An 1880s Soap Opera Saga Captivated Kansas City

June 15, 1886 drawing in the Kansas City Times of the Carlile attempted murder. 
Colorization by Jamie Russell

On that warm Spring day at 9^th and Main, the streetcars rushed by the Diamond Building. In 1886, a lawyer watched from a distance as the editor of the Kansas City Times purchased a few papers from a street vendor at the Junction. As the editor jumped on the streetcar No. 2 heading eastbound with a half dozen other passengers, the lawyer on a mission followed him, gripping his Smith and Wesson in his jacket pocket.

The Junction in 1900. Image courtesy Missouri Valley
Special Collections, KCPL

He had vengeance on his mind and would stop at nothing to get it. Dr. Morrison Munford searched for a seat on the streetcar as it began to move forward. At 5:15pm, the lawyer stealthily crept behind him and climbed onto the open doorway of the streetcar, drew out his weapon, and aimed for the unassuming editor.

“You have traduced my wife!” the shooter screamed as he fired his first shot.

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William Dorsey Carlile was born in 1851 in Virginia, the son of a prominent senator named John Snyder Carlile. His mother was said to have been a close relative of Stonewall Jackson- a fact that Carlile proudly told anyone who would listen.

Interestingly enough, William's own father, John, seemed to have a difficult upbringing that sounds quite familiar. John's family always insisted that his father, Jonathan, died when he was quite young- but this was not true. According to the Library of Virginia, William's grandfather Jonathan Carlile "was an abusive alcoholic who squandered his wife's inheritance and whose conduct forced the family to move frequently."

So, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

John Snyder Carlile (1817-1878)
Courtesy Library of Congress

William D. Carlile attended West Virginia University and later law school in Ann Arbor, Michigan. After serving in the legislature back in Virginia, W.D. Carlile moved to Chicago and became a quite successful lawyer.

In 1875, Carlile met his future wife, Mary Saville Foster at a wedding they both attended and married shortly thereafter in her hometown of Evanston, Ill. She was the daughter of a founder of Chicago and came from “good stock.” Carlile later insisted that he tried to back out of the wedding, stating he didn't love her, but her family allegedly convinced him to proceed.

What a lovely start to wedded bliss.

Due to poor health, Carlile often traveled to California and Colorado where the climate was touted for being pleasurable for those with sickness. On a trip through Kansas City in 1879, Carlile set his sights on relocating to the growing city.

Early accounts in his adoptive town show that he fit in quite well and made friends quickly. He ran for prosecutor of Jackson Co. in 1884 under the democratic ticket but was unsuccessful. He welcomed two children, Marjorie in 1882 and Alonzo in 1885. One other child died in infancy.

All was well until Carlile’s path ran across a young, beautiful woman named Sallie Crute.

A photograph of the East Bottoms in 1900 shows development of land. Photo taken from Scarritt Point
Courtesy Missouri Valley Special Collections, KCPL

In 1879, the death of one man set the stage of all the action that would follow.

As crowds of newcomers moved into Kansas City, land prices were on the rise. The East Bottoms was slowly growing with new businesses.

A wood hewer in the East Bottoms named William Crute left a widow and three children to split his 280 acres of prime real estate. His widow, Sarah remarried and found herself in uncomfortable circumstances. Sarah voiced her concerns to her lawyer, W.D. Carlile. The newspapers reported that her relationship with her husband wasn’t the best, so she sent her teenage daughter Sallie J. Crute to live with her lawyer’s family at 13th and Wyoming.

Sallie’s age was always in question, but she would have been around eighteen at the time. Before she moved into the Carlile home, Sallie was given “80 acres of the best of her father’s land.” W.D. Carlile’s intentions are unclear- was he trying to protect a young client, or was he trying to rip her off? Accounts on both sides muddy the waters, but it is clear that Sallie lived with the family and became close to Carlile’s wife.

In 1884, Sallie was given control of her estate and gave Carlile power of attorney. Sallie’s mother was growing suspicious of his intentions, especially when she found out that her own inheritance had been sold by Carlile without her permission. 

The Grand Court of the Palace Hotel,
San Francisco in 1895

In 1886, Sallie’s mother arrived at the Carlile home in order to try to talk some sense into her daughter who was still living with them. While trying to talk sense into her, Mrs. Mary Carlisle allegedly burst into the room and ordered her to leave the home. On the street, Mrs. Carlile screamed, “We’ll have you in the insane asylum in three months!” Sallie’s mother became convinced that both Mr. and Mrs. Carlile were trying to steal their inheritance from under them.

Despite her mother’s warnings, Sallie ignored her and continued on a path destined for destruction. In March 1886, Carlile bought two tickets at the Union Depot to California- a place he oftentimes ventured to for his health. His companion, however, was not his wife.

It was the “beautiful young girl of easy manners and a good education.” It was Sallie J. Crute. Her mother had begged her not to go, stating that her reputation would forever be ruined. Regardless of the warnings, Sallie and William Carlile boarded a train and landed in San Francisco. There, Carlile told people that he was a retired banker in ill health traveling with his niece.

May 13, 1886 front page headline 
introducing the scandal
in the Kansas City Times

For six weeks, the couple lived at the Palace Hotel. Little did Sallie know that her mother had hired a private investigator to locate them. Possibly in retaliation for taking her teenaged daughter away, Sallie’s mother was ready to ruin William Carlile’s reputation.

She sat down for an interview with the Kansas City Times before Carlile and her daughter returned from California.

In it, Sallie’s mother claimed that her daughter told her “Carlile was in the habit of romping with her and his wife.”

Translate that 1880s information however you want…

She went on to tell the Kansas City Times, “I care for nothing of the land- she can have that- but I want my girl back to me pure.”

This story and its awful aftermath was posted as a full two-page expose story in the Kansas City Times that showcased the scandalous story.

William D. Carlile, described as a 35-year-old “dapper, sallow-complected little man” arrived back in Kansas City with Sallie six weeks later well-aware of the expose in the newspaper- and he was irate.  He mulled over what to do with his wife and his friends, but the damage had been done. It was said he asked the editor of the newspaper, 49-year-old Confederate vet Dr. Morrison Munford to print a retraction.

Dr. Morrison Munford (1842-1892)

Dr. Munford refused.

On May 12, 1886, W.D. Carlile marched down to the Junction at 9th and Delaware in front of the Kansas City Times office with retribution on his mind.

Hidden in his jacket pocket was a loaded pistol. As he watched Dr. Morrison Munford, editor for the Times, jump on the streetcar with his friend, E.L. Martin (founder of Martin City) at 5:15pm, he was quick to follow in their paths.

Before Munford could even sit down, Carlile withdrew his revolver and shot into the busy streetcar and struck Munford in his side. As Dr. Munford turned toward Carlile in confusion, Carlile fired a second shot that hit 16-year-old Jennie Streeter in the left breast. Luckily, her corset saved her from any grave injury.

As the passengers on the streetcar screamed and sought shelter, Dr. Munford reached in his own pocket for his Colt revolver. Before he had the opportunity to shoot at his assassin, Carlile jumped from the moving streetcar and fired two more shots. One of them hit John E. Hale, a 50-year-old bookkeeper in the face just below the right eye.

The Junction at 9th and Main in 1890, 
the site of the shooting.
The Kansas City Times building can be seen

Carlile was caught by police before he could even cross the street. He was brought to the police station and charged with “assault with an intent to kill.”

The Kansas City Times claimed that Carlile was known for this type of mischief, stating “He believes the revolver as a means of settling all differences, no matter how trivial.” The Kansas City Times claimed that all information printed in the story a few weeks earlier was true. They declared the article was to “warn the public against purchasing Crute’s lands” and to “unmask a smiling villain.”

Just a few days later, Carlile’s wife, described as “medium stature and very plump,” entered into the jail and paid his bail. Allegedly, she got the money from none other than Sarah J. Crute.

Miraculously, all of Carlile’s victims survived the shooting, and after paying $100 to the courts and pleading guilty to assault, he was free to go.

He knew he was no longer an upstanding citizen of Kansas City, so he was quickly on the road and ready to wreak havoc elsewhere.

June 15, 1886 drawing of the attack 
at the Junction.
Courtesy Kansas City Times

Before he left town, he sold 36 acres of Sallie’s land in the East Bottoms for $43,200.

Carlile moved back to Chicago with his wife and two children. . .

with beautiful Sallie J. Crute in tow.

By March 1887, William Carlile had left Chicago and was buying up property in Napa, Ca. Included in this property was a ranch outside of Napa and one of the biggest houses in town known as the Yount mansion purchased for $15,000. It had been built a few years earlier for a whopping $25,000. This home still stands today and is on the National Register of Historic Places.

All of us wine lovers know the importance of Napa Valley. To be clear, the town of Napa was quite small during this time period- a population around 4,000. Kansas City at the same time boasted a population well over 125,000.

If he made the headlines in a metropolis, it wouldn't take long before the same happened in the little town of Napa.

W.D. Carlile carried with him letters from prominent people and clippings from newspapers showcasing his stance in society. Even a newspaper in San Francisco raved of Carlile’s character, calling him “of engaging presence, a cultured conversationalist, pleasing, refined and intelligent.” One business he began to show particular interest in was growing grapes in Napa and investing in vineyards.

Carlile rose within the upper echelon of society – but there were some concerns. Inside the Yount mansion that still stands today were secrets Napa was just starting to unravel. The Napa County Register reported, “In the mansion with him lived a very handsome young woman who was not Mrs. Carlile.”

The Yount Mansion at 423 Seminary St. was built in 1884 and was the site of the Carlile-Crute saga in 1887-88.
The home in Napa was purchased with Sallie Crute's money. The home is now on the National Register.

That was a nice way of putting it.

First, he told people she was the wife of a friend. Then he told them she was his cousin. Last, he claimed she was his ward.

It appears the counselor couldn’t keep his lies straight.

A drawing from a photo of Mrs. Mary Carlile
Courtesy San Francisco Examiner

Just as people were scratching their heads, Mrs. Mary Carlile arrived from Chicago with her two young children. Her reaction to Miss Crute seemed to put the public at ease. They even co-hosted a grand party at the mansion where both women acted as hosts.

This harmonious arrangement was about to blow up into pieces.

In January 1888, Mrs. Carlile ran away from the mansion in Napa where she and her husband were cohabitating with Ms. Crute. She was taken in by a neighbor and reported that her husband and Miss Crute had been “for a long time intimate” and she had run away because she couldn’t take the abuse any longer.

Her story smelled of scandal, and the newspapers were quick to pick it up. She openly spoke with journalists and told them that she and her husband had no money. They had been living for years off the money of his mistress.

A drawing from a photo of Sarah J. Crute
Courtesy San Francisco Examiner

The “most abandoned wretch that ever lived,” as she called her husband, was confined to bed at the time in ill health. Poor Mrs. Carlile claimed her husband promised her she would break it off with Sallie, so when she arrived from Chicago in Napa and found her living with him, she was shocked. She declared he begged her to try to live in harmony because Sallie’s money would help them- and he revealed that Sallie’s money had actually bought the house.

Mrs. Mary Carlile claimed they tried to make it work, her husband begging her to try out living with Sallie in the home since her money would help them. Mrs. Carlile stated, “My life was a perfect hell in that house.”

Even though Mr. Carlile was in bed sick, it didn’t stop him from also talking to reporters about their situation. 

He insisted that it was his wife’s idea to take in Sallie and use her for money and that his wife had begged him to shoot Dr. Munford in Kansas City for ruining her reputation. He even had the audacity to claim that his wife had told him to divorce her and marry Sallie.

March 20, 1888 headline in
the San Francisco Examiner

To complicate matters, William D. Carlile did have some incriminating letters that backed up part of his story.

Sallie denied the affair but said his wife owed her $5,000 for the bail and other expenses back in Kansas City. “When Mr. Carlile and I came out [to California] in 1886 it was at the suggestion of Mrs. Carlile,” Sallie told reporters. “The allegations contained in the Kansas City Times touching our relations were absolutely false, and must have been instigated by personal ill-will. There were no grounds for the charges.”

I’m not sure I believe little Sallie J. Crute.

She went on to claim that she and Mrs. Carlile “were the closest of friends.”

Regardless, the headlines had followed the Carliles to Napa- and these headlines would force them to leave.

In February 1888, the tumultuous and confusing love triangle came to a head. Possibly out of retaliation, Sallie filed Mrs. Carlile filed two separate suits- one in Kansas City and one in Napa. She charged her husband with desertion and asked for his financial support. In a suit in Kansas City, she sued Sallie J. Crute for $50,000 in damages, asserting “by means of offers of money, aid, social position and influence, did wickedly, willfully, designedly and maliciously debauch and seduce W.D. Carlile.”

"A Birdseye View of Napa City"- circa 1880s. Image courtesy University of California-Berkeley

It was likely true that most of the property purchased in California was done with Sallie’s inheritance. Even though this may have been true, the properties were purchased under W.D. Carlile’s name. In April, Mary S. Carlile was granted divorce from her husband and was given 75 percent of the property in his name- plus guardianship of their two children.

Twelve days later in San Francisco, William Dorsey Carlile made an honest woman out of Sallie J. Crute and married her.

Kansas City Times headline
April 18, 1888

Before the ink was dry, the former Mrs. Crute took a train with her two children back to Chicago and didn’t look back.

In 1890, W.D. Carlile published a 142-page “Personal Statement” printed and bound in leather. He asked newspapers across the nation to publish its availability so he could give “explanation and vindication of his conduct throughout his troubles in Kansas City and California.”

From my research, I have been unable to locate this “Personal Statement.”

A character such as William Carlile wasn’t about to sneak into the undiscovered pages of history.  He did bounce back and forth from the west coast to Chicago, still allowed to practice law in both states. In 1892, he represented the Chicago World’s Fair in a lawsuit. In 1898, he was sentenced to 30 days in jail after he punched a defendant in a Chicago court in the eye.

After the late 1890s, Carlile seems to have been able to erase his errs in the headlines. It may have been because he changed his identity altogether and abandoned his law practice. He changed the spelling of his name to  “Carlisle” and began to dabble in apple orchards.

His love for orchards became his priority. Carlisle even invested money into a large apple orchard in his home state of Virginia. The property in Afton, Va. was located in the Blue Ridge Mountains and was famously known as the "Royal Orchard." Lore stated that the apples from this property were sent to the Queen of England, hence its name.

Royal Orchard's "Scott Castle" built in 1911 on the land once owned by Carlile

The happy couple spent much of the turn of the century at the Royal Orchard and also had a residence in Charlottesville, Va. where the papers boasted "Mr. Carlisle and wife will be a great addition to both social and business circles of Charlottesville."

Luckily, Virginia seemed to remain safe of scandals associated with the Carlile/Carlyle/Carlises.  They sold the property to Fred Scott in 1902, and the property today still remains with this family. The built a large stone castle in 1911 on the land that is known as Royal Orchard's "Scott Castle."

Always one to weasel people into investing in his ideas, W.D. Carlisle became a sought-after speaker at fruit conferences across the nation. Called “professor” by his newfound industry, William and Sallie Carlisle made their home by 1904 in Spokane, Washington where he had convinced wealthy men to invest in 600 acres of land ten miles southeast of the city. The plan was to manufacture cider, champagne and apple butter under the name of the Evergreen Fruit Company. "Professor" William D. Carlisle was given the title of superintendent of the factory and the newspapers stated, "He understands the making of cider, wines and fruit butters and has labored in the industry both in America and in Europe."

An apple orchard in Washington. Photo courtesy 1889 Magazine

Considering his health, I'm pretty sure the European connection was a bit of a fib. And, his "experience" in the industry spanned a whopping ten years- tops.

Regardless, the newspapers and horticulture industry touted Professor Carlisle as a “widely known champagne manufacturer.” His ability to turn apple juice into champagne became a brief sensation. The Evergreen Fruit Company boasted that "the apple cider, after Mr. Carlisle's treatment, could hardly be discerned from light French wines."

Yellow journalism, perhaps? 

On Jan. 17, 1905, Professor W.D. Carlisle stood to address a crowd from the Northwest Fruit Growers’ Association at the Boise YMCA and “dropped dead on the platform.” His death came only months before his large apple orchard manufacturing plant, the Evergreen Fruit Company in Spokane was set to open its doors, and it was said that “some valuable secret formulas [for apple champagne] perished with him.”

Spokane in 1910. Image courtesy Spokane Historical,
Eastern Washington University

In his obituary, there is no mention of his children.

Sallie J. Crute, now Mrs. Carlisle, stayed in Spokane. In 1910, it is clear her wealth had diminished as she is a roomer with others and working as a clerk in a physician’s office. She later remarried, but her fate is unknown. She never had her own children and lost the bulk of her money. Was it for love? Was it because she was duped?

William J. Carlile’s first wife also opted to distance herself from her past. After moving to Chicago with her two children, she also changed the spelling of her last name, opting for “Carlyle.” She died in 1912 and is buried in Chicago.

Newspapers in the 1880s called the Carlile story “one of the most remarkable scandals ever made public.” There is no mistaking the intrigue even well over a century later. Just as many questions today remain as to what led to such a scandal and as to who the true victims
were.

* This story was originally published in the Martin City Telegraph and was expanded for this blog.

* * * *

** My newest project is my FREE podcast with 610 Radio host Bob Fescoe called "Kansas City: 2 States, 1 Story" where we discuss our city's history in a fun, relatable way. Download the episodes and listen at your convenience.  Just click "download" and PLAY! To access the podcasts, CLICK HERE!

* If you loved this story, consider "liking" The New Santa Fe Trailer on Facebook so you don't miss any of my writing! Click here!

*Colorization of the main image by Jamie Russell. She does amazing lettering and art! Check out her Facebook page HERE!

Kansas City's First Amusement Park Illuminated the East Bottoms

The excitement mounted as the streetcar pushed north from the Market Square toward its final destination. The wait for the electric line was said to be worth it even as passengers pushed themselves into the small space. 

There was standing room only, the women and children sitting in the lacquered wooden seats as the men held onto their hats with one hand as they stood grasping the leather straps dangling from the roof with the other on the bumpy ride.

Kansas City had never seen anything like this in 1900. The chatter inside the Heim Line electric streetcar was of the treasures that lay nestled below in the East Bottoms.

The car took the turn south from 5^th St. to Lydia and dipped steeply downhill. A few squeals from eager children would indicate that this journey seemed to be the first of many rides of the day. The car pushed on east down Guinotte Ave.; the first view was of the Heim Brewery’s red brick smokestack towering hundreds of feet in the air, puffing promise into the sky. The men licked their lips as the women and children crooked their heads toward the windows ready to witness what they had only read about. The final turn was on Montgall Ave.- the frenzy and commotion escalating, the brick buildings quickly disappeared to reveal something never seen before in Kansas City. Smiles coated the faces of the streetcar passengers as women abruptly stopped fanning themselves under their large hats.

The entrance to Electric Park, cir. 1901

Standing well above them were two beautiful rounded cupola’s flanking the entrance. The brick buildings surrounding the East Bottoms were replaced by the freshness of white architecture framed with multiple American flags. The entrance in and of itself was comparable to the great expositions of the day. Beyond these gates was something that Kansas City was ready to witness- perfectly manicured gardens, amusement rides and musical entertainment all in one location.

They had arrived at their final destination, thirsty for the thrills of Kansas City’s first amusement park.

Nearby, the Heim brothers surveyed the scene from an upper story window. A swarm of people, one streetcar after another, were walking to the entrance of their new park. They looked at each other and smiled widely.

Their plan had worked.

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The Ferd Heim Brewery in 1900, Electric Park in the background

To understand the motivation behind a bunch of brewers building an extensive (and expensive!) park designed for families, we need to briefly look at the history of Heim. 

Plus, Kansas City loves their locally crafted libations! 

In 1856, Ferdinand Heim immigrated from Prussia to Missouri and settled on the other side of the state. From 1857 to 1862, Ferd owned a brewery in Manchester, Mo. and then operated a brewery in East St. Louis from 1870 to 1889. The success of the operation set his eyes to the west.

Ferdinand’s three sons, Ferd, Michael and Joseph, moved to Kansas City and expanded the Heim line in the East Bottoms in 1884. The Heim’s quickly became the largest pre-prohibition brewery in Kansas City and built multiple buildings for their operation.

But their location, minus the railroads that ran through the area, made it not easily accessible to the public. The Heim brothers had envisioned building their brand through personal outreach. The only way to get their customers straight to their door was to use the latest technology.

In January 1899, the Heim brothers began construction of an electric streetcar line from the City Market to the East Bottoms. Ferd Heim proudly told the Kansas City Star, “We will operate six cars at first.” Set to finish the line by July 1^st, “Heim Road” had 130 men working to lay the tracks. The line ran west over Guinotte Ave. (in front of the brewery) to Lydia, south on Lydia to 5^th St., then west to the City Market.

The connection would link the City Market to the East Bottoms for the first time, but more importantly, it linked the city to Heim. The Heim Road was three miles long and the trip took 18 minutes from start to finish. After a few snags in the construction, the line was opened up for business (months behind schedule) in November 1899. Five cars were ready to round up thirsty Kansas Citians and take them to Heim.

An engraving featured in a souvenir book from Electric Park
showing a Heim Line streetcar

But no one came.

That streetcar line had cost Heim $96,000. Failure wasn’t an option.

They put their heads together and hatched a plan to entice people to pick up the Heim Road at City Market. They needed to give people a reason to ride down to the Bottoms.

Building an electrically powered park for people of all ages was the answer. Other cities had them, and the Heim’s were ready to invest more money that would build up their storefront business.

Through the winter and spring of 1899-1900, the Heim’s used land to the north of the brewery and began building. Modeled after Coney Island in Brooklyn, Electric Park was an ambitious feat that would feature curiosities that residents had never seen in the city.

The first ad for Electric Park, May 30th, 1900
The Kansas City Star 

On June 3^rd, 1900, Electric Park opened its doors to the public and the Heim brothers stood in the shadows to see if their plan would work.

17,000 antsy people jumped on the Heim streetcar line and took that 18 minute trip to a new wonderland- a fairyland illuminated at night with lights.

Imagine how long those passengers waited in the City Market to grab a valuable seat- they only had five streetcars!

Entrance to Electric Park was 10 cents, and entrance to the theater was between 10 and 20 cents, depending on the talent that was featured. Weekday afternoons featured free admission.

Visitors were greeted with an electric fountain with “living acts” in the center, a German village, a billiard room and an open-air theater seating 2500 people. Of course, the most important feature of the park was the German Beer Garden that offered patrons fresh beer that pumped through perfectly placed lines directly from Heim Brewery.

Cheers!

At night, the park was beautifully illuminated with lights, therefore giving people another reason to stick around well past dusk. A souvenir book printed by the Electric Park Amusement company proclaimed that the illuminated lights "must be seen to be appreciated."

Jarrow the Strong Man

The quick success of Electric Park had their manager searching for new vaudeville acts, comedians, and musicians to come to perform. The headliner at the beginning was the Seven Reed Birds, who did “a musical farce that has never been West before.”

One act brought in from Chicago was Jarrow the Strong Man. Emil Jarrow, only 24 years old at the time, weighed 134 pounds and was rumored to be able to lift 180 pounds above his head… with one hand. Before he performed for an eager Kansas City crowd, a few local men, including a Kansas City detective, sat with him inside one of the offices. The detective, weighing in at a reported 240 pounds, sat back in a wooden chair. Jarrow the Strong Man stood up, cradled the bottom of the detective’s chair with one hand, and lifted the detective above his head.

With one hand.

Electric Park sure was electrifying!

On a darker side of history, some of the acts included blackface performers, also known at the time as “negro imitators.” After a successful run of Billie Rice’s Minstrel’s in July 1900, the following performers had big shoes to fill. Lew Hawkins and 20 other black faced “comedians” were set to perform, and according to the Kansas City Star, they were “better than expected.”

Electric Fountain drawing found in an early souvenir book
sold at the park

The incredible success of Electric Park in its first season had the Heim’s talking to the Metropolitan Street Railway Line so they could bank on the profits of this privately constructed streetcar track. An agreement was made- Heim sold the line for $250,000- a profit of $155,000 in just over one year.

Licensing for liquor sales at Electric Park was questionable for their second season in 1901. The city was slow on granting a license, which the Heim’s deemed unacceptable since this was the very reason they built their park. They were forced to open without their most popular feature- their Beer Garden. The Heim’s threatened that it was “an injustice to keep the park dry any longer.” For opening weekend, ginger ale and ice cream were the substitutes for Heim suds. Those five dry days didn’t stop people from coming, but it certainly was never the intention of the Heim-owned park to be without Heim beer.

But no worries. . . the license was pushed through and the beer flowed yet again. Kansas City’s “pleasure resort,” as it was coined, was back in the beer business. A streetcar left the City Market every two minutes in order to transport passengers to Electric Park.

A view of the Promenade, cir. 1901 

From season to season, changes were made to the park. In 1901, visitors strolled past checkered gardens, some in hues of purple while others were dotted with green and yellow accents. A souvenir book from the early days of the park proclaimed, "What nature lacked here has been abundantly replaced by artificial means and one might travel far indeed before finding another such enchanting place."

Sounds of the distant orchestra thumbing tunes in the German village and screams from children as they gazed up at the large electric fountain would be illuminated with the brilliancy of thousands of electric lights at dusk were common scenes at Electric Park. People swarmed like ants throughout the park, thirsty for what entertainment would be available from day to day.

The owners promised that "a day in Electric Park will ever be remembered," and they seemed to prove this to be true.

The Electric Park Theater, cir. 1901

There were other parks, mind you, that offered amusements. Both Troost and Fairmount Park had amphitheaters with entertainment, but they were lacking two distinct features: balls of light and cold beer.

Travers Vale (1865-1927), later a silent film director of 78 moving pictures in Hollywood, performed with a troupe of actors (called Travers Vale Stock Company) for Electric Park. Plays like “Olga,” “The Stockeye,” and “After the War” were penned by the director and performed in the German village.

Success is an understatement for what Electric Park brought to the city, and the Heim brothers knew it. Bringing even better entertainment was part of the package of operating the first amusement park in Kansas City.

In 1902, the Kansas City Star asked, “Have you looped the loop?” Over the winter months, the Heim brothers made the decision to bring a “railway” to Electric Park. And by “railway,” they meant what we 21st century folk call a roller coaster.

The newspaper deemed that the Loop the Loop, as it was named nationwide, would sure be popular “notwithstanding the element of danger.” It was one of the first modern roller coasters in the nation; Coney Island had introduced the Loop the Loop just one year earlier as their second railway – I mean, rollercoaster.

The Loop the Loop at Coney Island (1901-1910) was an exact model of the one at Electric Park

Passengers of the Loop the Loop would travel 1200 feet in 40 seconds at 60 miles per hour. As the name represents, the Loop the Loop would turn passengers upside down, “but they turn so quickly that the passengers do not have time to fall out.”

What?! TIME to fall out?! I’m pretty sure there weren’t any seat belts on this ride.

A general view of Electric Park from a promotional book cir. 1901, featuring the "new" pavilion in the background.

No thanks. I took my risk with the Zambezi Zinger at Worlds of Fun. It didn’t have a seatbelt, but it didn’t turn me UPSIDE DOWN.

I figured through my research I would find hundreds of accident reports from Loop the Loop victims, but shockingly, I only found one. A man lost his hat on the ride and tried to recover it after he had left the car at the end of the ride. He went to retrieve his hat and another car ending its ride ran into him.

One- don’t wear a hat on a ride. Two- watch where you’re going?

He suffered broken ribs and tried to sue Heim, but the case disappears from the records.

The German Village 

The Loop the Loop was popular- people stood in line for hours for a chance to risk their lives on Kansas City’s first roller coaster. And money was good; the loop made Heim 80 cents per minute while it was in operation.

Other attractions added in 1902 included enlarging the German Village to accommodate more seating, a den of snakes (including one that was 26 feet long), and a ranch with hundreds of pure bred Angora goats. Fortune tellers were ready to charm you and elephants even graced the East Bottoms. The German Village was described by its owners as "a very odd and attractive spot" where fun "can be had at all times while listening to the Tyrolean warblers, anything good to eat or drink; a specialty being made of such dishes as are peculiar to this class of place." 

A view looking toward the bluffs, cir. 1901

On the weekends, up to 20,000 people per day would ride down to the East Bottoms to see what Electric Park had to offer. With a population of about 164,000 in Kansas City, Heim Brewery operating under the Electric Park Amusement Company had successfully snagged a great deal of the community.

Think of it this way: today, 44,000 people visit Disneyland per day. TODAY.  Disneyland is 85 acres, and Electric Park was much, much smaller.

In fact, the crowds were so large that Heim purchased more land in 1902 to extend the park in three directions, maxing out their space at just under ten acres.

1903 started roughly when massive flooding in late May covered Electric Park. It took 28 days for the park to reopen after it was completely submerged, and many buildings toppled over under the water’s pressure.

The Ferris Wheel and the Loop the Loop were restored and a swimming pool was added (insert obvious joke here). The opening included famed Italian musician Allessandro Liberati (1847-1927), who had written a score called “Kansas City Star March” in 1896. He had traveled all throughout the country in earlier years and spent a great deal of time performing in Kansas City in 1891. This may have inspired his most well-known tune of the day. His song was the opening music for WDAF in the 1940s. Please take two minutes to listen to a recording of Liberati's "Kansas City Star March" in the attached video! 

Liberati was a crowd favorite, and he returned for many weeks that summer and for years to come. When Liberati left Kansas City, a group called Banda Rossa entered the scene and took the town by storm.

In 1904, always on the edge of the newest amusement rides, Electric Park added a toboggan slide called a “gravity railway” at the cost of $25,000. It was a 150 foot slide. Small cars holding six people were pulled up 75 feet in the air. They would start downward and travel a distance of a half a mile in three figure eights, one on top of the other.

Michael G. Heim

Yeah, I’m guessing no seat belts on this one, either.

Obviously, the Heim’s and their Electric Park Amusement Company felt it was necessary to keep up with the times. As quick as the iPhone seems to be obsolete and needing an upgrade, Electric Park was in need of another overhaul.

In 1905, Electric Park was completely revamped under the direction of Michael G. Heim. Heim had traveled east several times and visited other parks to survey what the big cities were doing. In this new design, a dancing pavilion and Hale’s “Tours and Scenes of the World” were added. George C. Hale, a retired Kansas City fire chief, had designed this concept and introduced it at the 1904 St. Louis Exposition.

A drawing of Hales Tours and Scenes of the World
featured at Electric Park. Courtesy of the Kansas City Star

Using film of scenic places around the world, “passengers” would enter an imitation railroad coach that sat on a circular platform. The coach would stay stationary as panoramic images on both sides would move. The car would slightly rock back and forth (courtesy of some hidden employees underneath) as it took curves in the scenery. A wind machine and sounds matching the landscape created a technological innovation never seen before.

The two panoramic scenes offered at opening day at Hale’s Tours and Scenes of the World were the Brooklyn Bridge and a trip down Broadway as well as a scene traveling over a rocky gorge, deemed “most realistic” by the Kansas City Star. New scenes were offered as often as they could in order to keep the public paying for this newest attraction.

George C. Hale

Space was an issue in the park, but that didn’t stop the Electric Amusement Park Company from adding to the little pieces of land they had left. An alligator farm, encompassing the final three acres, was added in 1906. Called “Alligator Joe’s Farm” after the portly Floridian aptly named  none other than "Alligator Joe", the new addition held 52 alligators and crocodiles from 15 to 24 feet long. Alligator Joe didn’t just stand by and throw meat at his friends- he was known to jump in the waters in front of screaming women and eager children and wrestle them.

Other additions in 1906 included moving the German village to the middle of the park, a covered gate as people entered, and a Japanese tea garden complete with “real Japanese servers.”  Apparently, monkeys were part of the stirring scenery, as it was reported that one escaped from a cage at the park and had quite a bit of fun exploring Electric Park. M.G. Heim tried to capture the monkey with the crook of his cane but failed.

Surprisingly, very few incidents were reported regarding negative goings-on at Electric Park, minus people shooting paper wads at those monkeys and a few accidents with the streetcars on their way to the park.

Drawing from the Kansas City Star, July 29th, 1906 of 
"Alligator Joe's" antics

There wasn’t much more monkeying around after the sixth season of Electric Park in the East Bottoms, because it was vividly clear that the park was in desperate need of more space. The Heim family knew it was a gamble to uproot their pleasure palace and move, but they were left with no choice.

At the end of September 1906, the rumors were laid to rest. No, the park would not be called “The White City” as reported, but yes, they would be moving to 46th and the Paseo. The last big event at Electric Park was the Corn Carnival, a harvest festival featuring balloon ascensions, the sale of locally-made jams and preserves, pumpkins and other farm products.

Then, the park went dark.

What was Kansas City’s first amusement park laid empty for years. In 1925, a fragment of the land (just over four acres) was donated to the city to be used as a playground. Today, Heim Park exists as the only landmark of what once was Kansas City’s Coney Island.

And the new park at 46th and the Paseo would start with one big problem: the police commissioners and nearby residents wanted it to be dry.

Part 2 of Electric Park coming at the end of August!

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A view of the gardens at Electric Park, cir. 1901

Ferd Heim Brewery 

Inside the bottling plant at Heim around the turn of the century