Central and Southwestern Railway. Caney, which was planned to be home of the railway's headquarters, even contributed $10,000 to the endeavor to link Cherryvale with Vernon, Texas. One of the main towns the railway would be pass through was Guthrie, Oklahoma, which, in 1899, was the center of attention in Indian Territory.
A quartet of regional entrepreneurs poured money into the planned railways, spending much of their time developing the enterprise. Those four people and the offices in the railway company were Jacob Bartles of Bartlesville (and Bartlesville's namesake), president; Samuel Porter of Caney, general attorney; P.S. Hollingsworth of Independence, cashier; and Dr. Frozier of Coffeyville, secretary. Porter and Bartles maintained healthy interests in industries between Bartlesville and Caney, and Porter made a trip to Europe to secure financing for the railway venture. The entire operation was capitalized for $7 million, a hefty sum for 1898 in dusty southeast Kansas. Even the local press hyped up the railway venture, boasting that Caney would be linked to the east coast via the Kansas, Oklahoma Central and Southern Railway. The Cherryvale Evening Clarion in 1899 said, "It will open up virgin territory, leaving the Kansas state line at Caney, passing through Bartlesville, I.T., to Guthrie, O.T. In Texas, a rich section not as yet well settled will be opened up to enterprise. There are but few large towns along the route, but in he western country, the railroad precedes the town... "In all probability much California through passenger traffic will be diverted to this road, as connections with the Southern Pacific will undoubtedly be made."
Unfortunately, for the foursome of eager businessmen, the railway would flop. The vastly expanding Santa Fe Railway beat the quartet at its own game and set up tracks through western Oklahoma and Texas. Porter would once again try to establish a southwestern railway with Montgomery County as the northern terminus. In 1902, he established the Cherryvale, Oklahoma and Texas Railway on paper only. The railroad would run from Cherryvale to El Paso, Texas. The idea never left The Kansas, Oklahoma Central and Southern Railway and the Cherryvale, Oklahoma and Texas Railay were two of numerous "paper railroads" formed in the 1890s and early 1900s. However, those paper railroads reaped much excitement but succumbed to the bigger barrons of railroading who controlled the industry's destiny.
(Printed in the Cherryvale Chronicle and Caney Chronicle on Wednesday, September 13, 1995)
It started as an attempt by major railroad
companies to race toward the southern line of the new state of Kansas, an eager
advance that would bring wealth by connecting dusty cattle towns to major Kansas
cities. It included the very wrongs of underhanded political dealings - big
payoffs to politicians, influence peddling and egregious, racist lies on the
part of a highly partisan press. It ended up in the sad removal of the last
Indian tribe that called Montgomery County "home" - the Osage Indians. And, it
was everso apparent, even five years before the Drum Creek Treaty of 1870,
signed 125 years ago, that the fast progression of settlers into Kansas
territory would slowly force the Osages into smaller lands...all in the name of
Manifest Destiny. That treaty - inked under a shady oak tree at the Drum Creek
Agency southwest of Cherryvale - was one of the last treaties signed in Kansas,
and it also would mean that the state no longer would be an Indian Territory,
which it had been designated for several decades. Instead, the removal of the
Osages, due to the treaty, meant railroads and progress to the early-day prairie
settlers. It was those railroads, which bulled their iron way through common
decency, that were the inception of many of Montgomery County's communities.
Back in 1865, the State of Kansas was only four years old. Most of the
settlement in the state was in the northern and eastern parts, but the views of
"progress" would slowly sift southward. After all, few settlers had been
attracted to the weeds and cockleburs of southeast Kansas, which then comprised
the lands of the Osage Indians.
Those Osages were indigenous to the plains, having slowly evolved from the ancient Siouians who once roamed the prairies. But because of government removal of the Cherokees to Indian Territory, which once included the entire state of Kansas, the Osage lands would become smaller, more concentrated on the most extreme part of Kansas.
By 1865, settlement had extended south of the state's major cities: Topeka, Lawrence and Kansas City. By a treaty signed that year in Canville Trading Post in Neosho County, the Osages agreed to move their claims to a smaller portion of land in what would be Montgomery County. That land, called the Osage Diminished Reserve, would be a rectangle shape - a line south of Wilson County to north of the Kansas Cherokee Strip ( a small 2 1/2-mile wide piece of land extending north from the present Kansas- Oklahoma border), 2 3/4 miles west of Labette County to the Arkansas River. It was during the mid-1860s that the Osages were under great consternation from settlers, many of whom had just finished fighting in the Civil War. The Osages weren't considered a warrior tribe, but did don their fighting colors for just causes.
During the Civil War, 400 Osages joined Union forces, and 400 joined Confederate fighting bands. "it was rough for the Osages during that time," said Shawn Standing Bear, a museum curator at the Osage Tribal Capital in Pawhuska, Okla. "The Osages flew the colors that were convenient at the time. But to the extended settler, those colors didn't mean anything. They didn't know a friendly Osage from a Kiowa or Comanche. "They didn't know bluff paint from war paint." And, so many Indians fell to the hands of the early-day pioneers, fearful that the red skin was synonymous for cruel death. Hence, the white settlers thought, the need to move the tribe away from new settlements.
Laura Ingalls Wilder, famed author of many of the Little House on the Prairie novels, wrote about her family seeing many Osages at her family cabin in Rutland Township. The Ingalls were fearful of the Osages, even though the Indians had never inflicted harm upon the Ingalls family. Yet, the Osages weren't familiar with European-style ways, and the Indians freely went into settler homes, not knowing that their entrance wasn't considered decent. Not only were settlers wanting the Osages moved away, but the railroad companies, especially the Lawrence, Leavenworth and Gulf Railroad, was blazing a trail southward, trying to become the first railroad to reach the Kansas-Indian Territory border. Nothing would stand in the way of the Iron Horses, not even the lands that the federal government had deeded to the Osages.
The Drum Creek Treaty actually has its inception in June 1868 when the Osage agreed in a treaty signed at the Drum Creek Agency, which was at the confluence of Drum Creek and the Verdigris River, to sell 8.03 million acres to the federal government for $1.6 million. A detachment of the U.S. Seventh Calvary was even sent to Drum Creek to help with the treaty signing, which included several dozen Osage chiefs, councilors and subchiefs. But unknown to the Osages or to a majority of the settlers in the area, the treaty was controlled by William Sturgis, who had an interest in the Lawrence, Leavenworth and Gulf Railroad. Whether the railroad company had a blatant influence in the treaty remains unknown, however the railroad would receive the newly acquired Osage land from the federal government without opening it to agricultural settlement, as had been done in all prior treaties. That's where a political fight ensued more fierce than the clashes between white settler and Indian. When the 1868 Drum Creek Treaty eventually went to the nation's capital, a bitter fight was waged between the railroad company and the elected officials who wanted the lands opened to settlement. Settlers from the area protested vehemently that the treaty was a fraud, a way for the federal government to profit greatly without giving settlers a chance to gain their own sense of pride by tilling the virgin prairies.
Newspapers in the region, which had proudly touted the fertile lands in the Osage valleys, claimed the treaty smacked of influence peddling. "The treaty was a premeditated, thoroughly planned and successfully executed, fraud from its incipiency up to the stage of its submission to the United States Senate for ratification," wrote John S. Gilmore in A History of Montgomery County in 1903. "It was even more - a brazen steal, so extensive as to be infamous - and the officials, politicians and leading men who approved or aided and abetted in the attempt to carry it out deserved to be buried so deep under popular obloquy that they would never again publicly show their heads."
When the ratification of the treaty fell upon the shoulders of the U.S. Congress, it would be Kansas Senator Sidney Clarke who would raise the loudest voice, not in the name of the railroad but in the rights of the agrarian settlers. He insisted that the Osage lands be open for settlement instead of deeded to a railroad company. Saying that the sale of the Osage lands to the railroad was an unjustifiable abuse to the settlers, Clarke was able to get the treaty withdrawn from the senate in 1869, shortly after President Ulysses S. Grant had come to the presidency. In return, Clarke in July 1870 would offer an Indian appropriation bill, asking that the Osage Diminished Reserve be open to settlement at $1.25 per acre. Congress quickly ratified Clarke's Indian appropriation bill, and settlement immediately sprang up while the railroad continued its southward progression. President Grant, upon signing the bill, authorized the removal of the Osages to a new home in Indian Territory, now present-day Oklahoma. Clarke's bill was the predecessor to the Drum Creek Treaty of 1870.
Knowing that most of the Indian lands would be gobbled up by settlers, the federal government sent agents, interpreters and attorneys to the Drum Creek Agency in September 1870 to complete the final removal of the Osages from Kansas. Under the terms of the treaty, all of the remaining Diminished Reserve would be sold to the government for $1.25 per acre, and land in the Cherokee Outlet in Indian Territory would be set aside as an Indian nation for the Osages. The first signatures were affixed on the treaty at Drum Creek on Sept. 1, 1870, and it would take 10 days for all of the clan leaders and subchiefs to sign their names on the final treaty. Those major chieftains who signed the treaty were Big Hill Joe, Pina pusha-a, To wand go hee, No-pa-walla Chetopa, Strike Axe, Black Dog, Chin-Cu-a-cah, Wah tan Ca. Government representatives were John D. Long of Maine, John V. Farwell of Chicago, Ill., and Vincent Colyer of New York. Finally, on Sept. 10, 1870, the treaty was complete, and the Osage Indians made a long march, dubbed the Second Trail of Tears, by foot to their new home near Pawhuska. But the treaty did not mean the creation of Montgomery County. In fact, the county was established by law in June 1869, 15 months before the treaty was signed. Townships were formed, settlements that eventually into communities were open - all without the rightful ownership of the Osage lands. Not only did the Osages lose their right to the lands, but U.S. Senator Sidney Clarke was defeated in his Senate seat. After the railroad lost that rich prize in the 1868 treaty, the railroad investors teamed up in the fall elections of 1870 and had Clarke defeated in the U.S. Senate race.
Slowly, the Osages trekked to their new home - passing those camps and settlements that eventually would become Cherryvale, Caney, Independence, Coffeyville, Havana, Liberty and Jefferson. The Lawrence, Leavenworth and Gulf Railroad eventually hit the Kansas-Indian Territory border, although the Katy Railroad had beaten it to the punch. The LL&G laid iron rails in the eastern portion of Montgomery county, creating Cherryvale, Liberty and Coffeyville along its tracks. However, that final treaty that was thought to have ridded the government from the Osage would fall on its face. The new Osage lands in present-day Osage County, Oklahoma, had a tremendous pool of oil under its crust, and the mineral rights belong to each tribal member made the tribe one of the most wealthy in the United States. The development of oil in Osage County after the turn of the century prompted large petroleum developers like Harry Sinclair and Frank Phillips, to vigorously buy leases throughout the Osage region, and the money eventually fell upon the heirs of those Osages who signed their final treaty in Montgomery County 125 years ago.
To this day, only one Kansas Historical Marker, recently pulled from its foundation and removed to a county road east of Independence remind county residents of their connection to the Osage Indians, which once made their nation in Montgomery County. However, motorists going down the highway are unaware of the historical significance but cross the foot paths those Osages took to their new home - 125 years ago.
A letter
written by Isaac Gibson, the federal goverment's superintendent to the Osage
Nation,
written 1869-1870.
Respected Friend,
In making this my first annual report of affairs pertaining to Indian tribes within this agency, I will remark that the Great and Little Osages have been more particularly under my immediate care, and I deem it my duty to speak, not only of their present condition and prospects for the future, but refer to so much of their past history as specially relates to their condition at present.
The condition of the Osages upon their reservation the past year has been simply a continuance, in a more aggravated for, of that related by my predecessor in his monthly and annual reports to the Indian Department.
In the spring of 1867, he asked for the assistance of the military to remove the settlers that have intruded on the Osage diminished reserve, and otherwise enforce the laws for the protection of the Indians. In the following (October) he states, "Their horses are constantly being driven off by the white men. One Osage lost 23 head in June, which were seen driven through Topeka. Another lost 20 head on the night of the 5th of September; they were seen going through Humboldt, and that was the last I could hear of them.
Immigration is still crowding on their lands. They threaten me with Crawford's militia, and say they will hang me if I interfere with them. They seem determined to occupy the best of the Osage diminished reservation. By the time the Indians are in next spring all their camping grounds on the Verdigris River will be occupied by the whites. This should not be allowed by the Government, and I cannot check this settlement without a small armed force.
I quote from succeeding reports to June 1868: "The people on and near these lands are made to believe by speeches delivered by so-called leading men and newspaper articles that those Indians have no rights which should be respected by white men. They have had, to my certain knowledge, over 100 of their best horses stolen since the 1st of May last. I learn that scarcely a day passes that they do not lose from five to twenty horses. marshal Dickensian followed 20 of these stolen horses over 150 miles.
The Indians dare not follow their stock five miles into the white settlements; and those thieves have always managed to baffle the officers sent into pursuit, and not one of them have as yet been brought to justice, or one in a hundred of the Indians, horse returned to them."
In March, following, he states, "Men are taking claims, building houses and mills on the diminished reserve, which disturbs the peace of the Indians very much." He again asks, later in the spring, for military assistance, to remove the settlers and enforce the laws, and adds: "If this is not done, there will be much trouble, and the Indians will be driven from their homes.
"The settlers are preparing to
organize a county, entirely on the Indian lands, and they have applied to the
governor of the State for protection. I can do nothing in the matter without
instructions from the Government, which I will await with great anxiety." His
next and last report in June 1869 says: "More than 500 families have settled on
the eastern part of the Osage diminished reserve; they have built their cabins
near the Indian camps, taken possession of their cornfield, and death if they
persisted in claiming them. Others were made homeless by cunning and fraud."
While away on their winter hunt, cribs of corn, and other provisions, so
hardly earned by their women's toil, were robbed. Their principal village was
pillaged of a large amount of puncheons, and wagon loads of matting hauled away
and used by the settlers in building and finishing houses for themselves.
Even new made graves were plundered, with the view of finding treasures,
which the Indians often bury with their dead. To my surprise, the Indians
listened to my advice, and submitted to these wrongs, while the settlers often
quarreled among themselves over claims to which they had not a shadow of right,
ending their disputes frequently with loss of life. The question will suggest
itself, which of these peoples are the savages?
These cases were made pretexts for further and greater outrages. Bands of armed men would seize and carry off a much greater number of horses than they ever claimed to have lost, and generally persons innocent of all complicity with the matter were the victims.
That these Indians would submit to such treatment as this for years, without resorting to violence, seems incredible, but such is the fact. These aggressions and wrongs were largely committed before any steps were taken for the purchase of the Osage reservation. In evidence of this fact, I again refer to the report of my predecessor.
I encouraged the Indians to plant, as usual, this spring. They replied that it was useless; that if I did place them in possession of their fields as I proposed, the heads of cattle and other stock of the settlers would destroy their growing crops.
As their ponies
were being stolen in large numbers, they decided to preserve the balance of
their property, and peace with the Government, they would remove to the Indian
territory, permission to do having been generously given by the Cherokees.
* * * *
The eastern part of the reservation is now mostly surveyed and claimed in 160-acre lots, three counties duly organized and elections held. One county has voted $200,000 stock in a railroad; courts are held with all the ceremony of legal tribunals. The press of Kansas teems with vivid descriptions of "town sites" and the fertile valleys of the Osage country. Numbers have been thus led to believe that the lands were open to settlement.
Some who came with their families and stock withdrew when deceived. Such examples, however of respect for the laws of the United States, and the rights of others, were lamentable few. The error and mistakes of the past, if wisely used, may become profitable guides for the future.
Had the Government, at an early stage of these violations of laws and of the acknowledged rights of the Indians, which they themselves were not allowed to defend, extend the protection asked for by its officers, and that they had been solemnly promised, a long list of depredations and outrages that will mantle the face of every true man with shame, would not now be on the record, and a higher standard of morality and justice would obtain certainly in all the border States.
The neglect of the Government to assert the supremacy of law over a few border men, professional squatters, was regarded as a tacit approval of criminal acts by men professing to be just and honest; hence, this class perpetrated the same crime, claiming the right to do what was allowed by others.
If the strong arm of the Government is not continually extended along the line of Kansas, the same unscrupulous, mercenary and political elements that in the past have brought disgrace upon the State, by a cruel and unjust treatment of its Indian population, will deepened that disgrace by forcing an occupancy in the Indian territory.
That ground should be held sacredly as a shelter to the poor Indian from his rapacious enemies, and all the energies of philanthropy and benevolence be evoked to fit him to take his land in severality and became a citizen. God speed the day when the rights of the Indian may be held in the public conscience sacred as those of the white and black.
Standing alone against the tall, grass prairie, the shell of an abandoned country school stands as a silent reminder of days gone by. The crumbling, weathered foundation of a structure which stood as the cornerstone of a community where children learned and friends gathered, now fights against the elements, standing against the ages. At first view, the edifice may seem to be just a decaying piece of history. But to look even closer, a picture of a teacher instructing classroom lessons and a playground with children playing games such as Fox and Geese can still be imagined.
Although some country schools in Montgomery County are still standing, others have fallen or have been modified into homes or meeting halls. At one time, nearly 113 different school districts existed in the county alone. Since transportation was difficult in the late 1800s, county residents were forced to establish school districts about every six miles so their children could receive an education.
Today, most of the students in Montgomery County attend one of the four main public school districts in the county.
Names such as Centennial, Cherry Valley, Radical, Round Mound, Sunnyside, Gamble, LeHunt, Judea, Box and Caney Center were just a few of the many school districts that taught hundreds of children across the county. Although many existed for only a short period of time, the memory of attending country schools still remains in the hearts of those who were students as well as teachers.
Dorothy Booe, author of the book, "Schools of Montgomery County, Kansas," details the histories of many country schools as well as adds her own personal notes on her life as a student. In her book, Booe explains how some schools initially used homes or empty buildings for classrooms until a suitable schoolhouse was available. She notes in several county districts, the school was constructed on land which was given by the landowner. However, that agreement was only a verbal contract. Later in the 1880s, a form of ownership was needed for the land, and the rules for the school were established by the owner.
She also notes in her book that transportation for many students was their own two legs, unless the family had a horse that was not needed in the field that day. As an instructor in a country school, Fern Wood, a Cherryvale resident who spent 7 1/2 years teaching in country schools in addition to teaching 27 years in the Cherryvale school district, said the rural school teacher had a difficult job. She said the instructor was not only in charge of developing a lesson plan for grades first through eighth, but was also the janitor, physical education, music and art instructor as well as the disciplinarian.
"I always thought the job of a country school teacher could make or break you," Wood said. "There were so many duties, and if you didn't prepare, you were in big trouble. It took so much time, but once you worked through it for a few years you could handle anything."
Wood, who herself grew up in a country school in Strauss, Kan., located in eastern Labette County, not only taught at Racob-Wetzel (four miles north of Cherryvale) where she spent two years, but also taught at Cunningham in Labette County; Centennial, south of Cherryvale; Liberty; and Foster, which was located near Coffeyville. Wood said that during her teaching years at Racob-Wetzel, she taught between 15 and 20 students each year.
"The first graders had their own lessons to do, learning ordinal and cardinal numbers and counting," she said looking back at her teaching days. "But the eighth graders had pretty advanced work, and it took a teacher working through the summer to prepare. You didn't dare act like you didn't know what you were talking about. We had a recitation bench up at the front of the school where I would go over a lesson with one class while the others worked."
In addition to regular classroom duties, Wood said the instructor was in charge of planning box suppers, Christmas recitals and end-of-school programs.
"I remember the last day of school," she said. "Everyone cleaned out their desks and practiced their program. Then at noon, their families would come with basket dinners. After dinner, the men would have a ballgame and the women would clean up. Then we would end with a program where the students would be awarded for perfect attendance, and they would sing or give recitations or short plays if the teacher had time."
Another instructor, Pauline B. Smith, a retired Caney school teacher, also remembers her rural school teaching days when she taught in the Round Mound School District, located at the foot of Round Mound, or Fat Man's Belly, east of Havana, during the mid-1940s. Smith, who instructed between 14 to 18 students each year from first through eighth grades, said the building was always cold in the morning, so hired hands would light the pot-belly stove to keep the children warm.
"It was pretty rough, I tell you," she said. "Kids today can't realize how things once were." Smith also remembers being evaluated one day each year when the county superintendent would show up at school. "No one knew when the county superintendent would arrive," she said.
Kerry Bright, a rural Cherryvale resident who attended Racob-Wetzel, and his wife, Karen, who first attended school in the Hillcrest School District in Labette County before transferring to Billings, south of Cherryvale, also have special memories of life in a country school.
As a student, Kerry said he remembered how he would ride his horse the 3 1/2- mile distance to school, and after tying his horse up under a lean-to, would have to go looking for it later in the day after it would shake out of its bridle and would run home. At that time, he said the school year was between seven to eight months, since terms were shortened so farm children could stay at home and help their parents through harvest.
"It was just totally different," Karen said of her years spent in a country school. "It was just a different way of life. We not only used the school as a school, but for community meetings, and community meetings were the only activities you did. Everyone would get ready to go into town, and the kids would sing songs or have a program and the adults would go over town business."
For Karen, some of the memories which she remembers fondly include the daily trip to school in makeshift bus which was really a pickup truck with a homemade topper to cover the back end and benches to sit on, and the cakewalks and box suppers which sometimes did not go as planned - forcing some girls to sit with someone else besides their beau if the bid was high enough.
But for those who taught or attended a country school, the special memories of special events or the funny antics of a classroom prankster will remain forever in their hearts forever. "There was such a closeness in the community, the school held the community together," Wood said. "And it still holds true today, even in small city schools. Once a school is gone, the town is gone with it."
Dewey, Okla. - With the charm of his smile and his natural sense of strength and character, Tom Mix was known as one of Hollywood's most popular cowboy film stars during the early 1900s. Through nail-biting stunts that pitted raw courage against the possibility of certain death, Mix wowed audiences as he pursued any means possible to see that good always triumphed over the evil lurking in the shadows.
But Hollywood didn't teach Mix any Western tricks. The dark-haired, stiff-jawed man with the 10-gallon hat got his lessons in being a true cowboy while serving as a deputy in Dewey, Okla., and in a small town in Montgomery County.
When Montgomery County was developing the oil and gas industry at the turn of the century, an area northwest of Independence was receiving some industrial attention. The portion of land known later as Le Hunt was beginning to boom as a new cement company, which had a capacity of producing 4,000 barrels of cement daily, was beginning to start its operations. Several hundred employees worked at the plant, and a small business district sprang up under the cloudy gray smoke belching from Le Hunt's smokestacks.
During this time, Leigh Hunt, the plant contractor and the town's namesake, was looking for someone who could provide security as well as keep law and order in the tiny town. As the town father was on the lookout for a lawman, Mix and a friend had heard of Le Hunt and were curious about its possibilities, said Edgar Weston, a longtime historian of Dewey, Okla. Mix had already been involved in wild west shows at that time and was looking for work during the show's off month. Mix, who was a deputy marshal in Dewey, traveled to Le Hunt to meet with Hunt about the job openings.
Boasting his ficticious tales of serving in the Boxer Rebellion and his stint as a Texas Ranger or serving as a guard for President Theodore Roosevelt's innauguration, Mix later got the job where he was in charge of the men who lived in the tents and shanty villages near the plant. Montgomery County historian Paul Harper in his book, "Surely It Floweth With Milk and Honey," said Mix adopted rules to keep the camp town clean and free from all sorts of riff raff.
In the book, Harper tells of a newspaper's account of how Mix captured at least a half dozen gamblers and bootleggers and not only confiscated their gambling devices but also suitcase of whiskey. Harper said lawmen had problems controlling the number of gamblers and bootleggers who would travel into camp on pay day to tempt cement workers into giving up their hard-earned money.
While Mix served as deputy town marshal in Dewey and later as deputy sheriff in Le Hunt, he had also worked for several years as an entertainer with wild west shows. Weston said that after he first caught a glimpse of Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley, Mix was never the same for his feelings toward being a peace officer and wanted to pursue a career where he could perform trick shooting, horse riding and knife throwing.
He was one
of the top acts in the popular Miller Bros. 101 Wild West Show - a show that
ultimately propelled Mix to stardom. He became an actor of bit parts in silent
films of the Selig Film Company. In 1909, a movie filmed near Dewey featured Mix
in a memorable bronc busting scene which started his career on the fast track.
According to information at the Tom Mix Museum in Dewey, Mix changed the
image of Western movies by portraying a character who romanticized that era in
American history. Reigning as the "King of the Cowboys" during the 1920s, museum
curators said the flamboyantly dressed Mix tried to make his characters men of
high character.
"I...believe in some little way I can convince the boyhood of America that neither smoking, drinking nor gambling are essential...That is why I try to make my characters those of men of high ideals," Mix once said during his 30-year film career.
Although Mix lived a life full of adventure as a wild west entertainer, a deputy sheriff, a soldier and finally as a star of the silver screen, he passed through this lifetime the same way he lived through his own. On Oct. 12, 1940, during a trip from Tucson, Ariz., to Florence, Ariz., he died in a car crash. A lover of fast cars, Mix was racing his 1937 Cord 812 Super-Charged Phaeton when he lost control and slammed into a dry wash. Mix died when one of his metal suitcases shot forward during the accident and snapped his neck.
Today, his life is memorialized in the
Tom Mix Museum in downtown Dewey. From his flashy Western costumes to his gun
collection, films and an endless compilation of photos, the museum chronicles
Mix's life from his birth in Mix Run, Pa., to his life as a cowboy actor.
But the ghost town of Le Hunt, where Mix once patrolled the rough and tumble
streets, only crumbling remnants of the large cement company shows through the
dense growth of weeds, slowly closing the last scene of Mix's early career.
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