Speaking From Beyond the Grave at Union Cemetery

Resting on top of the highest point of Union Cemetery is an impressive stone near the paved pathway which, at first glance, looks like many of the others surrounding it. However, this one holds an ominous message – a mysterious warning set in stone for 145 years. 

Although worn, the sunlight peeking through the trees aids in reading the inscription: 

 

FRANK BARNUM

MURDERED

At Brownsville, Mo.

Oct. 6, 1876

Aged

44 Years

----

Vengeance Is Mine, I Will 

Repay, Saith the Lord

Naturally, when I got wind of this strange stone I had to know more about the man and the murder.

Fred Barnum's headstone at Union Cemetery

Surrounded by the graves of thousands of Kansas City pioneers in an otherwise peaceful location in the heart of Midtown, the final resting place of Frank Barnum leaves the unassuming passerby a bit stunned by the promise of punishment carefully carved in 1876. Did the mourning family get their wish, or was this murder left a cold case only memorialized in white marble?

 

There is, indeed, a story to be told here – and this story begins with his wife.

 

The Spiritualism of Martha Simmis 

 

Born in Suffolk Co., N.Y. in 1833 to parents White and Almena Simmis, Martha (known as Mattie) moved with her parents and older twin brothers, Anson and Edson to Huron Co., Ohio when she was about four years old. There, she was well-educated in country schools and was reared on a large farm.

In 1852, 19-year-old Martha married 26-year-old James H. Welch in Ohio. After the death of her father in 1859, Martha, her husband, one brother and her mother moved to San Francisco, Calif. where James operated a liquor and grocery store, invested in real estate and became a soda manufacturer.

The couple had no trouble making their way into high society and surrounding themselves with the finer things in life.

In 1862, the Welches welcomed a baby girl they named Emma. 

Likely drawn by the expanding railroad into Kansas City, the Welches uprooted out of California and moved to our blossoming city in 1868. James used his knowledge of real estate to quickly buy up vacant land. In short order, he capitalized on his investments and erected “some fine buildings.” They settled into a large home at 515 Wyandotte.

 

Kansas City Journal of Commerce
March 21, 1866

While this elite couple seemed to quickly fit well into Kansas City society, they still had whispers behind their backs when they openly admitted they were Spiritualists.

Spiritualism emerged in the 19th century predominately among the middle and upper class and centered on the belief that the dead could communicate with the living. How this was practiced inside their home remains unknown. 

It started its spread in larger cities- cities such as New York. . . and San Francisco.

Did the Welches bring their beliefs to Kansas City? This is certainly likely, because the movement didn’t really ignite until much later. The Welches were a very small group in a growing city.

About 18 months after their arrival in Kansas City, the Welches made the newspapers when on Jan. 8, 1871, a tragic accident set off a chain of unfortunate events. The couple was traveling on the Westport Rd. in their buggy after a funeral. The horses frightened, and within seconds, the buggy had turned over. James Welch’s right leg was broken above the ankle, and Martha “received severe injuries.”

 

Martha bought this plot at Union Cemetery after
her first husband, J.H. Welch died.
She buried and memorialized them on
the same marble marker.

After the break, James was “placed under the best surgical skill.” About a week after the accident, an ulcer developed on his ankle. He was able to slowly heal. On Jan. 31, James was “engaged in cheerful conversation with his family members.” Without any warning, James “suddenly extended his hands upward, gave a scream and fell back dead.” He was 45 years old.

Even as Martha worked to put her husband at rest at Union Cemetery, it only took a few days for the Journal of Commerce to report of supposed visits to the Welch home from “disembodied spirits.” It became disturbing enough that a friend and fellow Spiritualist wrote into the paper and proclaimed, “The private religion of a bereaved family should not be an excuse for curious eyes and gossiping tongues.”

The estate was estimated to be worth $50,000 and included some pretty pricey parcels of Kansas City property.

Frank Barnum Busts on the Scene

Born in Syracuse, N.Y. in 1832, Frank Barnum’s childhood and early career remains, as so much of his life, shrouded in mystery. After receiving a general education, Frank moved to Chile and was “a secretary of legation” there. Later, he established the first stage route from Chile to Bolivia.

After returning to the States, Frank allegedly bought and operated a hotel in Raleigh, N.C. before he took up interest in newspapers. In 1869, he became editor of a Raleigh paper named The Live Giraffe.

Unfortunately, he got into trouble with the pen after he “maliciously attacked” the management of the local railroad. As things heated up, Frank skipped town and allegedly landed in Georgia. The president of the railroad publicly wrote, “The people of Atlanta, especially gentlemen, would do well to keep an eye on this fellow Barnum.”

But, records indicate he skipped over Atlanta and headed to Kansas City.

It appears that Frank didn’t hide at least some of his past. The Kansas City Times wrote, “He moved from North Carolina where he edited a spicy newspaper there for several years.” 

If “spicy” means scandalous, then I suppose this was true.

In August 1871, Frank Barnum had successfully slid into society when he and business partners purchased printing equipment to revitalize the Evening News newspaper. Just two years later, he was in charge of the business dealings and was noted as “a live, energetic and stirring businessman.” 

He had caught Kansas City’s highest praises, and he also caught the eye of an attractive widow named Martha Welch. On Oct. 5, 1873, the couple was married. The Kansas City Times noted the union of the two, proclaiming, “May their way in life be one of pleasure and unalloyed happiness.”

For a time, it was. 

 

The white circle shows the location of Martha's home (515 Wyandotte); the red circle shows
the location of Barnum's Hotel. Courtesy of Library of Congress "A Bird's Eye View 
of Kansas City, 1869"

Barnum's Hotel

In 1874, one of Martha Welch-Barnum’s properties at 402 Main St. was vacant. It was for a time the St. Nicholas Hotel, and Frank decided that he’d abandon his newspaper career and become the proprietor of a hotel. He went into business with Charles Hopkins, a well-known businessman who had for many years run the Gilliss House Hotel on the levee. 

1868 photo taken looking north along Main St.
at about 5th.The St. Nicholas Hotel can be seen
on the left. Photo courtesy John Dawson

In August 1875 after extensive renovations, the hotel was reopened. It featured “gas in every room, water upon every floor and beds the life of which are not often seen.” The Journal of Commerce wrote, “It will rapidly become one of the most popular hotels in the New West.” 

 

The couple’s lifestyle was certainly privileged as compared to most living in Kansas City at the time, and Martha liked the finer things in life. In November 1875, newspapers across the country reported the impressive gift Martha’s brother, Edson sent her from Ecuador. Inside the package was “a brooch and earrings of diamonds of goodly size, and of the first water, set in gold of chaste and elegant design, of ancient pattern, and valued at $2500 in gold.” The jewelry was said to have been owned by the former president of Ecuador.

“The present owner is worthy of the gift, and will wear them right royally,” the newspaper wrote.

Things seemed to be going so well for them; Frank even legally adopted Martha’s daughter, Emma. Alas, the health and wealth of the happy couple was short-lived.

The former Barnum's Hotel (the three buildings
in view) as they appeared in 1890.
 Missouri Valley Special Collections,
KCPL.

Frank’s health at 44 years-old was failing him; he was “being attacked by nervous cramps.” Although virtually unexplained in nature, the sickness had him gradually losing weight and seeking out treatments at Dr. Kellogg’s Turkish Baths at 5th and Walnut. In September 1876, Frank had a near-death experience where he almost drowned. 

The near-death experience got so much attention of Kansas City society that Frank wrote “a card” to the Kansas City Times to explain what happened.

“As it has been reported that I was injured by the Turkish Baths, I will state that, having been unwell, and the Turkish Bath being occupied by ladies, I took a tub bath; and becoming once insensible, I came near being drowned,” Frank wrote.

Luckily, when the room became quiet, a doctor thought to check on Frank, found him almost completely underwater, and pulled him out just in the nick of time.

He even noted that his health was questionable. “It is the opinion of myself and my wife that the bath saved my life two years ago, and I only regret that I did not follow [my wife’s] advice and take the bath regularly,” Frank explained. 

This is a bit of foreshadowing, because it wasn’t the first or last time Frank should’ve listened to Martha.

Nine days later after the incident at the Turkish Baths, Frank Barnum decided to head out of Kansas City “to reap the health benefits” of the Sweet Springs at Brownsville, Mo. (now known as the town of Sweet Springs). Genuinely devoted to his beloved wife, Frank wrote letters to her daily – letters which would be printed in the papers after Martha received some of the worst news of her life.

The Spirits Visit Frank

Even as Frank was separated from Martha, he wrote her letters daily. On Oct. 4, he wrote his “Darling Mattie” and explained he had a terrible night’s sleep. The letter, published days later in the newspaper, reads in part, “I was continually dreaming of being overpowered by a couple of brutish demons, who would choke and beat me into an almost deathly unconsciousness, even in my dreams, and from which I would awaken thoroughly exhausted, and so real did it seem that I would have to pull my ears to see if there was any of my head left on my shoulders.” 

Sweet Springs Hotel, cir. 1880, where Frank stayed on his visit.

He went on to explain he was so scared he couldn’t sleep; after daylight came, he heard his name called. “I was visited by a veritable spirit, ghost, phantom, or whatever you may choose to call it,” he wrote. He recognized her as Maria, a woman he knew from his time in South America. “She was dressed in black. . . In her right hand she held a large black cross, and in her left a card photograph.” The photograph, he claimed, had blood on it.

After kissing the cross in her hand, the spirit said he was in grave danger. “Some people would look upon such [fantasies] as the forebodings of some great and terrible calamity, a sign of a token, the tail end of a forerunner, or something of that kind, and perhaps it may be,” Frank wrote to his Martha.

Even with this ominous warning, Frank wrote further letters insisting he felt he wasn’t in danger and commented that his health was steadily improving. 

His last letter was sent on his third wedding anniversary- Oct. 6. He wrote, “I am so much better I will tell you. On the night I had those terrible dreams I had a slight nervous attack like I had the night I was first taken sick, and since that time until to-day I have been troubled a great deal with my head."

Frank continued, “You will get this on Saturday morning, and if I am not on the train Saturday don’t be the least alarmed, but look for me certain on Monday.” 

The letter closed, “Don’t worry about me. I will be all right in a day or two. . . A good kiss for you and Emma, and my undying love for you both. I am, forever, your loving Frank.”

The Murder

On Oct. 6, Frank dropped his letter in the mail, went out for a walk and was never seen alive again. The proprietor of the hotel where he stayed went to his room and discovered all of his luggage still remained. The following day, children playing about a mile and a half outside of town discovered a lifeless man’s body floating in a shallow pond.

It was Frank Barnum.

Kansas City Times, Oct. 8, 1876

A telegram was sent to Frank’s business partner, Charles Hopkins who then notified Martha of her husband’s untimely death.

Further investigation, including a visit to Sweet Springs by the Kansas City’s Chief of Police, Thomas Speers revealed that Frank had nine cuts on the right side of his head from a blunt object and scratches on his face. His overcoat was found in a ditch nearby and his necktie was located under a willow tree. It was his opinion that a stake found in the mud near the pond were used for the first blows and “an old hatchet found in the pond was used to hack and mutilate the body after death.” 

A towel was found tied around the back of Frank’s neck  so tight “it could not be untied.” He was discarded in the pond after death. After the pond was drained, they discovered his pistol and other jewelry at the bottom. He had only been robbed of his watch and $12.

Even with overwhelming evidence indicating foul play, the Journal of Commerce wrote that Frank may have wanted to take his own life and claimed he was “an ardent spiritualist” who “clearly predicted the manner of his death.”

The article even claimed Frank thought his death would come soon, and before leaving for Sweet Springs, “he requested. . . that a band of instrumental music should assist in the funeral ceremonies, and that no sacred music should be permitted.

Kansas City Times headline, Oct. 11, 1876

This did not sit well with his widow, Martha. She was not having it.

In a scathing letter, Martha vehemently denied Frank was a spiritualist and said that she was the one who followed their beliefs. “He saw a singular phenomenon, is true,” she wrote. “And had he had the faith I have, he would have left the place.” 

She was a Spiritualist, but Frank as not.

To suggest he committed suicide was a low blow, “for no such reasoning could convince any reasoning mind that a man could chop his head open on the back in nine places, knock his senses out with a blow on the side of the head, tie a heavy towel over his throat to produce strangulation so tight that it could not be untied,” Martha wrote.

Dang.

“Then after insensibility had been produced by either of the above; then get to a pond some distance off and throw himself in. He could not do all of this, even if he was a carpenter, and with all my husband’s inventive ingenuity, I do not believe he could kill himself three times.”

Go Martha! 

The matter was settled by a coroner’s inquest that found “the deceased came to his death by violence.” 

Ryerson W. Hilliker
(1830-1903)

The town offered a $500 reward for the capture of the murderer. Martha matched it. The governor threw in another $500. Despite the money, no one was ever arrested.

Memorialized in Stone

A year later, the newspaper claimed that Frank had visited from the grave after Martha contacted a medium. The Journal of Commerce wrote, “Mr. B. had often asserted that when he should die he would return to convince his unbelieving friends of the truth of the hereafter as viewed from the Spiritualist standpoint.”

The medium, “speaking” to Frank, said that the man who killed him was so full of grief and remorse “that he died shortly after, and was present with [Frank] in the spirit world, a penitent sinner for his misdeeds.” He then allegedly vowed for the search for his killer to stop.

 

Was this enough for Martha to be satisfied? We will never truly know.

Martha remarried the former mayor of Kansas City, Kan., R.W. Hilliker, in 1884. After a four-year battle with cancer, Martha passed away July 13, 1899 and was buried next to her two husbands, James Welch and Frank Barnum.

There was no mention of Frank Barnum in her obituary.

In a story with so many twists and turns, there was one more. One year after her death, Martha’s niece, named after her, married her third husband, R.W. Hilliker. He was 70 years old. The second Martha (Martha Simmis) was 35. 

When R.W. Hilliker passed away three years later, he, too was laid to rest next to James Welch, Frank Barnum and Martha – to the side of a headstone with such a menacing message.

Perhaps the words “Murdered” and “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord” Martha directed to be etched for eternity on Frank Barnum’s headstone was a product of her Spiritualism- her unwavering belief that she could speak to Frank from beyond the grave.

Whether she did or not will remain yet another unsolved mystery.

* * * * *

Personal Update: Thank you to all of my readers who have been so patient with me! Although I haven't published on my blog in some time, I will be back-dating some posts and will try to post every other month. I have articles I have written for the newspaper that need to be expanded and put on here. Please bear with me. I have been busy navigating teaching during a pandemic, writing for the newspaper twice a month, keeping up with Sauer Castle and I'm taking some pretty challenging graduate history classes through Missouri State. I'll be writing my thesis in the fall/spring of 2022-23 and will graduate with my second masters in history in May 2023! Messages of encouragement are greatly appreciated. :)

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