Learning from the Past: The 1918 Flu Pandemic in Kansas City

Soldiers being treated for influenza at Camp Funston at Fort Riley, Ks. Image courtesy of the National Archive

It was given an incorrect name that stuck. It seemed to come from nowhere, and doctors at the time had little treatment for it. It was unclear how it even was transmitted, as the theory about germs was in its infancy. Public officials tried to balance the line between protecting the population without scaring them and reporting the straight-up facts.

Camp Syracuse in New York, taken October 1918.
Courtesy U.S. Army

Many historians call the influenza outbreak in 1918 the “forgotten pandemic.” Even though everyone in the United States was affected in some way, the public over time forgot about it- but scientists didn’t.

We do tend to forget the past.

The lessons learned from what came to be labeled the Spanish Flu should have laid the course for what and what not to do during a pandemic. Kansas City in particular suffered harder than most large cities due to divided politics, mixed messages, and a raging World War.

The story, many now believe, begins in a county just shy of of 400 miles southwest of Kansas City. 

King Alfonzo VIII of Spain 
(1886-1931)

In January 1918, rural Haskell County in the southwestern corner of Kansas was facing a serious problem. Practically overnight, people were reporting severe symptoms. The newspaper reported, “Most everybody over the country is having la grippe or pneumonia.”

"La Grippe" or "the Grip" was a common term for influenza at the time. 

  

Shortly after, several young men kissed their mothers goodbye and headed to Camp Funston at Fort Riley, Ks. to be trained in the Army to fight overseas in World War I. They didn’t just take their luggage with them- they were likely carrying with them a deadly strain of influenza.

By the beginning of March,1100 soldiers came down with this mysterious flu at Camp Funston. Because of the war effort, these soldiers carried the virus to other Army camps. Before getting their ticket to the battlefields in Europe, influenza infected at least 24 of the large Army camps in the states and spread to nearby communities.

  

The United States stayed quiet as the virus virtually spread like wildfire – no one wanted the enemy to know that soldiers could have been weakened by sickness. By the time it reached Europe and crossed the invisible borders into Spain, millions of people had been infected.... including their king, Alfonzo VIII.

Boss Tom Pendergast (1872-1945)

Spain was neutral during World War I, so they openly reported the outbreak while most everyone else downplayed the problem. In turn, this new, deadly strain of influenza got a new name- the Spanish Flu.

The name has stuck for over a century.

By 1918, Kansas City’s population was around 225,000. Because of rapid population growth, the city was congested. Many boarding houses crammed tenants into them, and modern plumbing was a luxury. The absence of sufficient bathing houses, running water and lack of personal hygiene was the perfect breeding ground for a deadly virus.

The people making political decisions were a part of the “Democratic Machine.” Joe Shannon and Tom Pendergast had at one time been at odds for control of democratic politics but had agreed to work together to elect “their people” into office.

Mayor James Cowgill was one of these people, and after put into office, Pendergast and Shannon split appointment of government offices in half so each boss could have equal control over the police and fire departments, the City Council and even the Health Board.

Old City Hospital (General Hospital No. 2), the first black hospital
in Kansas City, operated from 1908-1957

Kansas City had one public hospital called General Hospital that had about 350 beds. There were over a dozen private hospitals- if you could afford them. The head of General Hospital was Dr. E.H. Bullock, and he was appointed director of the Health Board.

The president of the Health Board was W.P. Motley, and most everyone on the Board were people who “worked” for the Democratic Bosses. The political setup in Kansas City would directly affect the way these men would respond to a public health crisis in 1918.

And of course, we were in the heart of the Jim Crow era, so equality in Kansas City was certainly lacking. Hospitals were segregated. In 1908 when General Hospital built a new and nicer building across the street from their first location, African Americans in Kansas City finally got their own hospital -their only one at the time- called "General Hospital #2," commonly referred to as the Old City Hospital or the Negro Hospital.

Dr. William J. Thompkins (1884-1944)

At the time, African Americans made up 10% of the city's population- 25,000 people. They were crowded into three areas of the city and had their own bathhouses- although there definitely weren't enough for a population of their size.

The Old City Hospital was set up to cater to black and Latino people and was run by Dr. William J. Thompkins starting in 1914. He worked to set up a school at the hospital to train African-American nurses. 

Although influenza had attacked the Army and other communities in March and April, Kansas City seemed to have avoided any direct threat to the virus. As the second wave of this strain of flu emerged in late September, it swept through Kansas City and created mass chaos.

Ironically, a second hospital for blacks called Wheatley-Provident Hospital opened at 1826 Forest Ave. on September 29, 1918- two days after the first case of the flu crept into Kansas City. 12,000 people gathered on their opening day to witness the dedication.  Founded by Dr. J. Edward Perry, the facility was designed to run as a hospital and training school for nurses.

There were two black hospitals for 25,000 people in 1918. Today, over a century has passed and racial disparity is still alive and well in Kansas City.

12,000 people gathered on September 29, 1918 outside of Wheatley-Provident Hospital to celebrate
its dedication. Photo courtesy Missouri Valley Special Collections, KCPL

On the other side of the segregated city, the first case of flu likely started with the Army in town. Starting in the city’s two Army motor corps schools, the first cases of the disease were immediately put into quarantine but the damage had already been done. The soldiers had been in contact with some young ladies, and shortly thereafter, they came down with the illness. According to the University of Michigan, “By October 1st, twenty percent of the city’s army training schools [in Kansas City] had contracted influenza. Forty-three civilian cases had appeared, with 33 of them under isolation.”

Mayor James Cowgill (1848-1922),
Kansas City's mayor from 1918 until his death

Health Director Dr. Bullock acknowledged the cases but said it was “not yet dangerous.” Five days later, 24 deaths were reported in one day. General Hospital was already crowded and people were being turned away.

It sure was an inopportune time to be battling a deadly virus, especially since doctors didn't even agree at the time what caused the spread of it.

In the 19^th century, no degree was required to enter medical school and there were various theories of disease transmission. When this flu broke out, it didn’t get diagnosed correctly at first because the symptoms were so unique.

Instead of infecting the young and old, it seemed to have targeted the population who should have been the strongest. This strain was killing young, healthy men and women at their prime. Patients experienced a quick onset of a high fever, a wet cough that brought up blood, and their faces would turn blue. Within 24 to 48 hours, many would succumb to the illness.

Treatment at the time was varied. Young doctors better trained in medicine had enlisted in the war, leaving a shortage of them throughout the nation. The Army saw quarantine as the best way to fight the disease. Susan Debra Sykes Berry, who wrote a thesis on the pandemic in Kansas City, explained, “Quarantine was one of the best public health measures, and most Army doctors were aware that a 21-day period was the ideal.”

A Naval hospital in California in November 1918
takes care of influenza patients

Many people used remedies spanning back to Egypt and wore onions and garlic around their necks. Some believed eating them was even more effective. Non-smokers began smoking, thinking it would choke out the disease. Others believed eating yeast would do the trick, and many ended up with terrible stomach aches as a result. The Kansas City Star reported, "Under the negro practice, night sweats can be cured by placing a rusty ax edge under the bed." 

Well, these are certainly interesting theories...

In truth, the best remedy for influenza was nurse care which included drinking fluids, keeping warm and trying to lower the patient’s temperature. Many doctors recommended aspirin or quinine and ordered patients to stay home.

List of recommended remedies for the flu published
in the Kansas City Star October 6, 1918

Even as the flu ravaged through Kansas City by October 6, there were no orders issued by the Health Board except for “asking” places where people congregated (such as theaters, churches and streetcars) to disinfect surfaces at night. They offered suggestions such as people should stay out of crowds, keep bowels active with laxatives, get plenty of sleep, and keep warm by proper dressing, just to name a few.

Since the Health Board in Kansas City wasn’t leading, an unexpected group stood up and demanded action. The Chamber of Commerce led by Bernard Parsons asked for a meeting with the mayor and Health Board. Closing businesses to the public would directly hurt the Chamber, but they argued that the lives of Kansas Citians were more important.

Businessman R.A. Long said, “I’d feel like a criminal, personally, if I were a businessman and insisted on keeping open in a time like this. If the epidemic grips your own household you will then commence to know what human life means as compared to money.”

Headline in the Kansas City Star from
October 7, 1918

It was agreed after the meeting on October 7th to forbid gatherings of more than 20 people and they closed schools the next day.

Sound familiar?

On the Kansas side of the state line, the mayor took swifter action and closed schools, churches, and theaters. All public gatherings of all kinds were prohibited until “after the danger from the disease has passed.” For the most part, Kansas never lifted their quarantine.

The minute that there was a decrease in cases in a 24-hour period, Kansas City resumed talks to lift the ban. To no surprise, saloons were still open and quite crowded. Because the Democratic Machine was directly involved in saloons and also controlled the police, they went about business as usual knowing that no action would be taken against them. Many even boasted signs at the back of bars claiming the flu could be fought with quinine and whiskey, but the Kansas City Star noted, “The saloons continued to work extra bartenders to accommodate crowds- not for advised quinine- but for tall steins of ‘suds.’”

It is true that whiskey was seen to be a remedy to the flu. Many people claimed that people who regularly drank whiskey could avoid getting sick.

That's the polar opposite advice I would give to any twenty-something today. Like, if you want to get sick, drink a ton of whiskey at a party.

1899 advertisement of Kansas City's J.Rieger & Co. whiskey
claiming it was a "good thing for the grip." Courtesy KC Journal

Local companies like mail-order whiskey house J. Rieger & Co. followed the trend and advertised their product was a "good thing for the grip."  The resurrected J. Rieger & Co. in the East Bottoms has wisely dropped the company's prior claim of using whiskey as medicine and has used 21st century technology to make hand sanitizer during the Covid-19 pandemic.

Now that is "very good for the grip" - and germs in general.

In any case, just one week after placing a ban on crowds (which was not enforced) on October 7th, 1918, the Health Board and the mayor lifted it despite the glaring evidence that most physicians didn’t agree with the decision. Major Dell D. Dutton with the Red Cross stated, “I consider it very unwise to lift the ban. The history of other epidemics shows this to be the critical time. To lift the ban now is to invite the return of the epidemic.”

Ahhh.... the parallels....

Health Board president W.P. Motley responded that if lifting the ban was a mistake, “we can rectify it later on” while another man present warned, “A dead man cannot accept apologies.”

113 cases of the flu were reported the next day.

Schools in Kansas City, Mo. decided to remain closed for a week longer despite the lift on the ban October 7th. 

A postcard of the new General Hospital
at 24th and Gillham in 1908
Courtesy Missouri Valley Special Collections

Two days later, Missouri's governor Frederick D. Gardner issued a Proclamation
"appealing to the people of the State to take every possible precaution against the spread of influenza."

On a side note... just over two weeks later, he issued another Proclamation announcing "Sunday School Day."

So much for taking every precaution, Governor.

That also sounds strangely familiar.

On October 15th, 106 new cases were reported at General Hospital followed by 113 the next day.

The Chamber of Commerce was irate when the ban was lifted and saw a growing problem in the streets of Kansas City. They cited that neighboring communities were still under quarantine, so those people were coming to Kansas City for entertainment. That was always the case in the West Bottoms since the state of Kansas was dry of libations. Boss Tom Pendergast made a lot of his money operating saloons along "the wettest block in the world" where liquor stores, brothels and bars operated steps away from the state line. 

Cartoon in the Kansas City Times, October 19, 1918

And when you're still ordered to be under quarantine and you wanted a little fun and a cheap drink, men in Missouri were ready to serve you.

Head of contagious diseases in Kansas City Dr. A.J. Gannon claimed pressure (likely from the political bosses), “The responsibility of preventing [the flu’s] spread should be assumed by the individual.” 

The concerns of the Chamber worked to change their minds; a second ban closing nonessential businesses was ordered on October 17th but exempted “war industries, butcher shops, grocery and drug stores.”

In turn, the Chamber of Commerce- the heart of Kansas City business- emphasized there would be "heavy losses in the event the ban was removed, but [the Chamber of Commerce] emphasized the fact that the lives of Kansas City citizens should be placed above personal gain."

So in 1918, businesses with vested interest were the steady voice of reason in Kansas City.

Digest this. The businesses of Kansas City were begging for the city to keep businesses under quarantine- city officials influenced by politics were the ones considering otherwise.

A headline in the Inter Ocean from 1907 

An editorial the following day in the Kansas City Star was critical of those in charge, specifically Mr. Motley, president of the Health Board. They wrote, “Throughout the epidemic, he has acted much more like a representative of the interests that would have put their own profits above human lives, rather than like the guardian of public health.”

Even as the Health Board was under scrutiny, they continued to mitigate with denial. Head of contagious diseases, Dr. A.J. Gannon, claimed in a statement to the Kansas City Star, "I do not believe it necessary to put the ban back." The second ban was lifted two days earlier on October 14th. He continued by stating, "The responsibility of preventing [the flu's] spread should be assumed by the individual."

That's an interesting claim.

Pretty unbelievable claims were printed in area newspapers during the pandemic. The African-American newspaper The Kansas City Sun printed, "Those optimistic colored folks who insist that race prejudice is often a blessing are pointing with pride to the fact that the influenza has almost completely ignored the Negro."

That was far from true, and death certificates prove this. By October 19th, the Old City Hospital where blacks were treated had 56 cases and 15 had reportedly died. We also have to consider that many blacks in the city weren't able to get proper medical care, so deaths from the flu may have been written off as something else altogether.

A portion of a death certificate from Kansas City of an African American's
cause of death listed as "Spanish influenza." 

In midst of the pandemic, the slums of Kansas City were under a close eye. Urban planning during this time wasn't even a consideration, so it wasn't uncommon to see shanties in the shadows of large, impressive buildings indicating progress.This was just the case of McClure Flats, one of Kansas City's most infamous slums.

Located at 19th and McGee, McClure Flats housed the poorest of the city. In 1909, the Kansas City Journal reported, "They're bathing less in the McClure Flats. Private bathtubs have always been an unknown luxury there. . . an investigating committee last summer estimated that there were approximately 10,000 people in the city who had not the use of a bathtub."

So it's pretty certain that by 1918 these conditions hadn't improved. These three-room apartments that had 125 units were certainly unsanitary, yet African-Americans, Mexicans and other immigrants continued to live in them. Historian Karla Deel notes in her book Storied & Scandalous Kansas City,  "One-story tenements offered dirt outdoor privies and no running water, and most housing was in a state of decay."

When city inspectors on the track of the flu pandemic made their way to McClure Flats, they found abhorrent conditions, including 94 families living in 138 rooms. Children were said to play near the garbage of the waste from flu victims.

The conditions in this area of time really shine a light to how the city's poorest would have suffered during this era.

Back alley of McClure Flats (looking north) - photograph taken in 1912.
 From the third annual report of the board of public welfare. 

The truth was- a lot of Kansas City's high poverty areas were the perfect breeding ground for a virus. Even though the city found the area "unfit for habitation," people continued to live at McClure Flats until the place was bulldozed in 1919.

The height of flu cases occurred in October, but the damage to the city continued due to mismanagement by city officials. The death toll was on the rise, but maintaining the order over a long period of time became difficult. 

The Chamber of Commerce responded on October 25th, "Every man and woman in Kansas City will have to help fight this epidemic and fight it with all their might. It is no time to slack."

Two weeks later, the mayor seemed to think everything back to normal- even as cases continued to stack up. Inconsistencies in Kansas City plagued their overall response.

By November 8th, 1918- 21 days after the second ban was implemented- Mayor Cowgill commented that the present ban “is needlessly hampering businesses.” He then lifted the ban and only required that streetcars still limit capacity. Theaters reopened and crowds went back to normal on the streets.

But the city wasn't ready to tackle a deadly virus even then.

  

A streetcar on an unidentified street in 1915
Courtesy Missouri Valley Special Collections

November 11th welcomed Armistice Day, and Kansas City had over 100,000 citizens crowding the streets of the city in celebration of the end of the war. One week later, schools reopened for the first time in five weeks.

  

The biggest problem was that cases were still being reported at a steady pace, but due to the want to stimulate the economy and the Democratic Machine’s pocketbooks, politics took a front seat to public health.

  

When new cases spiked yet again on November 26th, it was attributed to schools being reopened, but evidence shows it was the overall ban being lifted that likely caused the increase. The next day, Dr. A.J. Gannon was fired and schools closed once again on Nov. 30. The day before, a record 414 cases were reported in one day. The damage had been done.

The desperation of hospitals for healthy workers was still a major problem in Kansas City. Dr. William J. Thompkins at the Old City Hospital saw that the all-white hospital across the street was being crushed under the pressures of sick staff and overcrowding.

African American nurses trained at the Old City Hospital are in the black row of this photo.
Those sitting include the doctors overseeing their training in October 1918. Dr. Thompkins sits in the center.
Photo courtesy of The Kansas City Sun

In December, The Kansas City Star reported, "Black nurses trained by Dr. William J. Thompkins, super of the Colored Hospital #2, volunteered to treat patients at General Hospital, and their offer was accepted."

If this acceptance doesn't tell you how desperate city health officials were in a very segregated Kansas City, then I don't know what will.

A 1918 photograph taken at 9th and Locust

It was clear the misguided leadership of city officials created confusion and caused more harm in the long-run. No one knew who to listen to, and their decisions cost human lives. 59 deaths from the flu were reported on December 10th, and quickly Kansas City was becoming one of the deadliest cities in the nation. Children under 16 were ordered to stay home from church, school and theaters and by December 16th, saloons were ordered temporarily closed. It’s unclear if these orders were ever completely carried out by the police. Schools didn’t reopen until December 30th.

  

On December 23rd just in time for Christmas, the city lifted their bans and Dr. Bullock proclaimed, “The epidemic is over if the people will continue to observe precautions against large crowds and follow the personal preventative measures.” In that same breath, he projected cases would likely rise after Christmas. For all intents and purposes, life by Christmas in Kansas City was back to normal- minus the large number of cases of influenza still circulating the city.

In the last four months of 1918, 1,865 Kansas Citians died from what was coined the Spanish Flu, but it's hard to know if that number is even close to accurate. Deaths labeled as simply pneumonia, which could have been onset by the Spanish Flu, may or may not have been counted in the numbers. When cases finally evaporated in Spring 1919, there were over 11,000 cases and around 2,300 deaths in Kansas City. The number of deaths was estimated to be at least 50 million worldwide with about 675,000 occurring in the United States.

Kansas City was one of the hardest hit cities in the country with more cases per capita than New York City, Chicago, and Seattle. Kansas City was also the only major city in the entire country forced to close schools three times during the 1918 flu pandemic due to lifting bans too soon- most closed twice. St. Louis had one of the lowest cases in the nation due to adhering to a strict quarantine. Division in politics and how to respond to this pandemic in 1918 cost the city greatly.

Even recently, St. Louis was praised for their response to the 1918 flu - and Kansas City still remains at the bottom of the largest fifty cities due to their lack of sticking to a quarantine over 100 years ago.

In the end, history matters. If we don’t learn from history, we are doomed to repeat it. The 1918 flu pandemic was lost in the pages of history, rarely referenced by people even with how devastating it truly was. Scientists haven’t forgotten; they reference these responses as a lesson in how to best preserve human lives and respond effectively in the direst of circumstances.

* * * * * * * 

A shortened version of this story was originally published in the Martin City Telegraph

** Check out my FREE history podcast with 610 Sports Radio Personality Bob Fescoe called Kansas City: 2 States: 1 Story! It's FREE! Don't be scared to try out the format of a podcast. It's as simple as going to a website and listening! If you download it, you can listen later at any time!  To listen to the podcast on the 1918 Flu Pandemic in KC, click here!

Please consider 'liking' my page "The New Santa Fe Trailer" so you don't miss any of my writing! I post all my writing from the The Martin City Telegraph  and from my blog on there. Click Here!

Recommended Reading: 

Karla Deel.  Storied & Scandalous Kansas City: A history of corruption, mischief and a whole lot of booze. Guilford: Globe Pequot Press. https://www.amazon.com/Storied-Scandalous-Kansas-City-Corruption-ebook/dp/B07X8T2BV9/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=karla+deel&qid=1587707674&sr=8-1

Susan Debra Sykes Berry. “Politics and Pandemic in 1918 Kansas City.” https://mospace.umsystem.edu/xmlui/bitstream/handle/10355/7521/SykesBerryThesisPolPan.pdf?sequence=1

John M. Berry. The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History. Penguin Press. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000OCXFWE/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0

Kansas City's Terrifying Tornado in 1886 Claims Dozens of Lives

Courthouse damage from the tornado on May 11, 1886

No one could anticipate the destruction that would rumble within the sky and wreak havoc on blossoming Kansas City. When a population of 132,000 prepared to go to work and school that day, there was only the slightest risk of rain; the clouds had opened up to a pure blue sky with a light wind.

Courthouse at 2nd and Main before the cyclone

On May 11, 1886, there was a change rumbling in the distance- a change most couldn’t have ever predicted. By 10:30 AM, there was cause for concern. It happened quite quickly; the sun had been shining until darkness enveloped the land block-by-block. A curious tinge in the atmosphere colored the sky into a murky green.

Time wore on the sky, changing the coloring from a deep gray to a dense black. Clouds didn’t move in one direction; rather, they scurried one way and the other, a rage mixed into their motives.

First the wind came with distant peals of thunder.

Then, rain and hail covered the downtown streets.

And something was about to permeate the skies and unleash terror. What it was- what we would call this today- could be argued. Regardless, there was no time to prepare and no weather radios, tornado sirens or Doppler radar to track the path of an impending storm.

Citizens learned of weather by looking up into the green sky and identifying the humidity in the air.

People could sense the calamity – citizens began rushing in from the streets and crowded inside stores, homes, and office buildings. As people traveled about their business, something changed. Within minutes, this peaceful spring day was replaced by death and destruction throughout the heart of the city.

Another image of the Courthouse at 2nd and Main
Courtesy Missouri Valley Special Collections

As the sky became densely clouded, the Jackson County Courthouse at the northeast corner of 2^nd and Main was business as usual. The building was originally constructed as the Nelson Hotel and was taken over by the Courthouse in 1872. Forming somewhere over the south bank of the Missouri River, the swirling storm quickly transformed into what we would likely call a full-blown tornado. So much water was collected from the river that some at the time called this event “a hurricane.”

Without much warning, the tornado made it onto land and into a direct path toward the courthouse. The Kansas City Star reported, “The force of the wind seemed to be confined to a limited district, and it sought, with almost human intelligence, the weakest buildings for its work of death.”

Because the building was constructed for a completely different business, it was said that many beams and supporting structures were removed to make for larger spaces. The courthouse was no match for the winds that barreled through at 2^nd and Main. Within seconds, the top two floors of the courthouse were blown into unrecognizable pieces. Two victims were claimed in its fury almost immediately: deputy sheriff Henry Dougherty and deputy recorder William Hedges.

Dep. Sheriff Henry Dougherty
Courtesy Kansas City Star

Henry Dougherty had been standing in a large area on the first floor as a colleague commented that the storm was indeed a fierce one. Dougherty responded, “Yes, and this is the worst place we could be in.” 

Boy, was he right. At that very moment, the roof gave in and the terror began.

Instead of “duck and cover,” people ran in every direction. Dep. Henry Dougherty was no exception to this; he ran across the street and was quickly buried by falling bricks from the courthouse. When his body was discovered at 4:30 later that afternoon, he was crushed beyond recognition.

Deputy recorder William Hedges was killed as the debris fell within the structure. His little brother, Edward – also a deputy recorder at the courthouse- died four days later from his injuries. His leg had been “snapped like a reed" and thoughts of amputation quickly died as he succumbed to his injuries.

Ironically trapped within the basement were five prisoners held in the courthouse. All escaped the wreckage and all but one returned later that night. Amazed at their survival and honesty, Kansas Citians brought cigars and fruit to them later to congratulate them for their escape. . . and return.

Tornado damage at 4th and Main

Thousands of residents visited the wrecked building to see how bad it was. Much like today, people clamored to get a front-row seat at the sites ravaged on this fateful May day.

The courthouse had $10,000 in “cyclone insurance.” County business would never resume at this location after the path of destruction took those two upper floors. The insurance was used to build their next courthouse at 5^th and Oak in 1892.

Smith & Moffatt's, taken cir. 1885

Directly across the street from the courthouse was Smith & Moffatt’s, a tea, coffee and spices wholesale dealer that had been in business since 1884. As the cyclone steamed forward in its southwestern path, it smashed directly into the coffee and spice company owned by Frank O. Smith and Edwin A. Moffatt. The owners were standing in their offices on the first floor as tragedy struck. As the winds ripped through the building, water poured within its structure.

Smith & Moffatt’s was so badly destroyed during the cyclone that the newspaper described it as “overturned.”

Proprietor Frank Smith was killed when a lead pencil drove directly through his heart, thrust there in the power of the gusts. One worker, John Miller, was buried in the rubble for 45 minutes and remarkably escaped without injury. A total of four men weren’t as lucky. One of them, John Kane, employed as a coffee roaster, was crushed to death within the debris.

Edwin Moffatt

William Roome watched from the confines of the courthouse jail as the tornado tore down its southwestern path. 

Mr. Roome had been an employee of Smith & Moffatt’s, tasked with being a debt collector. One year earlier, Roome was charged with embezzlement when he got drunk one night and spent some of the money he had collected for the company. When he was unable to pay it back, Mr. Edwin Moffatt worked to throw the book at him. He was sentenced to six months in jail.

On the day of the tornado, Roome had two months left to serve. As he was able to get free from the rubble, Mr. Roome ran straight for the debris of his former employer and saw men struggling to get free. Without much thought, Roome began digging out men whose cries he could hear. The first man he was able to set free was none other than Mr. Moffatt – the man who had made sure he paid the price in prison.

The following day, Edwin Moffatt went to the jail and asked for William Roome, his embezzler-turned-hero, to be set free. With tears in his eyes, Moffatt was able to return the favor of his life with a shortened prison sentence.

Smith & Moffatt's after the 1886 tornado. Image courtesy of John Dawson

The Old Santa Fe Stage Line building just east of Smith & Moffatt’s spice mills was destroyed completely; it had been a landmark in Kansas City, built in 1858 by Mechanic’s Bank.

Those who experienced the terrors of the tornado tell of “seeing parts of buggies, drays and signs flying through the air like straws . . . carrying death and destruction in their path.”

Advertisement from May 1886 for Smith & Moffatt
Courtesy Kansas City Times

As rain and hail were followed with gusts of wind over 85 miles per hour, the tornado made its way toward the Kansas City Overall Factory at 110 W. 3^rd St. Owned by brothers Julien and Joseph Haar, the factory was known to turn out pants and overalls to sell into the marketplace. The three story building housed Graham Paper Co. on the first and second floors while the overall factory occupied the top floor.

Graham Paper Co.’s employees were able to escape, but the “unfortunates in the upper story were borne down in the ruins.”

On any given day, the overall factory employed twenty-five women. Like many of the buildings that booming Kansas City built in haste, this three story structure was not built for durability, even though records report that the walls were at least eighteen inches thick. Forewoman Mrs. Ina Bowes was crushed to death along with four other employees. One man named Will R. Towne was killed as the overall factory’s third floor tumbled to the ground.

Upon examination after the storm of the overall factory, mortar between the brick was deemed “absolutely useless” and “ the bricks might as well have been piled up without mortar.”

Haar Kansas City Overall Factory is just a pile of rubble and a gap
between buildings after the tornado. Courtesy John Dawson

As the storm moved on, the muddy streets of Kansas City turned into small rivers as hail pelted the devastation below. The tornado continued on toward its deadliest path.

This Tuesday morning had been like any other that warm spring day- a day enjoyed by children in schoolyards. It wasn’t until 10:30 AM when a hint of a storm even came. That’s when an “ominous greenish black cloud appeared.”

Fourteen year-old Frank Askew was in charge of ringing the bell at recess for Lathrop School at 8^thand May St. The three-story school had been in operation for sixteen years, serving the elite Quality Hill community and the offspring of Kansas City's finest families. Just a few years’ earlier, it had been under examination for not being structurally sound. The school ignored the warnings and classes continued amidst speculation.

Wind howled from the southeast. The storm’s center gathered in the northeast and traveled westward just north of the city.  A mass of green-tinged clouds appeared as two centers joined and “came straight for the city.” Wind changed to the northwest.

Map with overlay showing the locations of the primary
damage of the 1886 tornado

Frank rang the bell for students to come back in from recess, the changing skies foreshadowing what was about to begin. Some students ran home while others sought shelter with their teachers inside the building. When they huddled inside their classrooms around 11:00 AM, it was so dark they couldn’t see across the room.

Miss Fannie McGee, a teacher in the middle school room, could sense the sensitivity of the situation. She asked the principal, Mr. Ripley, twice permission to dismiss school. He thought the rain would overtake the children and they were safer with them inside the school.

Thus, most of the children stayed. Younger children were taken to the first floor classroom of Miss Fanny McGee. As the winds intensified and disaster was looming, Fanny dismissed the frightened children. Under the cloud of whimpers, the littlest of Lathrop School began to scatter in terror.

As the youngest moved in different directions, it was quickly noticed that the bell tower above had begun to sway. Other students followed suit of the younger children and ran from the rooms- a morbid mistake.  On the second floor, Frank Askew and two others were hiding under desks when 6^th grade teacher Ella Patterson screamed, “Jump boys, jump!” The ceiling bulged down and the floor buckled under them as Frank jumped into the lower level classroom amidst debris. Children fell into the basement as the middle section of the school caved inward, crashing the bell tower and center roof down upon screaming children that did survive.

On the 50^th anniversary of the 1886 tornado, Frank Askew recalled, “I have awful recollection of those children throwing up their hands and starting for the door when that whole mass from the upper room fell through and enveloped them.”

As the announcement of those dead commenced, some were still not identified from the wreckage at Lathrop School, including an “unknown boy, dark hair and eyes, dressed in a black jacket and pants and gray stockings.” Another girl was so mutilated that no one recognized her, and her body laid between L.T. Moore and Robbie Sprague.

Lathrop School after the May 11, 1886 tornado. Courtesy Missouri Valley Special Collections

It was reported that “the tears and cries of mothers of all classes and ranks in life were mingled together” when Kansas City learned of this horrifying tragedy.

"In the Natatorium" where many victims
were brought to be identified.
Courtesy Kansas City Star

Latinas Thomas (L.T.) Moore had been a resident of Kansas City since 1869. He was partner of Bullene, Moore and Emery which would later become known as Emery, Bird, Thayer & Co. (EBT).  L.T. was father to one daughter and two sons and had tragically lost his wife in 1879. His son, Roland died of diphtheria in April 1885 and was placed in a vault at Union Cemetery.

Calamity struck L.T. once more when he received the news that his only surviving son, named L.T., Jr. was crushed when the Lathrop School fell. Devastated, L.T. left three days after the tornado with two caskets to bury “the bodies of his two little sons” next to his wife in Georgetown, Ky.

In true Kansas City fashion, people from all backgrounds emerged from their hiding places and ran to assist firemen, police and doctors as they advanced to Lathrop School to dig out the screaming children.

As the timbers and bricks were pulled away, the sight revealed at Lathrop School was sickening. Little girls lay piled “in straggling heaps, pressed down and crushed by tons of bricks and broken timbers.”

May 11, 1886 drew thousands of onlookers to Lathrop School 

The night before this devastating tornado, two best friends, twelve-year-old Josie Mastin and ten-year-old Bessie Inscho had spent the night together. They were said to be inseparable friends, and when the eleven year-olds were found in the rubble, they were in “a loving embrace.” Because of their connection, the families decided to bury the two little girls in the same grave at Union Cemetery.

After the storm passed, the little brother of tornado victim Mary Lambert went to claim his sister’s books and his own from the destruction. He was so overwhelmed with sadness that when he found his sister’s “broken, battered straw hat” mixed in with the bricks and timbers, he gave his favorite ball to a boy nearby and swore to never play with it again.

Fifteen children were crushed and killed at Lathrop School, a catastrophe striking the hearts of some of Kansas City’s leading families. Over twenty children who survived the tumbling building were trapped under tons of timbers and the belfry that once stood proudly in the center of the school. The bell itself was found twenty yards away from where it had chimed just minutes earlier.

Damage at 14th and Oak. Courtesy John Dawson

The school board denied reports that Lathrop School had been condemned, and they claimed that they made efforts to reinforce the tower. Because of this devastating event, all bell towers at schools across Kansas City were removed.

Just about thirty minutes after it had unleashed its fury on the city, the weather drastically cleared and a light mist fell. Streets had been turned into tiny rivers- and even the deep grading of the roads couldn’t keep flooding out as the sun returned to the sky.

The Hannibal Bridge suffered greatly during this event. 170 feet of the bridge on the Clay Co. side lifted up and was thrown into the Missouri River. Iron bars two and a half inches thick snapped in two. Sixty trains per day used this gateway bridge for travel, and repair on it began almost immediately as to not further disrupt commerce. Telegraph lines were also interrupted as they were broken into pieces throughout the metropolis.

Damage of the Hannibal Bridge. Courtesy Missouri Valley Special Collections

It wasn’t hard to see the damage as one drifted through the heart of the city. Broadway from the riverfront to 10^th St. had twisted telephone poles blocking the roadway. Glass fronts of stores on the east side of the street between 9^th and 10^th were completely shattered. Numerous single family homes were blown to pieces.

Damage of a home at 15th and Wyandotte
Courtesy John Dawson

Two final victims were discovered amidst the wreckage. Twenty year-old John Flaherty had been out in the elements during the heart of the terror at the corner of St. Louis and Santa Fe Street. As the wind howled and ripped apart structures around him, a falling flagstaff off of Long Bros. Wholesale Grocery struck him in the head and killed him as witnesses cowered in fear.

Forty-year-old John McDermott, a stonemason, had sought cover under scaffolding near a quarry at 18^th and Woodland. The scaffolding fell on top of him and pinned him as the rain poured from the sky. He drowned amidst the flood waters.

This tornado remains as one of the deadliest tornadoes in the area’s history even though it was far from the most powerful. Just three years earlier, a cyclone swept a large path of damage through the emerging city yet the loss of life was minimal. Kansas City’s oldest residents proclaimed that this weather event was the worst they had ever seen.

Front page headline May 12, 1886
of the Kansas City Times

One business, Parker’s Gallery, decided to make some money off the tragedy. They sold photographs of the ruins of the courthouse, Lathrop School, overall factory and spice factory for 25 cents apiece within days of the destruction.

The Kansas City Star reported that the cyclone “leveled buildings as though they were only eggshells.”

But what exactly unleashed onto Kansas City?

“It was not a cyclone, but a hurricane,” The Kansas City Times reported.

What?!

I’m not sure what this could exactly mean, but a hurricane in the Heart of America seems unlikely.

Straight winds? Maybe.

A tornado? Quite possibly. With winds reported at just 80 miles per hour, this cyclone would measure as a EF-0 on the Fujita Scale.

Can you imagine? Thirty people- half of them under the age of 14- died in this deadly disaster.

“It was a tempest, a hurricane, straight and direct, but furious and deadly as a cyclone would have been,” the Kansas City Times announced. Some even described the storm as having no circular movement.

A scientist later claimed it was “a wind storm accompanied by electrical disturbances.”

Resident Dr. J.M. Ford professed that he carefully studied storms. He believed the wind didn’t blow over 80 miles per hour- and buildings should have been built to withstand at least 125 miles per hour. He said, “The storm was merely a high wind, and but for the loss of life would not have attracted much attention.”

Today, it is widely accepted that, although likely weak, this was a tornado.

In 1886, the only warning people had of impending weather was by keeping one eye at the sky. Sirens, advanced warnings and tornado drills in schools were far from creation. The Kansas City Times wrote, “Never in all her history did Kansas City suffer such a disaster as that which the elements hurled upon her.” 

Elmwood Cemetery marker dedicated to ten victims
of the 1886 cyclone buried there

But this horrific event snatched at least thirty lives from the growing population of Kansas City and lived on as a vivid memory for all who were a part of this fateful day.

Today, we are blessed to have the technology and proper procedures in place to give advance warnings to ensure so many lives are never lost again.

***Do you love my writing? Then you need to subscribe to my FREE podcast with 610 Sports radio personality Bob Fescoe! Click here to take a listen to Kansas City: 2 States, 1 Story! 

***Make sure you go to Facebook and search "The New Santa Fe Trailer" and LIKE my page so you don't miss any of these stories of the history of Kansas City!

1886 Tornado Victim’s List*

Courthouse

Henry Dougherty

Edward F. Hedges

William Hedges

Kansas City Overall Factory

Ina Bowles

Nellie Cavenaugh

Mina Crane

Catherine Creeden

Jennie Fitzgerald

William R. Towne

Smith & Moffatt’s

Samuel Black

Henry Jackson

John Kane

Frank O. Smith

Lathrop School

May Bishop

Nellie Ellis

Edna Evans

Bessie Inscho

Ruth Jameson

Martin Jones

Mary Y. Lambert

Josie Mastin

L.T. Moore, Jr.

Mattie Moore

Edith L. Patch

Julia Case Ranney

Robert Sprague

Richard Terry

Streets of the City

John McDermott

John Flaherty

*This list is the closest I could compile through various records, as no formal list of all the victims exists.