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Wednesday, September 27, 2017

A Tribute to a Pioneer Church on the Santa Fe Trail

Churches are the foundations of communities. When towns across the plains popped up and promoted settlement in the 19th century, one of the first buildings carved out was that of a church.

But we have to ask ourselves- what happened to these country churches in midst of the development of Kansas City- or any city for that matter?

1950s photo of the corner of State Line
and Santa Fe Trail
In the case of the Santa Fe Christian Church, a lovely country church on Santa Fe Trail just east of State Line, this question turned into a battlefield of emotions when a small fire coupled with a new congregation led to the demise of a quaint church that meant the world to so many.

To tell the whole story, we must go back to the very beginnings of the Santa Fe Christian Church.

In the earliest settlement of Washington Township in Jackson Co., Mo., small churches were pivotal to the pioneers carving out their land. New Santa Fe, stretching on State Line between the wilderness of Kansas Territory and the state of Missouri, was platted in 1851. By 1860, the town, strategically placed as the last stop in civilization on the Santa Fe Trail, had two general stores, a blacksmith shop, a post office and High Grove Presbyterian Church, established in 1856.

Oh, but the Border Wars were no match to a bustling town filled with mostly pro-slavery Southern families.  And the height of the Civil War did nothing but destroy the town and most of its contents. In 1861, Jayhawkers led by Col. Jennison set fire to the town. According to an article from 1867 in the Christian Advocate, the church in New Santa Fe was torn down during the late war and hadn’t been rebuilt.

Needless to state, money post-war was hard to come by.

The Presbyterian church in town was never reorganized. Many families would travel on Sundays to Bethlehem Church of Christ in Hickman Mills, the nearest church in the area- a journey that was six miles from the town and would have taken a half a day to reach.

Bethlehem Church of Christ in Hickman Mills was founded in 1845 and held membership of pioneers from miles and miles around it. In 1869, a group of families living on the western border between Missouri and Kansas opted to start their own church in the town of New Santa Fe. These families, many of whom came from the stock of some of the first white settlers in southern Jackson Co., were: William A. McKinney, John M. Wells, William Rippeto, Richard Kirby, Joel Lipscomb, Marcus Gill, “Widow” Manion (likely Elizabeth Sharp King Manion) and Ellen Watson.

But building a church takes time. . . and money. Country preachers passing through would have services in homes or in public meeting spaces in the town. A schoolhouse which faced east on the Santa Fe Trail where the New Santa Fe Cemetery is today first served as a gathering place for this new church congregation.

John Mercer Wells (1826-1893), charter member
and 
original trustee
In February 1881, steps were finally made to “officially” organize this new group. John Mercer Wells (1826-1893) and his wife, Catherine Rippeto Wells, took three lots they owned in New Santa Fe, totaling just about 2/3 of an acre, and deeded it to the “Christian Church at New Santa Fe”.” A payment of $315 for these lots was made. Isaac Weeks (1833-1904), Jacob Sweaney (1824-1918) and Caleb D. Kerr (1842-1925) were listed as trustees of the church.

This may not seem important now, but it certainly comes into play later.

Before a church was built in New Santa Fe, members of the community started to sense the need for a community burial ground. As these pioneers reached their 50s and 60s, a permanent place of rest was determined to be of the utmost importance. Small burial grounds often were found on pioneers’ farms; however, as they sold off their lands- and later, when development of the area occurred, these burial grounds disappeared underneath roads, brush and the foundations of new structures.  

One of the charter members and trustees of the church was William Albertus McKinney (1826-1900), a Kentuckian transplant living just over the state line in Johnson Co., Ks.  When W.A. McKinney’s wife, Eliza Rippeto became terminally ill, he and John M. Wells took lots 31, 34 and 35 and formed what we would know today as New Santa Fe Cemetery. A lot adjacent to the deeded lots (Lot 30) was donated by John E. Watson and his wife, Lou Lipscomb Watson (daughter of charter member Joel Lipscomb). This spot- Lot 30- was where the church was to be built.

The first person buried at New Santa Fe Cemetery was Eliza Rippeto McKinney (b. 1839), who died December 29, 1885.

New Santa Fe Cemetery on the Santa Fe Trail is still looked after and preserved today.
Now for those of you who have visited the historic New Santa Fe Cemetery and saunter past the weathered headstones, you know very well that there are burials at that cemetery well before 1885.

This is actually not the case. As family burial grounds were in danger of being destroyed, some of these families proactively moved their remains, headstones and all, to larger cemeteries. That’s why some of the older burials, including Dabney Lipscomb, founder of the town, are there today. They were moved there.

Uh, not all were moved, though. . .

William Albertus McKinney (1827- 1900), charter
member and trustee of Santa Fe Christian Church
An article in the Kansas City Times from 1970 mentions all these small burial grounds across the city. It states, “The Kerby cemetery would have been in the northeast corner of present-day Minor Park. . . What became of this 75 to 100 graves and markers no one knows.”

The Kerby (also spelled “Kirby”) family was instrumental in the early settlement of southern Jackson Co., and Richard Kirby was one of the charter members of the Christian Church at New Santa Fe. Yet his grave location is unknown. Only 10 of these family members of the Kirby’s were moved to the New Santa Fe Cemetery… and Richard wasn’t one of them. “Uncle Dick,” as he was known to families of the area, died in 1890 and is buried… somewhere.

By the early 1890s after the death of Uncle Dick, plans to build the church on Lot 30 were well underway. In 1891, timber hauled up the Missouri River was carted down by wagon from Westport to New Santa Fe. The Christian Church at New Santa Fe was a simple country church, painted white with one door for men and the other for women and children. It had a chimney in the middle and potbellied stoves on each side. Pews from Westport were placed inside the church and were unvarnished. The Santa Fe Christian Church was dedicated in 1892 on the land, its bright white exterior and simplicity a shimmer of hope in a town that had seen so much strife in its day.

1933 artist's sketch of the church published
in the Kansas City Star
The railroad to the south and the creation of a town called Martin City was the sealing fate of New Santa Fe’s business district. But farmers- these pioneer families- stayed put. To keep the church alive, women would sell eggs, make butter and haul their goods to Westport to be sold every Friday. The social activities of the church, even after the buildings around it were torn down, moved or withered away, were the cornerstone of this pioneer community. It gave people a reason to return to the Santa Fe Road.

And that church was their social activity for just shy of a century.

Think of all this little church and its members saw in its existence- it became one of the only structures surviving in the community even as JC Nichols snatched up land and started their planning.

In 1925, the church got a small makeover. Members pooled their money and the original chimney in the center of the room was moved to the outside, the potbellied stoves were upgraded, the room was re-plastered, the roof was replaced and a basement was added.

Kansas City Star article from 1929 mentions how the Santa Fe Christian Church hosted a church bazaar. People present could trace their family back to the southern states when settlement was sparse in southern Jackson Co. Sarah Jane McPherson Bartlett, one of the founding members of the church, stated, “Yes, I can recollect the trouble we had with the border raiders- it was the redlegs one day and Quantrill men the next, and we couldn’t do anything but just let ‘em rob us.”

A 1951 centennial celebration in New Santa Fe had the children of the area
gathered near the Santa Fe Christian Church
Burr McGee, descendant of charter member Marcus Gill who lived on a farm encompassing all of Verona Hills subdivision, fondly remembers the simpler days of the Santa Fe Christian Church. “It was all a very country small town. It was great. There were sometimes church socials outside in the area in front and on the west side of the church. I remember the cicadas buzzing, playing with other kids and eating fried chicken and cherry pie. There was Sunday School and a lot of reading from the Bible.”

Other small children that grew up in the area can still recall the importance of the church in their quaint neighborhood. Even if they didn’t attend church services, they would take up any opportunity to meet with friends for a country dinner or church event.

One of the reverends of the church, the only one that could claim the town of New Santa Fe as his birthplace, was Charles Stewart (b.1884), grandson of Archibald Stewart and Cinderella McKinney. In an article clipped from around 1939, Mr. Stewart recalled the Sunday School attendance in the 1890s when “200 youngsters and adults crowded into the building. . . The grounds were filled with buggies and wagons, the horses tied to trees while the crowd stayed for all-day services broken by a basket dinner at noon.”

Members gather at the church for a reunion in cir. 1937
Courtesy of Marilee Ciardullo
Troy Bartlett, son of Sarah McPherson Bartlett, reminisced in a 1959 article published in the Johnson County Herald, “The church has also been a big social center. The big Christmas Eve program was something anticipated from one year to the next. There were strawberry and ice cream socials, back in those days, when all the ice cream was homemade, and strawberries grew in abundance in the patches of the community.”

By the 1960s, many of the descendants of pioneer families had moved out of the area, yet several still made the Sunday pilgrimage to Santa Fe Christian Church. As the area morphed from a farming community with dirt roads to paved and platted subdivisions, the small church on a hill with its cemetery welcomed new members of newly-settled suburban families.

And five of these people, for whatever the reason, marched down to the Jackson Co. Courthouse in 1965 and incorporated the “Santa Fe Christian Church,” most likely not discussing it with members. If you recall, the church was legally named “The Christian Church at New Santa Fe,” but over the years the name had been simply shortened by locals to the “Santa Fe Christian Church.” These pioneers saw no need of any type of a new incorporation when their organization owned the land and its sacred building for shy of 100 years.

Photo of the church, courtesy of City Planning Department, Historic Preservation
(formerly City Landmark Commission)
Clues can be unearthed through these court records; this incorporation uses a Grandview, Mo. home for their legal address, and one of the men listed uses the Santa Fe Christian Church on the Santa Fe Trail as his legal address. I consider myself pretty good at researching, and the Board of Directors listed on this document don’t seem to have any attachment to the founding families – or to the area, for that matter.

The destruction of the church, in my opinion, didn’t begin when a fire took part of the building. It began with this incorporation of “The Santa Fe Christian Church” in 1965.

I’m not going to name names.

This story isn’t about them.

It’s about that little white church on top of a hill on the Santa Fe Trail that meant the world to so many.

On November 14th, 1969 at around 7:00pm, flames and smoke could be spotted swirling on the north end of the Santa Fe Christian Church. Firefighters arrived at the location, unraveling hoses and hopping into action. In the Kansas City Times article published the next day, battalion fire chief Joseph Connor said the fire started “in a defective heater system near the altar.”

Connor stated the “structure was not severely affected, and most damage was confined to the church interior and the area around the altar.”

One can only imagine the agony that this news would have caused to the families forever entwined with this church.

Many of these pioneer families weren’t about to give up on it. They knew in their hearts and minds that it was worth saving.

As the embers were extinguished, it became exceptionally clear that the blossoming tensions were about the engulf the members, new and old, of the Santa Fe Christian Church. At first, it seemed as if things would be okay; however, the question of ownership of this organization was about to get dicey.

So many hands were about to be played.

That “new” organization, aptly named the “Santa Fe Christian Church,” incorporated in 1965, wouldn’t be located at someone’s home in Grandview for much longer.

After the frost of winter lifted and the land thawed out in the spring of 1970, the congregation gathered, allegedly not notifying all members of the church, to raze the old building bruised by the fire. People went into the church and stripped it of its pews and decorations.

These actions made many members scratch their heads and then spring into action. Hugh R. Keltner and his wife, Esther (who was the granddaughter of W.A. McKinney, charter member), opted to organize a Restoration Committee. They figured if they could raise the money to restore the church, there would be no reason to destroy it.

Bill McKinney, member of the
Restoration Committee established to
fight for the church
Boy, they were sadly mistaken.

Regardless, Hugh began an aggressive campaign and recruited many of the older members to stand up and fight. Bill McKinney, John Kernodle and Homer Klapmeyer gladly stepped on board. Between the four of them, they began to contact their friends and fellow members to generate support of restoration.

“It’s not our aim to take anything from anybody,” Hugh Keltner explained to the Kansas City Star, “We just feel we’ve got a right to have our old church restored and this cemetery undisturbed.”

In September, Hugh and Bill recruited Martin City resident and friend, Gus Broockerd, to give an estimate to fix up the Santa Fe Christian Church.

Gus, the former owner of Broockerd Construction, vividly remembers what he saw when he examined the church just over 47 years ago. “It wouldn’t have been much to repair it,” Gus recalled.

In fact, documents show that Gus Broockerd estimated the damages at $3,000 to $3,500.

And tensions in the area were growing by the minute. Gus’s neighbor was a member of the church and was completely against restoring it. “I told her, ‘You know, that church can be saved. It’s kind of historic.’”

The Restoration Committee met with the trustees of the church to try to reason with them on renovation. One balked the idea and concluded that it would always smell like smoke. Another Board Member stated the church wasn’t historic and allegedly said, “That’s the past. I’m for the future.”

In July 1970, it became clear what the future would hold. The Santa Fe Christian Church took out a permit on the land next door to begin construction of a new building.

Damage to the church from the fire
Courtesy of Martha Walton
… On land they didn’t even legally own yet.

The Restoration Committee spoke to Ray Klapmeyer, a well-known businessman that grew up in the area. He was eager to help with the finances to restore the church but said he wouldn’t help build a new one.

But a “Specialty Warranty Deed” changed everything on October 26, 1970. Three trustees of the Christian Church at New Santa Fe, the legal name of the organization given in 1881, signed pen to paper. It is alleged that some may have been misled on what they were actually signing and told it was a “release of trusteeship.” But in reality, these three men transferred ownership of the Christian Church at New Santa Fe to the “Santa Fe Christian Church.”

Yes, transferred ownership to the organization started out of a house in Grandview.

Digest that for a second.

Desperate to spawn support outside of the southern Jackson Co. area, the Keltner’s contacted the Jackson County Historical Society. Their president, Col. Slaughter wished to help but was knee-deep in restoring the Wornall House. An article was published in their Summer 1970 newsletter to generate support of restoration of the Santa Fe Christian Church.

Mel Solomon, Chairman,
City Landmark Commission
Mel Solomon (1928-2017), architect and chairman of the City Landmark Commission, answered the cry for help. He drove out to the little church and examined it. He wrote up a detailed report stating that not only was the building worthy of restoration, but it should be considered as a state landmark.

Hugh Keltner and Bill McKinney got a little wind in their sail from this news.

No one would tear down a historic landmark on the Santa Fe Trail, right?!

That Warranty Deed in October 1970 had flipped the tables quite a bit, and when the insurance money for the fire rolled in, totaling around $22,000, the money was used to purchase the land they already had a permit out on next door to the weathering Santa Fe Christian Church. In November 1970, $7,000 paid to JC Nichols set the future into motion.

The Restoration Committee could sense it was time to lawyer-up, and so they did.

I told you things got a wee bit complicated…

The Restoration Committee wasn’t willing to give up; they generated a petition in the area. Some newly transplanted Verona Hills residents signed it, stating that the church and the history of the Santa Fe Trail were “selling points” to buying their homes. 290 signatures were obtained.

Hugh Keltner and Bill McKinney met with state representatives, Nick Penna and Harold Esser at the church. They explained their case and how Mel Solomon, City Landmark Commission, believed the building should be a state landmark. The reps were excited about a landmark in the area being considered by the legislature.

The swift movement of the Restoration Committee to save their little church came to a screeching halt on December 6, 1970. A letter from the City of Kansas City was sent to the church and read aloud to the “new” organization. They had five days to tear the church down, as it was considered “dangerous.”

Hearing of this alarming news, Hugh Keltner and Bill McKinney met with their lawyer and called Mel Solomon. Both helped file the paperwork to get a 60-day extension.

For now, the church was safe from the bulldozers.

The cold temperatures outside matched the reception of the Restoration Committee as they made one last-ditch effort to plead their case to the “new” Santa Fe Christian Church on February 7th, 1971.

William and J.K. McKinney, Eliza Holmes, Mabel Lawson, Hubert and Louise Briggs, Mary, Hazel and Robert Sharp, Hugh and Esther Keltner marched into the Martin City Elementary School where the church congregation was meeting while their brand-new building was being erected. They explained- pleaded- that private funds would be used to restore their little church and they wouldn’t interrupt any of their current plans with their new brick building.

The gates on the western edge of the cemetery
are close to where the outhouse for the church
once stood.
The matter came to a vote- again. The members of the Restoration Committee were not allowed to vote, because according to the by-laws, they had been “inactive” for 90 days. It was said that substantial gifts throughout the years had been given and older members unable to travel weren’t allowed to vote.

They wouldn’t hear it and the vote was cast. 17 in favor of demolition; 3 against.

Left with no choice, Hugh Keltner and Bill McKinney met with their lawyer on February 12th to file a restraining order against the Santa Fe Christian Church to stop demolition.

The very next day, Hugh, possibly sensing the severity of the situation, drove up Santa Fe Road to the top of the hill at 8:00am and took a look at the little white church.

Judge Richard Sprinkle sauntered into his office that same morning and began to sign off on papers filed. At 10:36am, he signed the injunction laying on his desk to stop any destruction of the Santa Fe Christian Church.

If only that paper had made it to the top of his pile. . .

At approximately 9:30am, the equipment arrived in front of the quaint, historic church and demolition began.

Just 66 minutes too late to change history.
Bulldozers leveled the Santa Fe Christian Church before an injunction could be served. The new church, still under
construction, can be seen in the background. Courtesy of the Kansas City Star

To think of how these families must have felt seeing that pile of rubble next to the gravestones of some of those pioneers who fought, planned and saved for the building of the church. It’s heartbreaking.

The next day, Mel Solomon, chairman of the City Landmark Commission, made his feelings perfectly clear in the Kansas City Star. “I was shocked and dismayed to hear of the needless destruction of the Santa Fe Christian Church, which is on the Old Santa Fe Trail.”

Sometimes, it seems, progressiveness gets in the way of saving pieces of our history. “This is another example of the failure of individuals to see the importance and potential of rehabilitating a significant remnant of our historic heritage,” Solomon explained, “It is tragedy not only for the valiant people who worked so hard to save this church, but to the entire community and nation.”

My, how accurate this statement is even today.

After the dust from the bulldozers settled along the drastically-altared landscape surrounding the little burial ground in New Santa Fe, Hugh Keltner and Bill McKinney filed suit as “The Christian Church at New Santa Fe” against the Santa Fe Christian Church in April 1972. They sought monetary damages as well as control of the cemetery that stood in the shadow of their beloved church.

In May, 30 members of the original church stood Memorial Day weekend at the little cemetery, heads bowed in prayer. Just two months later in July, Hugh Keltner passed away leaving this organized fight a man down. And one month after that, Paul Kernodle died in a car accident and was buried in the New Santa Fe Cemetery.

To add insult to injury, Bill McKinney passed in December of that same year.

But the fight miraculously continued, many of these original members wishing for some type of resolution. And in 1975, it was finally granted.

Pioneer families formed the New Santa Fe Cemetery Association and the “new” Santa Fe Christian Church deeded part of the original lots 31, 34 and 35 to them for $1, protecting the burial ground of their family and friends forever.

Today, the outline of the baptismal font and part of the chimney of the original Santa Fe Christian Church can be seen inside the cemetery’s gates. Asphalt of the parking lot of the newer brick church covers the remains of most of the church today, although a deep sinking spot shows where the little white church once stood.

As the subdivisions moved in and the members of the church passed away, the memory of the church could have been lost in time.

But the church will live on forever.


Three years ago, a chance encounter at a store between my mother and the president of the Historical Society of New Santa Fe brought new light to the memory of the Santa Fe Christian Church. A project through the Little Blue River Chapter, NSDAR was in the works to, fingers crossed, erect a marker for the church.

“You should talk to my daughter,” my mom boasted, “She’s really good at researching things.”

Thus, I was “volunteered” to research and write a grant for this unfamiliar church.

What can I say? The rest is history.

This research not only led me to this church, but it opened the doors to incredible stories of perseverance, pioneer lives and back to that little cemetery I loved so much as a little girl. This gave birth to this very blog and inspired me to pursue my unusual passion for the history of Kansas City.

In March 2017, the final fight for the Santa Fe Christian Church was officially recognized by the NSDAR. The grant was approved and a permanent marker will be placed where the church once stood.

Along the way, one of the most rewarding aspects of this project was meeting, talking to and resurrecting some priceless friendships with these families so deeply impacted by this. I am humbled, honored and so lucky to have met them.

Rev. Charles Stewart recounted in the late 30s how the Santa Fe Christian Church was still strong even then. “The church of tomorrow will continue its work for good,” he predicted, “because its congregation is not the type to let its interest lapse.”

The foundation of the Santa Fe Christian Church and
part of the chimney are visible today
On October 7th at 1:00pm, we will congregate one final time at the spot of the Santa Fe Christian Church and honor the founding, the fire and the fight to save this beautiful church. Many people from out of town related to these pioneers will be traveling to Kansas City for this dedication.

It’s a moment of celebration of these brave pioneers, and I hope that the community will now not forget the little pieces of it that have remained unnoticed for just shy of 50 years.

It’s my privilege to be a part of this.


Please join the NSDAR, the Historical Society of New Santa Fe, and representatives of the families of these pioneers as we have a formal Marker Dedication on October 7th at 1:00pm. The dedication will start inside St. Gregorio’s Orthodox Church next door (940 W. Santa Fe Trail) and will proceed outside to the unveiling of the marker. Afterward, all are invited to share memories, look at artifacts from the town of New Santa Fe, and stroll the beautiful grounds of the New Santa Fe Cemetery.

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Everything Ablaze on the Western Missouri Border: Ewing's General Order No. 11

“For miles and miles, we saw nothing but lone chimneys to mark the spot where a happy home
 stood only five years before. .. It seemed like a vast cemetery- not a living thing to break the silence.” 

- Rev. George Miller


A stroll through the rolling hills of Jackson, Cass, and Bates Counties in the mid 19th century would have been quite the sight to see; cabins hewn from trees near the rivers, brick homes and barns dotting the cultivated landscape- stone fences caging in acreage belonging mostly to Tennessee, Virginia and Kentuckians newly transplanted from their southern loyalties.

But that stunning scenery was far from what appeared in the summer of 1863 on the western border counties in Missouri.

Brig. General Thomas Ewing (1829-1896)
154 years ago on August 25th, civilians living on the border were banished from their homes, barred from returning by the government. Within a short amount of time, the order that ostracized these elderly men, women and children from their lands turned these counties into a vast wilderness- not a home, barn or valuable left upon their return. The only thing to mark that a civilization had once been present were the skeletons of brick and stone chimneys left standing, the smoke and flames engulfing these once happy homes.

General Order Number 11 issued by Brigadier General Thomas Ewing, Jr. is listed in history as one of the harshest orders ever penned by the government, displacing approximately 25,000 civilians at the height of the Civil War. Author Arthur E. Castel wrote, “In considering the harsh treatment of civilians in American history, [Order 11] ranks second only to the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II.”  

Before we examine this horrific event on American citizens, we need to examine what led up to it.

Ewing (1829-1896), an Ohioan-turned-Kansan, was appointed in charge of the District of the Border in June 1863. The district included Kansas and western Jackson, Cass, Bates and the northern part of Vernon County.  With little to no experience as a soldier, Ewing knew this assignment was going to be certainly challenging.

This area had been at war well before the cannons were fired at Fort Sumter. And the citizens living in the western border counties of Missouri had been ransacked by outraged Kansans, oftentimes known as Jayhawkers or “Red Legs” due to the red stockings they wore.

To be fair, neither side was completely innocent here.

Map showing the Kansas-Nebraska Act and Missouri's unique position
on the map. Courtesy of American Experience
The Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 determined whether Kansas was admitted as a free state. This ignited the Southern-born residents along the border. Some owned small holdings of slaves- most didn’t. The notion that just across the horizon was being overtaken by Northern-born families, many hell-bent "free-staters," was too much to take.
  
Radical abolitionists, including men led by Jim Lane and John Brown, crossed into Missouri and created mass chaos. Pro-slavery “border ruffians” formed in small communities, and guerilla bands of bushwhackers stormed into Kansas and evoked the same pain on them.

1861 Harper's Weekly drawing of federal soldiers searching
the home of rebellious Southern women for incriminating.
Since Missouri was “neutral” during the Civil War and it never formally ceded from the Union, there was an ironic divide within the state. And as we know, especially from recent history, great disagreements lead to even greater violence. As Confederate General Sterling Price recruited soldiers in Missouri, men reluctant to join the cause- and those with more radical tendencies- stayed away from organized service.

Charles R. Jennison’s raids on western Missouri in 1861 had enraged even neutral men. Missouri artist and Unionist George Caleb Bingham commented, “If Jennison were hung, General Sterling Price would lose the best recruiting agent he ever had.”

As the violence escalated on the border and these local groups of guerillas increased in size, infamous William Clarke Quantrill linked them together. Men and boys as young as 14 joined the guerilla bands to protect their countryside and their wives, mothers and children. 

. . .And to raid Kansas. 
Recruitment poster for Jennison's Jayhawkers, 1861
 In order to be successful, these guerillas needed aid and shelter in western Missouri.

The Southern women and older men living in these counties were really left no choice; disagreeing with Quantrill or one of his men meant a quick burning of your home or possibly worse. Thus, the farms left in charge of women were refuge for these men living in hiding from Union forces- and it really didn't matter if they sided with the South or not.

Brig. Gen. Thomas Ewing felt this was the case; he knew quite well that women were aiding the enemy, oftentimes denying that they were at any fault. Most swore loyalty to the Union. Many had kin - including husbands, brothers and fathers – that were deeply involved in the Southern cause.

Women were second-class citizens. They had no choice but to follow along with sealed lips and heads down.

By the summer of 1863, the situation was clearly out of control. Ewing, stationed at Pacific House (still standing as a landmark in Kansas City) at 4th and Delaware, wrote to his commander, John M. Schofield, that the bushwhacker allies on the border were “actively and heartily engaging in feeding, clothing and sustaining them.” He believed that up to 2/3 of the people that lived within his military control were actively aiding the bushwhackers.

Honestly, he was probably right.
Pacific House Hotel, where Ewing's Union headquarters were
during the summer and fall 1863

The result was General Order No. 10 on August 18th, 1863. In part, the order states:

The wives and the children of known guerrillas, and also women who are heads of families and are willfully engaged in aiding guerrillas, will be notified by such officers to move out of this district and out of the State of Missouri forthwith. They will be permitted to take unmolested, their stock, provisions and household goods. If they fail to remove promptly they will be sent by such officers under escort to Kansas City for shipment South, with their cloths and such necessary household furniture as may be worth removing.

This was a mistake…

William "Bloody Bill" Anderson
(1840-1864)
Young women with bushwhacker ties were found with gunpowder up their skirts and suspicious amounts of cash. They were arrested and held with no bail with the intention of removing them to St. Louis, Mo. where they were to be put on trial. Makeshift prisons around Kansas City had to be erected to hold them. The three-story building at 1409 Grand was chosen to hold about twenty women prisoners.

The prisoners were held on upper floors, including the third floor that once was George Caleb Bingham’s art studio and was added by the artist himself. Guards were stationed on the main floor and in the cellar. To make extra space available, it was said that the Union removed some support beams of the brick structure.

Around dinnertime on August 13th, the building cracked and crumbled to the ground with 17 women, one boy and one guard inside. Four women were killed from being crushed by the collapse and another died days later from her injuries.

One prisoner, the 10-year-old youngest sister of William “Bloody Bill” Anderson, had been chained to a bed for being disobedient. She suffered a crippling back injury, a cut-up face and two broken legs. Another sister, Mary Ellen, was crippled for the rest of her life. Charity Kerr, sister of John McCorkle (one of Quantrill’s men), was killed. Susan Vandever and Armenia Whitsett Selvey, cousins of Cole Younger (another member of Quantrill’s men and later a member of the James-Younger gang), were also among the victims. To add insult to injury, another of Bloody Bill Anderson’s sister’s, 15-year-old Josephine, was crushed to death on this fateful day.

John McCorkle, who lost his sister in the collapse, wrote, “We could stand no more. . . innocent and beautiful girls had been murdered in a most foul, brutal, savage and damnable manner. We were determined to have our revenge.”

Quantrill and his men were enraged when they heard the news of the death of their allies and family. Taking refuge at farmhouses nearby, Quantrill and his men plotted their revenge. Lawrence, Ks., a Union town with strong ties to the Jayhawkers who had consistently attacked farms in western Missouri, was a perfect target.

The raid on Lawrence is depicted here in a painting by Lauretta Fisk
Quantrill and his men considered any crime against women- especially Southern, “God-fearing” women- to be a severe, punishable act. Women, frankly, were off-limits. Quantrill and the guerrillas meticulously mapped their route and headed into Kansas just eight days after the prison collapse. Arriving at dawn with about 400 Confederate guerrillas (including McCorkle, Cole Younger, “Bloody Bill” Anderson and George M. Todd, whose father had built the original Red Bridge), they rode into Lawrence with payback on their minds.

As the men stormed into Lawrence on August 21st, 1863, Quantrill yelled his last order to his men. “Kill every man big enough to carry a gun,” he shouted as he secured four revolvers on his belt.

The first victim, Rev. Snyder was ambushed near his home as he harmlessly milked his cow. The attack was well-organized; every man had an assignment to carry out. They screamed and shouted as the 400 men swooped through the streets, setting fire to over a quarter of the buildings, homes and barns.
Harper's Weekly's depiction "The Ruins of Lawrence"

Rev. Hugh D. Fisher, a Methodist minister who escaped the Lawrence Massacre by concealing himself under a rug, transcribed his eyewitness account in “Gun and the Gospel.” He wrote of numerous events he saw that day, including the murder of John Carpenter. Carpenter, in ill health, had tried to run from his home to escape the guerrillas. He was chased by the armed men, and his wife knew he was certainly going to be caught. She fell on top of Carpenter and sheltered him in her skirt.

Rev. Fisher wrote, “She fell with him and again they tore her partially from him and finished their crime by repeatedly turning their revolvers upon him while still she clung to him and begged for mercy and his life.”

This repulsive, unrelenting raid became known as one of the most significant and bloody events against civilians during the Civil War. Called “Quantrill’s Raid” or the “Lawrence Massacre,” around 160 to 190 men and boys were murdered. Corpses littered the dusty streets of Lawrence, then a town of about 3,000. Their mission was complete in less than four hours.
 
Tensions and vengeance had finally spilled over into unforgivable violence. Ewing was in Leavenworth when Quantrill took to Lawrence. He met with Kansas Senator and Jayhawker Jim Lane (1814-1866) near Morristown, Mo. later that evening, possibly looking to relieve some of the tensions this tumultuous, radical abolitionist would have after the Lawrence Massacre.
A monument in Oak Hill Cemetery in Lawrence, Ks.
honors the victims of the Lawrence Massacre 
Leander M. Dehoney stood outside of his home looking toward Blue Springs on the night of August 24, 1863 and could count 24 houses burning in the distance. The retaliation of Lawrence had already begun.

Ewing returned to the Pacific Hotel in Kansas City on August 25th and took pen to paper four days after the Lawrence Massacre to issue General Order No. 11. Little did he know the lasting influence this would have on families. . . and on his own career.

In part, the order read: 

All persons living in Jackson, Cass, and Bates counties, Missouri, and in that part of Vernon included in this district, except those living within one mile of the limits of Independence, Hickman's Mills, Pleasant Hill, and Harrisonville, and except those in that part of Kaw Township, Jackson County, north of Brush Creek and west of Big Blue, are hereby ordered to remove from their present places of residence within fifteen days from the date hereof.

Just fifteen days to vacate.

We know how the weather can be in August in Missouri. The temperature during this fifteen day period hovered between 90 and 100 degrees. . . and it hadn't rained in weeks.

This original Oath of Allegiance dated Sept, 7, 1863 for George W. Kemper shows that he was able to answer questions to the Union's liking and could stay within the Hickman's Mill military post.
Document courtesy of Harvey Kemper
Depriving the bushwhackers of the comforts offered in many western border counties was essential, in Ewing’s mind, to controlling the havoc. Gen. Order No. 11 went on to allow people to report to one of the military posts, which included Hickman’s Mill, Pleasant Hill, Harrisonville, and Kansas City and swear their oath of allegiance to the Union. They would be put under intense questioning, and if their answers were deemed true by soldiers at the post, they would be allowed to stay at the military station.

This map demonstrates the "Burnt District"
outlined in red. The stars represent military posts.
The northwest corner of the map carved out
was the exception of Order No. 11 evacuation.
These people were not allowed, under any circumstances, to return home. They couldn’t jump over the state line to Kansas and settle on the eastern border counties. All of their possessions were left behind-  they were left to carry what they could. Many families buried priceless treasures in hopes they could one day return and reclaim them. All their crops were automatically forfeited to the government.

It’s essential to keep in mind that these families that remained on their farms were absent of young men to help with moving; most of the men over the age of 15 were serving on the two sides of the war. Elderly men, women and children were the only ones remaining. Wagons to haul valuables away had been pillaged and stolen in previous raids from both sides- horses had been taken from their stables.

Ewing instructed his soldiers to not pillage the deserted homes left behind, but he was in no position to control what happened. Many of the Union soldiers in charge of these displaced Missourians in the camps were enraged Kansans looking for an opportunity to punish them. And pillaging and burning of homes started the minute word of the Lawrence Massacre traveled like the wind.

The civilians of these counties, estimated to be over 25,000 people, were given 15 days to clear out – most traveling on foot- of an area of just shy of 3,000 square miles. The families that had rummaged up their possessions were oftentimes attacked on the road and robbed of what they did have left. Each person, loyal or disloyal to the Union, was forever affected by Gen. Order No. 11.

News of the order traveled quickly, but those in more rural areas, far away from military stations and the bustling towns of Kansas City and Westport, had no idea such an order had been enacted. Carol Bohl, executive director of the Cass County Historical Society, stated, “Many in reality didn’t receive that message until 15 minutes before they were told to gather their things and leave. So the culmination, of course, was that most of the population of the border area left, not by their own choice. They were forced out by the federal troops.”

Rev. George Miller (1835-1900)
Historian and expert on Gen. Order No. 11, Tom Rafiner, stated in Topeka’s KTWU’s “Sunflower Journeys” series, “In many instances, as soon as families had packed their belongings that they had to carry out of the county, their homes and barns were set fire to. There are numerous instances of families standing in their front yards watching as troops set fire to their homes and their property. Those three counties that were vacated later became known as the Burnt District.”

Union militiamen, many from Kansas, traveled through the counties and set fire to most all of the abandoned homes. They carried the remaining possessions of these displaced citizens into Kansas to use for their own purposes. Stories from the survivors of the order wrote of hardships and terror as many of them watched men shot down as they were trying to obey the order.

Rev. George Miller, who lived in Kansas City at the time, wrote, “The enforcement of such an order. . . right at the beginning of winter, would avail nothing, and would inflict untold suffering on thousands of helpless women and children, already bearing crushing burdens, and would bury its author in eternal ignominy.”

The home of George Caleb Bingham when he painted "Order
No. 11," located in Independence, Mo.
George Caleb Bingham, a Unionist, completely disagreed with Ewing’s order. He famously warned in a letter to Ewing, “If you execute this order, I will make you infamous with pen and brush.”

James Lane
And boy, did he ever! In 1868, Bingham sat in his art studio in Independence, Mo. and painted one of the most famous of his works. Civil War: as realized in the Desolation of Border Counties of Missouri during the operation of “General Order No. 11,” issued by Brigadier General Ewing, from his Head Quarters, Kansas City, August 25, 1863 was the name given to his famous painting. Commonly referred to as Order No. 11, this work of art demonstrates how many on both sides of the cause felt about Ewing’s decision to inflict pain on civilians living on the border.


Kansas senator Jim Lane, known for his powerful political speeches, threatened in the Daily Missouri Democrat on September 1, 1863, “I will tell you what I want to see. I want to see every foot of ground in Jackson, Cass, and Bates counties burned over everything laid waste. Then we shall have no further trouble. The bushwhackers cannot remain in the country, for they will have nobody to feed them nobody to harbor them nobody to provide them with transportation no place to sleep in.”

Lane got his wish.

The Columbia Statesman reported of the refugees traveling through the community that same month. “For several day’s past families with all their movables have been passing through, en route for a new home, having left the border in consequence of the late order of Gen. Ewing. Many of them looked ragged and forlorn, bearing evident signs of poverty.”

It was said that anyone left behind after September 9th still residing in these counties was shot on the spot by Union troops.

The Union commander at Lexington, Mo., Bazel F. Lazear, wrote to his wife, “There is hundreds of people leaving their homes from this country, and God knows what is to become of them. . . . It is heart sickening to see what I have seen. . .A desolate country and women & children some of them almost naked. Some on foot and some in old wagons. Oh God what a sight to see in this once happy and peaceable country.”

George Caleb Bingham's "Order No. 11" painting, completed at his
studio in Independence, Mo. in 1865-1870
25 year-old Laura Harris Flanery Bridges wrote of her experiences during Order No. 11. Her account was published in Tears and Turmoil: Order No. 11. Her husband had served in the Missouri State Guard as she stayed home at their farm near present-day Lees Summit with her young son. Her house had been burned in 1861 by the Jayhawkers along with 26 other houses- and her church.

When Order 11 was issued, she remembered, “All of the women were panic stricken. We had lived sheltered lives, busy in our own households, directing our Negro servants and, naturally, all important decisions were made by the men of the family.”

With no place to go, Laura gathered the small possessions she had left and traveled with 23 families, whose husbands, fathers, brothers and sons were away in the rebel army. Two men were with their group- an 84 year-old man and his 56 year-old blind son. The rest of the party contained 61 women and children.

As they headed south, they were robbed in Clinton, Mo. of everything but one team of horses and oxen. They couldn’t drive the oxen, so their feet were they only thing left to guide them all the way to Sherman, Tx.

Yes, they walked all the way from Missouri to Texas.

Laura recalled, “That was a long walk. We were only able to walk four or five miles a day.”

President Abraham Lincoln could envision the problems that could amass due to Order No. 11. He informed General Schofield in a letter Oct 1st, 1863:

"With the matter of removing the inhabitants of certain counties en masse, and of removing certain individuals from time to time, who are supposed to be mischievous, I am not now interfering, but am leaving to your own discretion.. . So far as practicable, you will, by means of your military force expel guerrillas, marauders and murderers, and all who are known to harbor, aid or abet them. But in like manner you will repress assumptions of unauthorized individuals to perform the same service, because under pretense of doing this they become marauders and murderers themselves."

And so it happened.

George Caleb Bingham
Courtesy of the State Historical Society of MO
A displaced loyal Southern woman recalled that the road from Independence to Lexington was crowded with women and children. Women walked with babies in their arms while children followed. They cried for bread and others cried to be taken back home.

In November 1863, Gen. Ewing eased up on his order and allowed people to return to their homes as long as they swore loyalty the Union. But the damage was already done. 

These shells of homes- these brick and stone chimney structures- charred from the fires and torches lit by Union men and Jayhawkers along the border, became known as “Jennison’s tombstones," and the area was accurately called "The Burnt District." In Cass County, Mo. alone, 5,000 citizens were displaced due to Order No. 11, and only 35% returned after the war to their farms. In truth, there was nothing to return to. Bates Co. didn’t have a military post nearby, thus the county was completely abandoned and all of their records in the courthouse were burned. Nothing remained.

This Order, considered to be one of the largest atrocities of the Civil War, haunted Ewing for the rest of his career. George Caleb Bingham, who had promised to show the country the atrocities of Order 11, traveled throughout to market his painting. He tried to keep Ewing out of public office, yet Ewing was able to serve two terms in the House of Representatives. As Bingham publicly denounced Ewing, Ewing stayed perfectly quiet and said not one bad word about Bingham. Bingham died in 1879, cast away due to his pubic rants and outspoken hatred toward Ewing.

Brig. Gen. Ewing was interviewed in the Kansas City Daily Times in 1879. When asked about Order No. 11, he said, “It hardly needs explanation. It was a necessity of war, and necessary to save the lives of the family and friends of the guerrillas, who were almost the only persons affected by it.”

ALMOST?

Nice try, Ewing.

Everyone, no matter the loyalty, was affected by Order No. 11.

Around 40,000 people lived in the three counties prior to Order No. 11. By the end of the Order, only about 5,000 remained. According to historian Tom Rafiner, one out of five people returned after the war.

When Ewing ran for governor of Ohio in 1880, he lost by a small margin. The events on the Missouri-Kansas border, specifically Gen. Order No. 11, is said by some historians to be the reason for his defeat. In the end, possibly George Caleb Bingham did get his way.

In 2009, a memorial, called the “Burnt District Monument” was erected 2501 W. Wall St. in Harrisonville, Mo. to pay homage to the thousands of people displaced after Gen. Order No. 11 and to remember all of their homes that were burned to the ground. A stone chimney stands at the site, a simple yet powerful reminder of the atrocities of Gen. Order No. 11.
 
The Civil War on the border was a unique and prolific time in this area’s history. People on both sides lost everything and were left behind in the smoke and flames. The anniversary on August 25th is a staunch reminder of the suffering of civilians in the hands of chaos of the region and how elderly men, women and children were victims- and survivors – of a horrific event against civilians in wartime.


THE EXILES LAMENT*
By Martin Rice (1804-1903)

Alone I've returned to the home whence expelled
By "Order Eleven" from Kansas,
And here in this home, by my feelings impelled,
I sigh as I'm penning these stanzas.

In the home which I builded I sit alone quite,
Or walk through its rooms in sad silence,
And I think of the time when my skies were all bright,
Ere the land had been covered with violence.
 
I look on my hearthstone, so cheerless and cold,
And my eyes as I look become tearful,
As I think of the past, and the happy household
Who once met around it so cheerful.

In vain I may look for that household to-day,
In vain search the orchard or wildwood ;
My motherless children are now far away
From the scenes of their earliest childhood.

I look on the landscape so changed and defaced,
And the farms all to ruin fast hasting ;
The fruits of my labors, abandoned in haste,
I find are now wasted or wasting.

I look through my windows on farms lying waste,
The homes of my once happy neighbors,
Whose houses and orchards are torn and defaced,
And spoiled are the fruits of their labors.

But some of those neighbors I'll see here no more,
I laid them in beds dark and gory,
But when I have quitted this blood-crimsoned shore,
I hope I shall meet them in glory.

Hard, hard is the fate of an exile from home,
And hard is our lot among strangers ;
Wherever we wander, wherever we roam,
We're looked on as Quantrell's bush-rangers.

What though we have suffered at bushwhackers' hands,
Or bled in the cause of the Union,
Because from the haunt of bushwhacking bands
We're counted as if in communion.

But I must away now and leave here with pain,
This wreck of my earthly Elysian,
And when I have left it perhaps ne'er again
Will this home greet my organs of vision.

*Martin Rice was born in 1804 in Tennessee and published two volumes of poetry in his lifetime. He was the only person to vote for Abraham Lincoln in all of Cass County, Mo.
This poem was written in the latter part of 1863 and published in The Lexington Union


The Rice Homestead

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Suggested readings: 

* Bleeding Kansas, Bleeding Missouri: The Long Civil War on the Border by Jonathan Earle and Diane Mutti Burke 
*Caught Between Three Fires: Cass County, Mo., Chaos & Order No. 11 by Tom Rafiner
*George Caleb Bingham: Missouri's Famed Painter and Forgotten Politician by Paul C. Nagel
* Kansas City Public Library's "Civil War on the Western Border" website- http://www.civilwaronthewesternborder.org

*Scattered to the Four Winds: General Order No. 11 and Martial Law in Jackson County, Missouri, 1863 by Ralph A. Monaco II

*Tears and Turmoil: Order No. 11 by Joan Chiles Eakin