He was a craftsman; he had been trained in Prussia to carve
beautiful creations from the simplest of things. Like many of the freshly-arrived immigrants to the States, Oswald Karl Lux wished to immerse himself in new customs while still holding onto some of those from his homeland.
He was on a mission.
Oswald left his little workshop at the back of his home on
Archibald Street in Westport content to follow through with a promise he had made
himself. As he scratched his beard, he wrapped his trench coat closer to his
body in hopes to shield the bitter cold wind as it gusted straight through his
small frame. The cold wasn’t going to stop him – he must continue.
1885 view of Westport Road and Pennsylvania Missouri Valley Special Collections |
He had resolved to mount his horse and tie up his wagon so
he could travel three miles north to bustling Kansas City. Perhaps what he was
looking for could be found in one of the many stores that had advertised the
ability to supply Christmas goods. As he traveled up and down the hills on the
main road, he imagined six-year-old Hattie waking up on Christmas morning and
rushing to the front of their home to see what Santa Claus had brought her. Oh,
and Olga. . . Olga would grab her big sister’s hand and run with her full
speed in wonderment to what awaited.
It reminded him of a harsher time in July 1880- just over
two years earlier- when three-year-old Hattie had clasped his hand as they
boarded the ship from Hamburg to New York alone. It was a decision that most
could not even fathom, leaving his pregnant Agnes and seven month old Olga behind in Prussia as he and little Hattie set up a new home in Missouri. That
first Christmas in this new country was coated in sadness, because their growing
family was an ocean apart. Christmas 1883 was going to be different; now that Richard
was born healthy and they were finally together, the Lux family was going to
have a proper Christmas together. Their first was much less extravagant- they
had no money to spend with so many mouths to feed.
The German immigrants in Kansas City had to have what he was
looking for at their shops. Time was running short, but he knew he had to try.
Oswald arrived at 15th and Grand and peered up at the sign above the
shop. Warneke Baker Company would be his first shot in the city. Their bakery
was renowned for their confectionary, dried fruits and trinkets for Christmas
trimming. As he peered through the frosted window and spotted several Christmas
adornments, including beautifully frosted cakes, he smiled in hope. This place
could have what he so desperately craved.
Main St. at 11th cir. 1880 Image supplied by John Dawson |
“Good morning, sir! How may I help you?” the clerk inquired
with a growing smile on his face.
Oswald’s heart raced a little quicker when he immediately
noticed the clerk had no accent. He tried to form his words, uncomfortable and
shy in his demeanor. He had practiced his words so many times before as he had
combed all the stores in Westport the day before. Oswald grew a little taller
and looked in the young clerk’s direction. “I look for tree. Christmas tree,”
Oswald announced in a thick German accent.
The clerk’s eyes widened as he listened to the man’s
request. With only a second of hesitation, the clerk threw his pointer finger
up into the air excitedly. “Yes! Yes. A tree! I think I have what you’re
looking for!”
Oswald grew a little more uncomfortable as he recognized
that this young man wouldn’t be able to speak to him in German. However, his
animated actions made it easier for Oswald to understand him. The clerk waved
Oswald over to the other side of the small store. Reluctantly, Oswald began to
walk on the checkered floor and toward where the clerk now stood. He raised his
eyes and placed his gloves on the glass counter. Behind it, the clerk proudly
stood next to a miniature Christmas tree no taller than eighteen inches. Its
delicate branches drooped in sadness. They were weighted down by a few pieces
of dried oranges tied with red ribbon on the few sprigs of greenery.
Oswald looked curiously at this small tree. His brow
furrowed as he made eye contact with the proud, young clerk looking for another
commission before Christmas. His hands rested on his hips as he beamed back at Oswald.
Yes, this clerk thought he had this sale in the bag.
“No, no, no…” Oswald shook his head back and forth, “I look
for… for… for big tree.”
The clerk crooked his head to the side as he realized that
this sale wasn’t going to be as easy as he had thought. “How big are you
thinking, sir?” he asked as he sprung his hand up and down at his waist indicate
the size.
Oswald threw his arm above his head and proudly responded, “Dis
big!”
He had struck out again. As Oswald slowly opened the door to
leave Warneke’s, the clerk hollered, “I wish you luck, sir. But I don’t think
you’re going to find anything that big here in the city.”
Oswald turned, tipped his hat and nodded to the young clerk
as he shut the door behind him. The cold rushed his body as he buried his face
closer to his jacket collar and headed toward his horse and wagon. He had to rethink what
he was going to do next.
He did try other stores, and reluctantly, he had to admit
the clerk was right. There were no tall evergreen trees available in Kansas
City for purchase. As he headed south back home to Westport, he was lost in
thoughts and defeat. He just couldn’t imagine letting the little ones down on
Christmas morning. He had already told them tall tales of Christmases long ago
in Prussia- the beauty of a perfectly trimmed evergreen tree brightening up the
coldest of winter days. An eighteen-inch tree or smaller was literally all
these merchants had, and that wasn’t even close to what he had promised to
deliver.
Union Cemetery showing the large evergreens Courtesy of unionhill.com |
Those branches. . . Wait. Those branches!
He slapped the reins on the horse’s flank and turned toward
the west. As he drew closer to Union Cemetery, he stopped at one of the
towering evergreens and took out his pocket knife from his coat. He breathed
in deeply and closed his eyes; the familiar smell of fresh evergreen enraptured
him. Yes, this would work. He can make this work.
Oswald quietly crooked his head toward the large tree and gingerly
cut branches off of it. His gloves became sticky from the sap, so he removed
them to quicken his task. He gathered the healthiest branches in his reach,
bundled them and placed them in his wagon. Excitement overtook him.
He knew now that his skills as a cabinetmaker would soon be
at work. He had the greenery, but he needed sturdy branches that would hold up
to the weight of all he had envisioned in his mind. As he turned into the town of Westport, he was overcome with another brilliant idea to pull off
this massive undertaking. He stopped and purchased a broom and asked the owner
of a saloon if he could have one of the empty barrels chucked at the back of
his business. He loaded the contents into his wagon and turned toward Archibald
Street to his cozy home.
For the next two nights, Oswald worked by candlelight to
transform these objects into something beautiful. He removed the head, hoops
and rivets to free the curved wooden staves from the barrel. The scent of
Kentucky bourbon drifted to his nose and throughout the small shop behind his
home. Oswald fastened the staves to the broomstick handle one-by-one, the
longest, about fifteen inches, being at the bottom. He used shorter sticks to fashion the top of the tree. Recycling colored tissue, he concealed the wooden staves and
carefully covered over the tissue with the sprigs of evergreen acquired near
Union Cemetery.
Oswald cautiously walked backward, his eyes concentrating on
the project at hand. He put his hand to his mouth and thought about what else
he needed to make this makeshift tree something special.
Oswald Karl Lux (1846-1937) Courtesy of the Lux descendants |
After the children were put to bed on Christmas Eve, Mr. Lux
quietly carried his creation into his home and mounted it in the front window.
Oswald and Agnes silently tied toys, dolls, sweets and apples on each branch.
Before the signs of daylight, Oswald quickly lit each of the candles on the
tree and impatiently waited for the children to awake from their slumber.
As daylight barely crept through the windows, the children
awoke in the instant excitement that comes from anticipation on Christmas morning.
The oldest children, Hattie and Olga, jumped out of bed and raced to the
doorway into the front room. Standing before them was the most beautiful
creation they had ever seen. Glowing even in the early morning, the lighted
Christmas tree, standing just three feet tall, was a delight. Their cries of enthusiasm were replaced with awe at the lighted
tree.
Before breakfast was finished, the marvel of the tree
had drawn small neighborhood children to the streets. Through the frosty front window of
the Lux home on Archibald Street in Westport, the children saw the glowing beauty
of the largest tree they had ever seen. One-by-one, they called on
the Lux family so they could get a closer look at the finest tree they had ever
seen.
For over a week after Christmas, the Lux home was the site
of continuous activity. The tree’s popularity triggered Oswald to remove it
from the front window and onto the street so everyone could stop and see it.
Boxes and boxes of candles were used to keep the tree lit, and children
returned every day to stare at its splendor.
Two years later, Oswald’s want of purchasing a large tree
for his family was no longer an issue. Evergreen trees imported from Michigan
became available in Kansas City in 1885.
Yet the first lighted tree in all of Kansas City and
Westport would forever be attributed to Oswald Karl Lux, a German immigrant who
wished to light up the faces of his small children on that Christmas day in
1883.
The First Electric Christmas Tree Lights
Thirty-two year-old Edwin R. Weeks traveled from his offices
at 807 Santa Fe in Kansas City to his residence at 1409 Cherry. With Christmas upon
him, he couldn’t wait to arrive home to show his infant daughter, Ruth and his
wife, Mary what he had just received by parcel from his friends, Thomas Edison
and Edward Johnson.
They had sent him something special to try out in Kansas City.
They had sent him something special to try out in Kansas City.
Edwin Ruthven Weeks (1855-1938) |
Edwin R. Weeks became close to these pioneers of electricity
after circumstances in 1881 led him to be the manager of Kawsmouth Electric
Light Company. After working at the Kansas
City Journal as a newspaper man and a short stint with the railroads, Weeks’
innovations and natural ability in physics had him pioneering electricity in
the city. He had supervised over the first plant in the world to use the
Thompson-Houston system (now General Electric).
As the city grew in size, Edwin had been breaking ground on
spreading electricity. Before long, he had just shy of four miles of poles
carrying electrical currents to the West Bottoms, the Union Avenue business
section and Quality Hill. In 1883, he had incorporated the Kansas City
Electrical Company, the precursor to Kansas City Power and Light.
The first electric dynamos appeared in a 1917 article in the Kansas City Star |
Weeks tightly tucked the wooden box under his arm as he
rushed inside his brick home to greet his wife and daughter. In the front room,
his Christmas tree stood, lit by numerous candles. He shouted for Mary
and told her to come into the room.
“Wait until you see what has been sent to us!” Edwin
exclaimed as he carefully placed the box on a table in the room.
With Ruth in her arms, Mary smiled and played along. “Why,
what is this?”
Edwin smiled widely as he turned his attention to prying the
lid off the box. He tore through the protective papers and peered inside.
There they were- colored lightbulbs and wiring.
Edison Christmas tree lights (1903-1904) |
She looked back and forth from the candles on the tree
already displayed in their front window to the lightbulb in her husband’s hand.
“Are they safe?” she quietly asked.
“Of course they are safe! They have to be safer than these
candles!” he beamed.
Without much of an argument in her, Mary watched in silence from
the settee as Edwin gingerly screwed each bulb into the wiring. After removing
each candle from the tree and cautiously draping the single strand of electric
lights on its branches, Edwin leaned down to test this new innovation.
Mary gasped as the room was soon replaced from candlelight
into a room of magical color. Edwin turned the lights off around the house and
they raced outside to catch a glimpse of the glory from the street.
An early 1900s advertisement for Christmas lights |
The mistrust of electricity throughout the United States
continued for years. In 1895, President Grover Cleveland assisted in building confidence
in electric tree lighting when the family Christmas tree in the White House was
coated in hundreds of electric lightbulbs.
Therefore, the evolution of electric lighting of trees
became more and more popular in the 20th Century.
He had been there when Jesse Clyde Nichols staked out a location
in the low creek bottoms to build the first outdoor shopping center in all of
America. Nichols’ innovations and creativity had him imagining a nostalgic
location that would include architecture that matched the beauty of Seville,
Spain. At that time in 1922, Charles S. Pitrat was only a 27-year-old eager to
find a place within J.C. Nichols' growing empire.
Within just a few short years, Pitrat had positioned himself
as a vital part of the development of the Country Club Plaza. He counted his blessings that Christmas season in 1925 when he stood in the second story
entrance of the Suydam Building on Mill Creek Parkway (now J.C. Nichols
Parkway). This very building was the first to be finished on the Plaza, and he
had helped lease the first tenant. The Suydam Decorating Company on the second
floor was the original namesake of this important place.
He had seen the Country Club Plaza emerge from a vision inside
of Clyde Nichols’ head and change into a physical location that was slowly building
into a significant place. His office in the Tower Building guaranteed he could
be nearby if anyone needed anything through development.
The site today of the very first Christmas lights strung by Pitrat |
“Merry Christmas,” he shouted as one of the tenants locked
up for the night and headed out the door of the Suydam Building. He held onto
the small strand of lights in his hand and glanced upward to the cornices of
the building.
Yes, this will do just
fine, he thought to himself as he climbed a small ladder and got to work.
His father, too, had been a revolutionary in Kansas City
when he had opened Kansas City’s first bookstore, Osborne
& Pitrat. Maybe that same spark of firsts followed Charles on this very
day. But when he climbed that ladder and strung the small strand of lights, he
was simply looking to spread some holiday cheer.
The Plaza Lights, 1940 Missouri Valley Special Collections |
Charles S. Pitrat’s simple strand of lights in 1925 on what is now known as the Mill Creek Building transformed the Plaza’s place in history, and each year became grander and grander than the last.
To read another great story about Christmas in Kansas City, check out last year's post here: Christmas History, Cultures and Traditions of Kansas City Settlers
***Merry Christmas from the Santa Fe Trailer! Don't forget to LIKE my Facebook page (search The Santa Fe Trailer) so you don't miss any of these incredible stories. As always, thank you for reading and inspiring me to keep writing about the history of this incredible area.
*Main image of the Plaza Lights was published at www.theodysseyonline.com
*Some fictional details were added to bring these stories alive, yet thorough research was conducted (as always!)