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THE CHARITON COLLECTOR

NORTHEAST MISSOURI HISTORY AND FOLKLORE
December 1981
$2.95


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THE CHARITON COLLECTOR 
Kirksville Senior High School, Kirksville, Mo. Vol. 2 No. 1 December 1981 Issue 3

Staff							
Val Alm			Al Lewis			
Mary Ann Bailey		Mark McIntyre			 
Greg Barnes		Charla Morris			
John Buck		Bobby Poston
David Cody		Richard Ralston
Chris Collop	        James Ray
Bobby Davidson	        Ramona Richardson
Susie Danner		James Sells
Annette Greer	        J.S. Srnka
Melanie Hughes		Kim Wayman
Susie Killday		Don Wilhite
Martha Kuchera		Cheryl Whittom

Photography
Greg Barnes
James Sells
Al Lewis
James Ray

Artwork
David Cody

Advisor
Carol Trowbridge

Table of Contents

A Man of Many Hats, John W. Tinsman . . . . . 2
By J.S. Srnka

Youngstown . . . . . 7
By David Cody and James Sells

The Panther Hunt . . . . . 9
By Richard Ralston and Terry Findling

Phradie Wells . . . . . 10
By Annette Greer

Lickskillet . . . . . 14
By James Ray

Scenes from the Past . . . . . 16

Horse King of the World . . . . . 18
By Bobby Poston

Syrup for the Tapping . . . . . 24
By Mark McIntyre and Chris Collop

The Palace Bakery . . . . . 26
By Charla Morris and Kim Wayman

North Against South . . . Gifford . . . . . 28
By John Buck

Hey, What'll Ya Give me? . . . . . 30
By Mary Ann Bailey

[photo caption] The W. P. Hall Circus, based in Lancaster in the early 1900s, is featured on Pages 
18-23.

Cover Photo

A picture of the old mill at Yarrow, painted by local artist John W. Tinsman, is featured on the 
front and back cover of this issue. The story on Tinsman begins on Page 2. (Photo of painting by 
Ray Jagger)

Special Thanks

The Chariton Collector wishes to thank all those people who have shared their time and memories 
with us. Without them this publication would be impossible. Thanks for providing the "human touch" 
to Northeast Missouri History.

A special thanks to the members of the Adair County Historical Society and to Mrs. Odessa Ofstad, 
librarian of the Special Collections Library at Northeast Missouri State University, for their 
patience, assistance and interest in our project.

Copyright 1981

The Chariton Collector is published by the Local History Class at Kirksville Senior High School. 
This special class attempts to preserve the history and folklore of Northeast Missouri.


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A man of many hats

John W. Tinsman

By rights John W. Tinsman should be one of the best remembered men in Adair County. Within the 57 
years since his death in 1924, however, his identity has become relatively obscure. Tinsman, a 
unique and interesting man, was a businessman, politician, artist and humorist.

Mrs. Helen Rieger became interested in him and his artistic works while employed as curator for 
the Violette Museum at Northeast Missouri State University in Kirksville. "I found him very 
interesting because when I thought of him I thought of not one man but several because of the 
various things he was interested in," Mrs. Rieger commented.

Tinsman, the son of Martin and Susan (Coppas) Tinsman, was born July 31, 1842, in Harmony, Butler 
County, Penn. Thirteen years later he moved to Adair County with his mother and four other children 
(J. A., Mary A., Fannie and Sarah). In 1860, young Tinsman graduated from a log school house on the 
banks of the Chariton River. The following year, at the outbreak of the Civil War, he enlisted in 
Company H, Seventh Missouri Cavalry, and participated in campaigns throughout Mississippi, Kansas, 
Arkansas and Texas. According to Mrs. Rieger, "Mr. Tinsman was either a first or second lieutenant 
in the Federal Army." At the termination of his initial commitment he re-enlisted and became a chief 
bugler in the Union Army.

Following his discharge from the Army, Tinsman returned to Kirksville and in November 1865 married 
Miss Dora Pannabaker, daughter of one of the most prominent families in Adair County at that time. 
The Tinsmans were parents of two sons and two daughters: Fred, Cliff, Flossie and Ida. Tragedy 
struck the Tinsman household in 1887 with the death of his wife, Dora, and later his 22-year-old 
daughter Ida.

The Businessman

Tinsman's business career began at the close of the Civil War when he returned to Kirksville and 
began the manufacturing of woolen goods with his father-in-law. After five years in this venture, 
he found it less than profitable. He quit the woolen business and became the owner of a saw and 
grist mill which he operated until 1875. That same year the great flood destroyed the mill and many 
of his personal possessions.

After losing his life-long savings he turned to other interests and once again began a new 
occupation. Tinsman had always been a talented artist as a youngster, and at this point in his 
life he used that talent to establish yet another new business. He opened an Art Studio and 
Photographic Gallery over McGoverns Store (now the Odd Fellows Lodge) on the west side of the square 
in Kirksville. Here he painted more than 3,000 scenic backgrounds that were sold to photographers 
all over the United States.

In 1895 Tinsman became General Manager for the Chicago Portrait Company and managed five western 
states including Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, California and Utah. As Mrs. Rieger recalls, "They 
made enlargements of photographs. The enlargements were life-size and they looked more like charcoal 
drawings than enlargements of photographs. There were a number of people in Kirksville that had 
them and if you got two enlargements, you got a premium and several of the premiums I have seen." 
After four years with this company he accumulated a small fortune and retired from this business.

Tinsman's last accountable business venture was in 1900 when he and one of his sons became interested 
in the Illinois Sewing Machine Company at Rockford, Ill. His involvement with that company lasted 
until 1904.

Story by J. S. Srnka

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John W. Tinsman was a strong Republican who cast his first presidential vote for Abraham Lincoln 
while in the Union Army in Little Rock, Ark. In 1892 Tinsman was elected mayor of Kirksville and 
was so successful that at the end of his term he was re-elected to that office.

1ST ELECTION RESULTS 1892
        1st Ward   2nd Ward
TINSMAN	157        184
PIERCE	106        104


2ND ELECTION RESULTS 1893
    1st Ward   2nd Ward   3rd Ward   4th Ward
	
PORTER	91         51         88         84
TINSMAN	99        68         90         120
	
Tinsman was able to accomplish a great deal during his short administration. He was responsible 
for a new water system, macadamized streets (a surface packed with a layer of small broken stone 
on an earthen road bed), new sidewalks and numerous other public improvements. Tinsman, a popular 
politician, was elected State Representative and was a member of the Missouri 45th General 
Assembly which met in 1909-1910.

The Artist

Another interest of John W. Tinsman was, of course, his painting. A niece of Tinsman wrote in a 
letter, "Mother said that when he was a small boy he used to paint pictures with keal (I don't know 
how to spell it, but something he found among the rocks around the rivers), anyway, he was always 
painting during any spare time he had."

Examples of his art are scattered throughout northeast Missouri; Tinsman was an accomplished 
painter. Dr. George A. Still, a prominent Kirksville doctor and art collector, said in 1919, "Few 
people know that in our own midst is an artist whose works have hung in the Paris Salon, one of 
whose sunsets was reproduced and sold to the extent of twenty thousand dollars by a color 
lithogramure company."

In an interview, Dr. P. O. Selby, Dean Emeritus of NMSU and Adair County Historian, said Tinsman 
studied at the Museum of Fine Arts in St. Louis and at the Chicago Art Institute. It was while he 
was employed by the Chicago Portrait Company that he studied painting at the Chicago Art Institute.

According to an article published in the "American Art News," Volume 3, Number 5, March 11, 1905, 
"John W. Tinsman, formerly a business man of Chicago, has now given up business definitely, proposes 
to devote himself to art, and has gone to Paris for study. He has already made some effective 
studies of the coast of California, his sunset scenes being especially good." He spent the following 
year studying painting in Paris and at the art capitals of Italy.

When Tinsman returned from Europe, he built a studio near Youngstown on a high bluff overlooking the 
Chariton River; he affectionately called it "Idylwild."

Mrs. George L. Scriven knew Tinsman when she was a schoolgirl in Youngstown. As she recalls her 
impressions of Idylwild, "There was a huge stone fireplace; it was one big room and resembled a 
cabin. There was one room, and it was just covered with pictures."

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[photo captain] Seascapes such as the one above were among Tinsman's most popular subjects. He was 
also noted for his sunsets and scenes painted while he studied art in Paris. Dr. George A. Still 
commented in 1919 that few people in the area realized such a renowned artist lived in their midst.

Tinsman was a generous man and had a good rapport with children. According to Mrs. Scriven, "On the 
last day of school Mr. Tinsman invited the school children to Idylwild for a picnic. I lived on the 
other side of the river in a village. That day the river was up and I didn't get to go. He had 
promised all the girls would get a painting. Later that summer my parents and I went to Idylwild and 
he gave me a painting. It turned out that I was the only girl to receive a painting."

Tinsman was known for his landscapes of the Chariton hills; however, he also painted about nine 
portraits. One of his more interesting portraits was one that he did for the Knights of Pythias. It 
was a portrait of Pythagoras, who was the ruling spirit of the Knights. Mrs. Rieger remembers, "The 
portrait was to be of his brother, as well as Pythagoras. I thought that there couldn't have been a 
man as ugly as that. One time I happened to stumble on a picture of his brother, who didn't have a 
beard, but the eyes, the nose and the facial structure of the portrait are exactly that of his 
brother."

In 1919 Dr. Still hosted an art exhibit and sale in his home (presently the Srnka house). This 
function was held for the benefit of the Adair County Soldiers Memorial Fund to erect a monument 
in the Argonne Woods. Dr. Still "handpicked" a collection of paintings for the occasion. Two 
pictures by Tinsman were included, "The Isle of Capri" and "Street Scene in Venice." Dr. Still had 
this to say about Tinsman's work: "Mr. Tinsman's sale paintings are many times more valuable than 
the price asked. They are real paintings by a real artist."

In 1924, one year before his death, Tinsman gave his entire collection of approximately 171 paintings 
to the Violette-Robinson Historical Collection. According to Mrs. Rieger, "He donated it with a 
clause. If it was not exhibited it should be returned to his heirs." The Jan. 30, 1924, issue of "The 
Teachers College Index" states, "The collection consists of seventy-four landscapes, mostly scenes 
near "Idylwild," Tinsman's Studio in the Chariton hills; fifty-four sea views; fifteen European 
scenes, mostly of Venice and the Bay of Naples; nine portraits and a portrait of Mr. Tinsman painted 
by Earl Musick, a former Teachers College Student, now an art student in Chicago; five cartoons; 
and thirteen

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[photo captain] This painting of Pythagoras, done for the Knights of Pythias, was one of Tinsman's 
few portraits. Tinsman used his brother, J. A. Tinsman (pictured above), as the model for the 
portrait.

miscellaneous paintings." In 1965 one of his heirs discovered the paintings were not being exhibited 
and asked that they be returned to him. The university did return what was left of the collection. 
Some of Tinsman's paintings not included in the above collection are still privately owned.

The Humorist

The book, "The Youngstown Council," written by Tinsman and copyrighted in 1921, is a good example 
of Tinsman's sense of humor. Dr. Selby recalled that "Mr. Tinsman often referred to himself as the 
Mayor of Youngstown." The ficticious events about which Tinsman wrote may provide some insight 
into the small-town politics of Youngstown and the trials and tribulations of its "sister city," 
Kirksville. Here are two passages from that book:

"How The Glue Factory Plan Fell Through" - The Town Council met last night in the blacksmith shop 
to consider a factory proposition from a feller in Kansas City, the town hall having been 
previously rented by the nightwatch for a dance. After the Council was called to order by the 
mayor, the feller from Kansas City made the following statement:

"I have just as good a little glue factory as ever curled smoke out of a chimney in Kansas City, 
but I am hampered for want of space. What I want is to git out where I can have plenty of room and 
good air: All I ask is for the town to donate a site and subscribe ninety-five dollars to put up a 
suitable shed to commence operations. After which I will give work to a right smart chance of 
folks in your community. I am ready to move just as soon as the site is deeded and the money subscribed.

"I might just add that Kirksville is trying hard to secure this factory."

After the feller set down, the Mayor hit the box with the hammer and said. Well, boys, what are 
you going to do. The councilman from the ward next the river got up and made a concise statement, 
to-wit, as follows: He enlarged on our great advantages with the river right at our doors. He 
said it's surely high time the people of Youngstown reached out after some of the good things 
that were offered and clinched the argument by saying he would head the subscription list with 
five dollars, after which he set down and the Mayor hit the box with the hammer.

Then the Councilman from the ward next the stock pens arose in a quiet and dignified manner and 
said:

"I am dimetrically opposed to a glue factory. We have one of the best towns in Adair county. 
Our people are seeking for refinement and culture rather than wealth. They like the smell of

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[photo caption] Above, this angle of Idylwild shows the steep bluff upon which it was built 
(photo courtesy of Mrs. George Scriven). Right, Tinsman in Colorado in front of scenery not 
unlike the kind he painted for studios.

growing corn, new-made hay and clover blossoms, then why in Sam Hill should we contaminate the 
town with the smell of glue. If Kirksville wanted the factory let them have it - they are in 
the habit of snapping up everything that comes along regardless of smell or quality. Anyway the 
smell of glue would be no worse than the smell of drug stores, besides the factory could utilize 
the many empty bottles found in the alleys and stairways to bottle up liquid glue thereby starting 
a permanent industry for Kirksville."

At this juncture his honor hit the box hard calling the members to order, saying, we can't tolerate 
any insinuations against our sister city, the Athens of North Missouri, the seat of learning and 
the town of churches. So the member from the ward near the stock pens set down.

The feller from Kansas City seemed displeased with the turn things had taken and proceeded to light 
his pipe with a clouded brow. After a short pause the member from the ward near Young's barn got 
up and said he was greatly surprised that a member of the council should get up and throw cold 
water on our first great enterprise on account of the smell, when said member's residence joined 
the stock pens of the I. & St. L. R. R. and further said I fully acquiess with the stand taken by 
the member of the ward next the river.

At this point the Mayor motioned the nightwatch with whom he held a whispered conference. It 
afterwards developed that his honor did not quite understand what acquiess meant, but as soon as he 
did he hit the box with the hammer and said, all right, we will proceed with the business.

The member who acquiessed then set down. At this juncture of the proceedings the gasoline engine 
in the adjoining building commenced to grind feed whereupon the member from the ward near the deepo 
moved that the Factory proposition be layed over till the next regular meeting. The motion carried 
Sina Di after which the Mayor hit the box with the hammer and declared the Council adjourned. City 
Clerk.

Here is another passage from "The Youngstown Council:"

Visiting Tinsman's Studio - Last Tuesday was set by the Mayor and Council of Youngstown to visit 
Tinsman's Studio. The artist having given them a cordial invitation, saying never mind silk hats 
and tuxedo coats as the affair will be informal and be sure to bring along the City Clerk to write 
up the trip. So promptly at ten a.m. the Mayor and Council went up the steep Bluff and landed in 
front of the Studio. The Mayor was out of breath saying what in Sam Hill ever made you build way 
up here on this sand stone cliff. Well answered the artist one thing was to be out of the way of 
the backwater, after Kirksville builds their big power dam, but come in and make youselves at 
home said the artist.

After a few moments for a refreshment and passing of Virginia Cheroots the crowd began to size up 
the works of art produced by the artist while in Rome last winter. The mayor remarked, ain't some 
of your pictures rather red. Yes, said the artist those are Sun Sets. The Scene was red when I 
painted them late in the evening. Finally his honer fetched up in front of a painting and said what 
do you call this. That said Tinsman is the Ruins of the Roman Aqueduct built under the reign of 
Claudius. What do they use it for said the Mayor? The artist explained that about eighteen hundred 
years ago when Rome was at its best, the prohibitionists commenced to get in their work and caused 
all of the Breweries to be moved out about forty miles into the mountains. The Aqueduct was built 
to run the beer back to Rome as they had no rail roads those days and they couldn't have found teams 
enough in all the country to have hauled it in. Well said his honer, I'll be Gosh Dinged. But said 
the artist it turned out bad for Rome in the long run for under the Reign of Nero the City imagined 
they had to drink all the Beer that was run through and over that Aqueduct. Just as it is today. 
Some towns that have gone dry imagine they must drink all the whiskey and beer that is shipped 
in just because it's bottled up...

The member from near the stock pens here remarked consulting his watch. If I am not at home for 
meals, my wife creates discord and the Mayor said well boys, we had better go too and remarked 
Tinsman we have had a good time and I would like to spend a whole day with you. Come over and 
attend the council meeting sometime. His honor was heard to remark later on to look at that man 
Tinsman when you meet him you wouldn't think he knew anything. But from the way he paints and what 
he knows about the Roman Aqueduct he sure has been going some. City Clerk.

John W. Tinsman was indeed a unique and interesting man.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

American Art News, Vol. 3 No. 5, March 11, 1905; Kirksville Weekly Graphic, 1872 and 1873; Owen, 
C. O. and Co., 1895, Portrait and Biographical Record of Northern Missouri; Mrs. Helen Rieger, 
interview winter 1980; Mrs. George L. Scriven, interview spring 1981; Dr. P. O. Selby, interview 
spring 1981; State Teachers College Index, June 30, 1919; Dr. George Still, Art Exhibit Pamphlet, 1919; 
John W. Tinsman, The Youngstown Council; Violette, History of Adair County, 1911 (Page 2 photo of 
Tinsman from this source).

See next page for Youngstown cartoons by Tinsman.

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YOUNGSTOWN
By David Cody and James Sells

Youngstown's history dates back to the late 1850s when George Young and his family moved there in 
1859. Young purchased some of his land, located five miles south of Novinger, under the Swamp Act 
and the remaining 510 acres under the Homestead Act for $1.25 per acre.

Young founded the town when the I and St. Louis railroad was built in 1904. There were two very 
productive mines in the area: Midland Camp No. 4 and the Artic I mine. The Artic I camp kept all 
miners working at a steady pace for it yielded 500 tons of coal per day.

These mines brought a lot of activity to the small community of Youngstown and the settlement soon 
became the trading center for the area. Most of Youngstown's residents were miners.

Although the mines have long since closed and the population has dwindled, there are still fond 
memories of old Youngstown.

Mrs. Herman Current, now a resident of Kirksville, lived in Youngstown until she graduated from 
eighth grade at Sloan's Point School. Her father, Henry Hediger, ran one of the

[photo caption] George Young, the founder of Youngstown, posed in front of his home for this photo. 
Young started the town in the late 1850s, and two productive mines there made it a trading center 
for the area. Most of the residents were miners.

[illustration caption] MEMBER FROM NEAR THE STOCK PENS
[illustration caption] MEMBER FROM NEXT THE RIVER
[illustration caption] HIS HONOR, THE MAYOR
[illustration caption] MEMBER FROM WARD NEAR DEPO

[illustration caption] MEMBER FROM NEAR YOUNG'S BARN

[illustration caption] Members of the Youngstown City Council as depicted by artist John W. Tinsman 
in his book, "The Youngstown Council," copyright 1921. Excerpts from the book are included in the 
feature on Tinsman beginning on Page 2 of this issue.

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town's general stores (Harry Balch ran the other general store), was the town's postmaster and was 
owner of an implement store all in the same building. "I can still remember working in the grocery 
store when I was just tall enough to see over the counter," Mrs. Current recalled. "The miners 
would flock into the store on pay day and load up with groceries.

"The upstairs part of our store was used as the town's dance hall, but my father had to stop 
renting it out because of some problems with liquor."

One of the special things Mrs. Current remembers was the annual Fourth of July celebration. 
"My dad operated a horse-drawn merry-go-round which added to the excitement of the event. The 
townspeople would look forward to that all year."

The general store proprietors also cut and stored ice for the town. "The ice house was a little 
wooden shack where they stored all of the ice collected from the river. They would cut the ice 
blocks out of the river. Then they hooked the ice blocks to strong rope to our horse. They would 
tug the horse a bit and pull the ice out of the river. When they got all the ice they needed, 
they would cover it with sawdust.

"There was a lot of fishing on the river, too," Mrs. Current said. "I knew one fellow who would 
fish using a live box. He would catch a bunch and sell them to the townspeople. I've tried to find 
fish today that tasted that good, but back then there was no pollution and the fish tasted better."

The children around Youngstown attended Sloan's Point School and Mrs. Current walked a 
mile-and-a-half to school every day. The old school house is still standing and presently occupied. 
The big white building can be seen from Forest Lake at Thousand Hills State Park on the west side 
near the dam.

[photo caption] Left, John Henry Hediger and "Shorty" Collins in front of the General Merchandise 
Store in Youngstown. Right, this photo of the railroad bridge over the Chariton River was taken 
when the river was at flood stage.

[photo caption] Left, the Harry Balch General Store, which operated from 1900 to 1937. In front of 
the store is Harry, Irene and Hazel Balch. Above, Henry Hediger on the porch of the Henry Hediger 
General Merchandise Store and Post Office.

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The Panther Hunt

Many people in northeast Missouri claim they have seen panthers or have heard their awesome screams. 
Tangible proof of the the big cat's existence in this area is not available, but the stories persist.

On one hand, conservation agent Bill Otten tells us there might be some big cats in southern 
Missouri, but there aren't any around here. On the other hand, Clarence Upper once dug up what 
appeared to be a panther paw print some years back and turned the print over to the Adair County 
Court House. A few months later the print was on display in the window of Montgomery Ward and he has 
never seen it since.

The facts say no panthers live here but the idea that this fascinating and mysterious animal could 
be holding out in the forests of northeast Missouri intrigues us. So, If you have any information 
or stories about the existence of panthers in this area, please contact The Chariton Collector.

The term "panther" is a name loosely used for certain members of the cat family. It is given to the 
leopard, a native of Asia and Africa, and also to the puma of North America, also known as the 
cougar or mountain lion. It is the latter term we are interested in, and the word panther will be 
used instead of mountain lion.

The panther once lived throughout the forests of the United States and southern Canada. When settlers 
moved in, the animal was driven from large areas. Early settlers called the animal "mountain lion" 
because of its resemblance to a female lion. Especially in the eastern states it was known as the 
panther.

The color of the panther varies from grey or tawny (a red-dish or yellowish color) to the mysterious 
solid black. A full-grown animal may be five feet long or more, not counting the tail which is two 
to three feet long. It may weigh anywhere from 80 to 260 pounds and can cover 20 feet in one bound. 
A leap as far as 40 feet has been recorded. Panthers have been known to leap upwards to a height of 
15 feet and drop to the ground from a height of 60 feet.

Many people think the panther is highly dangerous, yet surveys show that attacks on human beings 
are rare. It may have gained its undeserved reputation of ferocity from its blood-curdling scream 
and its habit of stalking people. Some naturalists believe panthers stalk people because of curiosity.

Two stories of close encounters with panthers follow.

-- By Richard Ralston

THOSE SCREAMING CREATURES

"This is the story of a panther I seen when I was a boy back on the farm out west of Kirksville. 
One night we were working on my little brother's car. He had blown the motor in it and we were 
working on it in the garage. It was around 11:00 or 11:30 one night when we heard this awful 
screaming noise down behind the garage ... down, about one-quarter of a mile there in a ditch. 
We didn't think a whole lot about it, so we went ahead working on the car.

Very shortly, we heard another one. It was getting closer. We got concerned then, so we moved into 
the house and got ahold of Dad and he came out there. By that time it had got pretty close up there 
to the hen house, just south of the house, and let out another scream. Our dogs took to the front 
porch because they were scared to death. We were, too, but this thing finally quit and left that night.

The next morning I got up to go get the cattle in, to do the milking, but strangely enough, the 
cattle were right up against the fence, just bawlin' and a carrying on, trying to get through the 
fence. When I opened the gate, they just made a run for the barn. I couldn't figure out what was 
making them act this way. I looked down in a tree right east of the barn, and here was this great 
big black animal. I guess it was a panther.

I walked out there about 20 or 30 feet and hollered to Dad, and when I did, it piled right out of 
the tree and went on down the creek, and that was the last time I ever seen it. However, the 
neighbor down the road seen it there beside his barn a couple of weeks later when he had a similar 
accident happen. He actually got a shot at the panther. We checked the tracks out over in the creek 
the next morning from where our place was and it was a very large track, much larger than a dog, and 
definitely one which I've never seen around here before. The animal was, basically, one which is not 
in the state of Missouri. Since then there have been a lot of reports of seeing black panthers, though.

One evening we were out coon hunting out around Sperry, Mo. Our dogs went running something and very 
shortly we heard a thing let out a scream there. The dogs came back to us and we picked them up and 
headed on home for the night.
I don't know for sure whether there are panthers in the state of Missouri. They definitely have been 
seen and it's been pretty well confirmed that black panthers are what these screaming creatures are."

- By Clyde Findling as told to Terry Findling

A CLOSE ENCOUNTER

This is the story of my great-grandfather's close encounter with a panther. It happened one night when 
he was coming home from the timber around Goldsberry, Mo., located in northwest Macon County. He was 
riding his horse and as he stopped at a gate and got off to open it the horse began to act a little 
spooky. When he got back on the horse, it bolted and ran. A few yards down the road and beyond the 
gate stood a large tree with big branches hanging over the road. As they went under the tree, my 
great-grandfather felt something go by him but wasn't sure what it was.

After arriving home, he put the horse in the barn and as it was dark didn't check the horse until the 
next morning. What he saw puzzled him - the horse had long scratches down his hip which, on close 
inspection, seemed to be claw marks. When the veterinarian came out to check on the horse the next 
day, he said the wounds were definitely cat scratches ... probably from a panther.

-- By Richard Ralston From an interview with Otha E. Ralston, Jr.

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[photo caption] MISS PHRADIE WELLS as she appeared in the role of Brunnhilde in Wagner's 
"Die Valkyrie" at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City.

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Phradie Wells

"I've never known anybody to accomplish what she did who was as humble about it as she was. She 
had a beautiful humility," said Mrs. Edgar (Kathryn) Myers, a close friend of Miss Phradie Wells, 
a former resident of Kirksville and a soprano in the Metropolitan Grand Opera from 1923 to 1936.

"I think that people around here didn't know about her very much, until she passed away.

"There are many things I could tell you about her that I found interesting, things that I might 
tell you or show you so that you could see her, the kind of person that she was. I've never had 
a friend like her, ever."

Phradie Wells was born April 27, 1893, in Economy, Mo., in Macon County, which is located east of 
Atlanta, Mo. She was the daughter of William R. and Laura Wells. She came to Kirksville at the age 
of 15 or 16 with her parents, who left the farm to educate their children. She received her high 
school education in Kirksville.

Phradie thought it was "pretty silly" when Oscar Saenger said she was good enough for the Metropolitan.

Mrs. Myers first met Phradie in 1915 while she was involved in the music department at the Normal 
School. At this time Phradie was the director of the First Baptist Church Choir and she asked 
Mrs. Myers to participate in the choir, thus beginning a long and rewarding friendship for both. 
Phradie directed the choir for many years.

During her education at the Normal School, Phradie quit for a while and taught to earn enough money 
to further her education. She taught at a country school east of Kirksville called Radical Ridge. 
The school house stood where Dr. Harry Still now lives.

After graduating from the Normal School, her first good position was as supervisor of music in the 
Chillicothe, Mo., schools. She also served as director of dramatic music in the Chillicothe High 
School from 1918 to 1921.

Once Phradie was asked to give a concert in Chillicothe. Her accompanist in Kirksville at the time 
was Eva Englehart, who taught music and gave piano lessons. Eva had accompanied her several times 
previously when she was home.

Phradie, Mrs. Myers and Eva were on their way to Chillicothe for the concert, and they had traveled 
almost 100 miles when Eva said, "Phradie, I forgot the music, I forgot to bring it. I just don't 
have it."

"Forgot the music?" Phradie asked.

"Yes," she said, "but I think I can play it."

Phradie had enough confidence in her that they went through that concert without one mistake.

After she had taught in Chillicothe for a couple of years she decided to go to the city to take 
voice lessons. Mr. Gebhart, her teacher on the Normal School campus, had told her she had 
possibilities and she should work with a good teacher, one in the city. He recommended she go to 
Chicago, Ill., and study with Oscar Saenger. Saenger was a very fine voice teacher who lived in 
New York, but came to Chicago during the summer to teach voice. Thus she decided she would go to 
Chicago one summer and study with Saenger.

After he heard her sing, Saenger told her that if she would come to New York, he could get her 
into the Metropolitan Grand Opera within a year, which she thought was "pretty silly."

During the time she was in Chicago studying with Saenger, Phradie was asked to go to Denver, Colo., 
to be the supervisor of music in all of the schools in Denver. Arthur Threlkeld had taken the 
superintendency of the Denver schools and he had recommended her.

At this point she didn't know what to do. She came back from Chicago and went to Mrs. Myers' house 
one afternoon and said, "What should I do, Kathryn? Should I go to New York? I haven't any money 
really. Or should I take this wonderful position out in Denver?" Mrs. Myers suggested she go to New York.

Phradie sold the coupe she owned, and with what money she had she went to New York, giving up the 
job in Denver.

While in New York she roomed with a woman who was a family friend. She had a chance to audition for 
a solo job in a Presbyterian Church in South Orange, N.J. After completing the audition, they hired 
her to sing a solo each Sunday for which she was paid $25, a vast sum of money to her. This money 
she earned singing each Sunday took care of her room rent and part of her board. She sang in the 
church as soloist for 13 years.

She saw in a New York newspaper an advertisement from an Italian boy who wanted to exchange Italian 
lessons for English lessons, so she answered the ad. After completing a year of Italian lessons 
she could speak it and sing it well from only the lessons she received from this boy.

Later she started studying again with Saenger in New York and within nine months she was singing 
in Carnegie Hall.
"She made quite an impression on the music people who heard her," Mrs. Myers said.

Giulio Gatti-Cassazza, the director/conductor of the Metropolitan Grand Opera, heard her and asked 
her to come for an audition, which she thought was "pretty funny." Nevertheless she went, saying 
she wasn't the least bit nervous about it because she thought it wouldn't amount to anything, 
anyway. So she sang for him and in two or three days he called her back for a second audition. She 
went back and sang for him the second time and in three or four days he called her and told her he 
would like to have her on the Metropolitan roster. She had been in New York less than a year when 
this happened.

She performed with the Metropolitan Grand Opera for 13 years and sang some very important roles, 
more than she

By Annette Greer

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ever told anyone. Phradie often sang in the Sunday evening concerts at the Met.

Phradie's talent and character was well respected in opera circles. Mrs. R. E. Valentine recalls 
hearing her in quartettes with famous singers such as Elizabeth Rethberg, Lowrence Tibbet, 
Ezio Pinza and Gincomo Lauri Volpi.

While in New York Phradie wrote a letter to Mrs. Myers saying, "I wish you and Mother would get 
me a gallon of sorghum and send it to me. I want to have a Missouri dinner for Galli Curci and 
two or three other personalities in the opera company."

She served navy beans, corn bread and the sorghum molasses. But she never told anyone about these 
things, that she had entertained Galli Curci in her apartment. She would not think of it; it would 
sound as if she might be bragging and that was not in her make-up at all. She was a very unusual, 
wonderful woman, Mrs. Myers said.

One day Mr. Gatti-Cassazza called her into his office and said, "Miss Wells, I called you in to 
tell you that you are a very high type American lady, one of the finest I've ever known," She told 
this to Mrs. Myers.

Phradie had been with the Metropolitan for 13 or 14 years when Gatti-Cassazza died suddenly. The 
man who took over the opera after Gatti-Cassazza was Herbert Witherspoon. Witherspoon fired everyone 
on the roster for no reason, wiping the slate clean of American singers. He then hired all European 
singers. Witherspoon lived only a short time after that.

The next person who took over the Metropolitan was Edward Johnson. Phradie was never invited back.

"She was a person who never pushed herself. I think she could have gotten back on the roster if she 
had tried, but she didn't, Mrs. Myers said.

Once or twice she sang on the program for the President of the United States and was entertained 
in the White House once, but she would never share accounts of these events with anyone.

In the 1930s she went abroad and studied in Florence, Italy, for one summer. While on board the 
ship enroute to Europe, she wrote letters home which told of wonderful things that happened to 
her. She gave a ship concert for charity. She had ovations and received many bouquets of flowers, 
and ate at the captain's table during the voyage.

When she was no longer with the Metropolitan, she stayed in New York for a while and did some 
radio work and a great deal of church singing. Then she accepted a position as head of music in 
the Randolph Macon College in Lynchberg, Va., and was there for approximately three years.

During one summer that Phradie was home she went to Mrs. Myers' home for dinner with Mr. and 
Mrs. John L. Biggerstaff. Biggerstaff was head of the music department at the Normal School.

In the course of the evening he said to her, "Have you ever thought about coming back to the campus 
to teach?" She said no, but she didn't like Lynchberg. She got upset with the people there over 
the way they talked about Abraham Lincoln. She didn't like it and she didn't want to be there any 
longer.

She had also considered coming back to Kirksville because her mother was ill and she felt that 
she should be with her.
After traveling back to the east Phradie received a letter from Biggerstaff asking her if she would 
consider coming back. She named a price she thought he perhaps would not meet, but he did. She came 
back to the Kirksville campus to teach and to take care of her mother and father until they 
passed away

During her time at the Normal School she directed many operas.

"I never was able to understand why, when the time came that she could no longer sing her high B's 
and C's without flatting, that she quit singing," Mrs. Myers said. "Her middle register was 
beautiful, and it could be called a middle register because she could sing a high G and A beautifully.

"She never did sing any more after she retired from the teachers college. I tried to get her to do 
solo work. I tried to get her to sing in the choir, but she wouldn't," Mrs. Myers said.

[photo caption] Various photos proved how versatile Phradie could appear in performances.

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Phradie never married, but there was a man in New York who had a big estate out on Long Island, and 
he proposed to her. He was very much in love with her, but it was in the beginning of her opera 
career. He was a very wealthy man and didn't want her to continue her singing. She was not in love 
with him enough to give up her career for him, so she refused to marry him.

There was another man in New York who proposed to her. He was very wealthy, but had no occupation. 
This man lived only off of his income, and Phradie also refused him.

Phradie told Mrs. Myers that she could never marry anybody who didn't work, who didn't have some 
aim in life, something to do. She just couldn't do that.

Phradie was a Wagnerian soprano and she sang in the Wagnerian operas.

She had been in the Metropolitan Grand Opera probably just a few months when Tiffany's, the jewelry 
store in New York at the time, came out with a new jewel called a floating opal which was to be 
worn around the neck. They presented Phradie with one of these opals and a New York paper ran a 
front-page article about two new gems in New York, Phradie being one and the floating opal the 
other. A picture of her with the opal accompanied the story.

"Phradie let me wear the floating opal for about two years and then I gave it back to her," 
Mrs. Myers said.

A couple of years before she passed away Phradie told Mrs. Myers she had lost the floating opal. 
Several times since that she would tell her she had lost it.

"It was a beautiful gem and of course meant a great deal to her because of Tiffany's having given 
it to her and all of the story that was woven around it," Mrs. Myers said.

"When I dismantled the house I decided that I was going to find that opal if I didn't find anything 
else. I went through piece by piece in her dressing table, every little sack, every little box, 
just anything. And I found that opal, in a little tiny box. She hadn't looked throroughly enough 
for it." Mrs. Myers said. "I gave it to her nephew, Jimmy Wells."

While dismantling Phradie's house, Mrs. Myers found many scrapbooks, articles and many other things 
that no one had ever known about. She also found one of her costumes that had been locked away in 
a closet, but it was not in good condition.

"When I dismantled her house after she passed away, in a trunk in the basement I found many New 
York papers that told of the important roles that she sang that we had never known about in 
Kirksville. I don't know why we didn't know, but we didn't. The papers lauded her and they said 
such marvelous things about her," Mrs. Myers said.

Phradie died Sunday morning, June 1, 1980, in the St. Lukes Hospital in Kansas City where she had 
been a patient for five days.

"Now these are the the kind of friends we were with each other. We knew that neither one would do 
anything to the other purposely or deliberately; we were just on that kind of a friendship basis. 
It was just wonderful. She was quite a little older than I, but she took me under her wing when I 
came here to school. She was a very wonderful person.

"It hurt me terribly to know that in her last days she was not well and she became a recluse," 
Mrs. Myers concluded. "She didn't want to see people, she didn't like to go places, and she just 
stayed at home."

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LICKSKILLET

Six miles east of Graysville, Mo., on the Chariton River in Putnam County, there is a "place" called 
Lickskillet. This place was a part of the coal mining boom in northeast Missouri during the early 
1900s.

The name Lickskillet lives only in the memories of the people. Officially, it was known on the map 
as Mapleton, but the residents were said to be so poor that they lived mostly on fried onions and 
cow weed and had to lick the bottom of the skillet to survive. So for more than 70 years the 
unofficial name of Lickskillet took precedence over Mapleton. No matter what the map said, it was, 
and still is, Lickskillet.

To our knowledge, there is only one Lickskillet in northeast Missouri, but the name was not an 
uncommon one in the state. Many of the poorer and more isolated areas had this label attached to 
them. At one time, Missouri sported more than seven Lickskillets.

In an interview with Jack and Madie Rowland, former residents of the area, we found out what a place 
called Lickskillet was like.

The railroad came to Lickskillet in 1901 and the main business became earring coal, mining coal on 
the slope mines and making props for the railroad. There were three stores in Lickskillet during the 
early 1900s. They were run by Bill Ramsey, Coleman Fowler and the Rowland Mining Company, the latter 
being located on the north hillside.

It is difficult to talk about Lickskillet without mentioning the local landmark, Sally Mountain. 
Sally Mountain stands at the edge of Lickskillet. "This landmark was named for an old lady, Sally 
Mosley, who lived on the east side of the road in an old log cabin shack called the Sally House," 
Jack said.

"It was an awful steep hill," Jack said, "and back in the early days a Model T couldn't pull it.

"When Model T's first came out there wasn't one in 25 that could pull that hill. The gas was 
gravity-fed and had no pumps to pull the gas to the motor. As a result, the car would stall on 
the trip up the hill. The driver then had two choices. He could back up the hill or have a passenger 
remove a cushion and blow air into the tank to force the gas to the carburator.

"I don't know what the census would have been," Jack said, "but there were houses all along the north 
hillside, but most of the people lived in Lickskillet."

Coal was hauled by horse-drawn wagons. Jack remembers, "The wagons would pull along side the boxcars 
and the haulers would shovel the coal in, and the 'chunkers' were hired to shovel the coal to 
the back of the cars."

Jack's uncle, Noah Robbins, drove an old grey mare and hauled coal from the slope mines down to the 
railroad. He would pull five or six cars down the hill at a time. "One day, he started down the 
hill and didn't get his cars spragued (They would put sticks on the wheels to stop them from 
turning). The old grey mare went to running and she went right off into the car with five or six 
loads of coal falling on top of her and killed her.

"Once a day the train made a trip to Sedan, Iowa, and back (Sedan is 10 miles north of Livonia, Mo.). 
The train was primarily a freight train, although there was a caboose for the passengers. It turned 
around on the Y and brought supplies back."

That was the official business during the week. But on the weekends the popular unofficial business 
began. Jack said, "There used to be a boxcar that set off the road by the railroad tracks and on 
Saturdays and Sundays this was known as the 'gambler's hideout.' I was a good-sized boy when just 
droves of people would come to gamble. They would come from Livonia, Worthington and everywhere 
else to gamble."

[photo caption] Jack and Madie Rowland, former owners of the Rowland Mining Company, described what 
it was like to live in Lickskillet back in the days when horse-drawn carriages were more common than 
Model T's. (Photo by James Ray)

Bootlegging was also common. "The Blind Tiger," a house located near the Chariton River Bridge, 
bootlegged the whiskey brought in from Unionville.

Although the place was one of bootlegging and gambling, the participants were not without feelings. 
One Unionville man remembers that one day a woman started down Sally Mountain leading her cow. 
The cow fell and broke its neck. Well, all the gamblers were sorry for the woman and said so, 
but one said that he was "sorry five dollars - How about the rest of you?" By sunrise, they had a 
cow bought for the family.

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The first car around Lickskillet must have been a frightening thing to behold. Jack's wife, Madie, 
remembers it very well. "Simon Oliver owned the only car around and the folks called it the White 
Steamer. Pappy told us to get off the road if that old White Steamer came by because it ain't got 
no eyes  --  it can't see you. When it came down the road, me and mom took for the ditch and went 
toward the brush until the car passed. There wasn't but one car around and we were all scared to 
death of it!"

There were two schools in the area - Mapleton or Button School (the elementary school) and a school 
the kids called Hoog College (pronounced "hog"), located two miles from Sally Mountain.

Jack said, "I went to Hoog College. The old building had leaned until they cut some white oak poles 
and propped it up on the north side to keep it from falling any further. We had old wooden seats 
made out of two-by-sixes from the saw mill. The black board was just a board with a black streak 
painted across one end of it. The school didn't have any coal to heat the school house unless a 
miner's kid went there and his folks would donate a ton ever once in a while. When they didn't 
have coal, the teacher would dismiss two of the bigger boys and they would find stumps and twigs 
to keep the fire going."

July 4th was usually a day for celebration. When Jack was a kid, he remembered such a celebration 
near Lickskillet on FF Highway. "They had an old grey mare that pulled a merry-go-round. Bill 
Ramsey ran that. For the older folks, a feller ran a taxi service from FF to the Blind Tiger in 
Lickskillet where they were bootleggin' whiskey. He had a two-seated surrey and he would charge 
25 cents a trip and if four or five went, he would charge a nickle or dime."

But those were special occasions. Most of the time they created their own entertainment. Dances 
were held in their homes. "For entertainment, the children would make a ball or ride brush down," 
Jack said. Riding brush down was accomplished by two or three holding limber sprouts down while 
another one sat on it. Then they would turn it loose.

Nature has reclaimed Lickskillet now. Jack said, "About all there is now to Lickskillet is a good 
fishing place. The train died out in 1940 and then the stores went out, then the mines and the 
people who were left went to trucking."

[photo caption] This bridge is one of the few man-made landmarks still existing around the 
Lickskillet area.

By James Ray

[photo caption] Sally Mountain may not be a mountain by western standards, but it certainly is 
one of the steepest climbs in northeast Missouri. (Photo by James Ray)

[photo caption] Reprinted in April 1937, this postcard shows the Trammel family, some of the 
residents of Lickskillet.

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Scenes from the Past

[photo caption] Brick factories provided employment for many people in the early 1900s. Pictured 
in the top left photo are some of the employees of a brick factory in Des Moines, Iowa, in 1914. 
The top right photo was taken at the Johnston Harvester Co., a frequent gathering place for those 
in need of farm machinery and parts. Below left: A man afraid of hard work and long hours would 
not last long working for the railroad. William "Bill" Poston, second from the left, is shown 
with a railroad crew at Baring, Mo., during the late 1800s. This crew had the job of all excavation 
before the tracks of the Santa Fe were laid. Below right: The dress style of these immigrants 
shows the European customs brought with them to America. This photograph was taken in Adair 
County during the early 1900s.

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[photo caption] William P. Hall and son Billy


(Page 19)

THE HORSE KING OF THE WORLD

By Bobby Poston

Some called him "Diamond Billy," others "Horse King of the World," and still others "Animal King 
of the World." But to the town of Lancaster, Mo., he was Colonel William Preston Hall. And to the 
generations to follow, he grew to be known as "quite a legend" and "quite a memory." When he first 
started into the brokering of horses, little did he know that he would make the peaceful town of 
Lancaster world famous, for this is where W.P. Hall's circus career all started.

Russell Wheeler helped provide invaluable information in the completion of the history of the W.P. 
Hall Circus. Also the Schuyler County Historical Society and Duane Montgomery contributed 
information to this article.

Young Businessman

Billy P. Hall was born near Downing, Mo., on Feb. 29, 1864. When he was 12 years old, his parents 
died, so this forced him to work for a farmer at $1 a month. Duane told us that Billy hauled mine 
props from up around Martinstown into Lancaster as another source of income. "One time Billy was 
coming from Martinstown with a load and his old wagon broke a wheel. By putting his crafty mind 
to work, he got out, cut a pole, and chained it to the front of the wagon, and extended it back 
in the place of the wheel. This served as a drag to get him into Lancaster," Duane said.

Hall saved his money, and with it, bought Nigger, a coal-black horse. At the age of 15 he went 
to Lancaster, to the Stretch Livery Barn, and asked if he could work in the barn to board Nigger.

By the time he was 18, Hall was buying and selling horses steadily, and it was at this time he got 
his first break. Russell told us, "A man by the name of Meng, from Philadelphia, was in Lancaster, 
and seeing Billy was a natural expert at horse buying, approached him with this deal: 'If you will 
buy good horses and ship them back to us in Philadelphia we will pay you good.' "

Horse Sense

There are tricks to every business, and Hall knew all of them. When he would take a load of horses 
to the auction in Lancaster and a horse would fail to bring his set price, what would he do? It 
sure wasn't give up. No sir. He would get some of his crew together, send them to his barn with 
this particular horse, clip its tail and mane a little shorter, and run it back through the 
auction block. And it usually worked.

One of the ways Billy got the animals he wanted was to go out and buy directly from the farmers. 
He would drive down dirt roads and if he saw a horse he liked, he would stop, get out and examine 
the animal, and if it was what he wanted, try and find the owner, so he could set up a deal. John 
Poston remembered meeting Billy on one of these trips.

John said, "I was just a young boy when Billy came up to the house. We lived southeast of Adair, Mo. 
Billy had managed to get his car stuck, and how he did that I'll never know, because it was in 
July, and it was mighty dry.

Anyway, he wanted me to bring one of our horses down and

[photo caption] Russell Wheeler used to lead horses to the stockyard for Hall. Since he spent a 
lot of time around Hall's office and barns in the early 1920s, he grew to know him quite well.

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[image caption] Hall's elaborate circus showbill advertised "the greatest performers on earth."

pull his car to the main road. Well, I was too small to put the harness on the horse, and my dad he 
was in the fields farming, and Billy, well he wouldn't be bothered with helping me, so it was up 
to me.

"All of a sudden Billy came up with the ingenius idea of taking a rope and tying it to a knot in 
the horse's tail. So, thinking he knew what he was talking about, I took a rope and tied it to the 
horse's tail. I must have pulled that cockeyed car a half a mile. But at the end of the line, Hall 
gave me 25 cents for my efforts. Let me tell you that was the first money I had had for a long 
time, but I would have traded it all, in replacement for the thrashing I got when my dad heard 
what had taken place."

Hall's First Sale Barns

In 1895 Hall opened a sale barn in Richmond, Va., with his brother, Lou Hall, managing it. Here 
he dealt for a year and returned to Lancaster to open another sale barn. It was at this time that 
the European Market was open to Billy so he bought a sale barn in Capetown, South Africa, to make 
his dealings more convenient. Here again Lou Hall stayed in Africa and served as his brother's 
connection.

When the Boer War broke out in 1899, the English called on Hall and set up a deal with him to 
supply them with horses, which Hall did until the war's end in 1902. The war was between the 
English and South African Republic. With the huge amount of horses needed, naturally it made 
Hall a rich man. Back in Missouri, he acquired the name of Colonel Billy.

It is hard to imagine how any one man with no formal education could handle such a consistent 
business. His wife taught him how to read and sign his name to business contracts. He kept no 
formal business records because, although his reading ability was limited, his mind was sharp 
as a needle. Russell said, "He had a photographic memory."

Once a fine gentlemen came down from Bloomfield, Iowa, with a load of horses and wanted to sell 
them to Billy. One of the horses had a flaw in his left side, so Billy didn't want that one. About 
three years later this gentleman from Bloomfield sold the horse to a man in Springfield, Mo. In 
turn the man from Springfield brought this horse, along with some others for sale to Colonel 
Hall. Immediately he recognized it and said, "I've seen this horse before, and didn't want him, 
and I don't want him now."

The Ottumwa Daily Review stated, "In Corydon, Iowa, Billy Hall bought from the farmers as they 
came to offer their horses, one and two at a time, 326 head in six hours."

Animal Lover

Hall truly loved the animals he dealt with. He may have been a hurried man, having no time to 
wait for someone to get his horses together to sell, but there was always a special place in 
Hall's life for God's animals. Every morning he could be seen strolling down the main street of 
Lancaster with all the stray dogs in town tagging at his heels. They knew if they followed him 
down to the meat market, they would get a free meal. This showed just how much he loved animals. 
One thing is for sure, you never wanted to be mean to any animal if Hall was around, because he 
wouldn't have anything to do with you if you were.

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What really got Hall interested in the circus business was when he was in Europe buying horses. 
The European circuses were very detailed and this left a great impression on Billy. So he 
thought, why not bring this type of entertainment back to the United States? It wasn't until several 
years later, however, that Billy compiled a circus under his name.

The Circus

In 1904 Hall's latent circus dreams started to materialize. On Sept. 3 that year, Hall purchased 
the Nickle Plate Circus, known as the W.H. Harris Circus. Then on Sept. 16 he purchased the Walter 
Main Circus. He combined the accessories from both and formed them into the W.P. Hall Circus.

With his silk hat as his trademark, Hall's Circus opened May 6, 1905, in Lancaster. It was on the 
road until August 1905 when it was brought back to Lancaster and disbanded. This was the only time 
a circus was on the road under the name of W.P. Hall. The rest of the equipment and animals were 
sold to other circuses. His circus career on the road was over, but now he was to go back into 
business of supplying equipment for other circuses.

[photo caption] Hall's Sale Barn in Capetown, South Africa (above), was operated by his brother 
Lou. By 1895 Hall was active in the European market, shipping hundreds of horses and mules to 
Hamburg, Germany, and London, England. In 1900 he shipped an average of four carloads each day. 
Below, Hall used beautiful circus wagons to parade his performers every morning.

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[photo caption] The yard of W. P. Hall's home in Lancaster was often full of exotic animals and 
their trainers.

Hall's method for selling merchandise was a well-planned operation. If a circus needed elephants, 
he would sell them to this particular circus on time. But if they defaulted in paying for the 
animals, not only did he take back his elephants, but he repossessed the whole circus. And since a 
contract was signed at each deal, everything was legal. This was how Hall came to acquire so many 
circuses and his famed wealth.

Hall's office was in one of the old Yankee Robinson show cars. This car had a section at the back 
set up so he and his buddies could spend some of their time doing what they liked to do: gamble. In 
the front were his office quarters. He had an oak stove, two rockers and one long bench down the 
side. This bench is where the loafers sat. By the door was the phone. He quoted prices right over 
the phone, using no price guides, just his remarkable memory. Hall had a railroad siding at the 
west end of Lancaster. This was to harbor his coaches and box cars. His barns were built with two 
levels. The ground level housed wagons, tools, harnesses, etc., and the basement held the wild 
animals, as well as serving as a training arena.

When the World's Fair came to St. Louis in 1904, Hall was again called on to supply horses for it. 
This was to provide a re-enactment of the Boer War as one of the fair's attractions.

Elephant Tales

Of all the animals acquired, the elephants he bought impressed him the most. He bought his first 
two elephants, Duke & Mary, in 1904. By the time he was at the peak of his elephant dealings, he 
had acquired one of the largest single herds of elephants in the United States. In 1908 Hall 
imported 36 head of elephants from overseas. The inexperience of hauling elephants was sure to take 
its toll; by the time the shipment reached Lancaster only five survived. The rest had died of 
mishandling.

In all the years Hall was in the circus business, only two

[photo caption] Hall was more impressed with his elephants than any of the other animals he owned. 
At the peak of his elephant dealings he had one of the largest herds in the country. The photo 
above shows three of his elephants, including "Tommy Ding" and "Boo," parading the square of 
Lancaster. Right, elephants practicing tricks in Midwest barnyards would probably be considered 
an unusual sight, but Hall made it a common occurrence around Lancaster in his time.

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times did elephants die while under his ownership. One had to be shot, and the other got sick and 
laid down. Once it got down, it could not be raised, even with the workers' help, so it, too, 
died. The carcasses were buried in the grazing fields, under enormous manure piles.

The last load of elephants he bought was eight head from a fellow in Los Angeles. Little did Hall 
know that he and his crew would face a tremendous challenge at unloading this last load. Russell's 
brother, Guy, along with Bert McClain and Hall, was helping unload the elephants in Lancaster. 
Guy wanted to put a set of hobbles on the lead elephant so he would set a slow pace for the rest 
of the elephants.

But Bert said, "Oh, no that won't be necessary." As soon as the first male elephant came out of 
the car, however, it started to stampede. This elephant was mad. Billy tried everything possible 
to secure the elephant, but it was useless. Finally, they had to shoot it near Exline, Iowa.

For Sale: One Circus, Complete

In May 1932, Billy decided to turn some of his holdings into cash. Since the Great Depression had 
a firm grip on the economy, everyone was in need of money. He ran a billboard reading: "For Sale: 
elephants, cat animals, bears, camels, railroad cars, wagons, cages, canvas, seats, etc. Will sell 
cheaply for cash. W.P. Hall, Lancaster, Missouri."

On June 30, 1932, Billy died of cancer at the age of 68. He had seen his circus dreams blossom, 
and now they had withered and were over.

But from 1932 to 1938, Bert McClain, along with Mrs. Hall, attempted to sell the remaining 
merchandise. By 1938 the W.P. Hall Circus was completely sold off. But the impression Billy left on 
Lancaster and the rest of the world by bringing laughter, with every circus he brought to town, 
would not be forgotten.

[photo caption] Hall was active in the European market in the late 1890s, and specialized in horses 
and mules. From 1895 to 1900, Hall made more than 30 trips to Europe with the animals. It was 
on these trips that Hall developed his interest in the circus business.

[photo caption] Top photo, the W. P. Hall home in Lancaster is now a museum owned by the Schuyler 
County Historical Society. Left, elephants pulling fancy carts full of fancy ladies were also a 
common sight in northeast Missouri. Hall decided to turn some of his holdings into cash when the 
Great Depression hit, so he put all of his animals and circus equipment up for sale. He died shortly 
after, and relatives continued to sell the remaining merchandise for the next six years.

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Syrup for the Tapping

By Mark McIntyre and Chris Collop

As we were driving down behind the dam of Forest Lake on an old shale road, we looked off toward 
the old Chariton River. We saw several hundred trees with one-gallon milk jugs hanging on them.

We drove on down the road about another quarter of a mile and saw a contraption that had the 
appearance of a still. For a moment we thought we were back in the times of Prohibition. We could 
imagine what people would think when they saw it. They would probably wonder who the crazy man was 
that would put a still right along a public road. Well, the man isn't crazy nor is the contraption 
a still. It's just Etzel Sanders' cooker-evaporator, which he uses for his maple syrup operation.

Etzel has been making maple syrup most of his life. When he was a boy, his mother would say, "Etzel, 
you better get out there and tap the trees; the sap's running!" He would use a hollowed-out 
elderberry twig for the tube, allowing the sap to flow into a bucket. To evaporate his sap he would 
put it in a metal bucket on the family's wood-burning cook stove.

Etzel has considerably improved and modernized his operation since he was a boy. Today he uses an 
empty 12-gauge shotgun shell for the tube and he uses a water tank from an old steam engine for 
the evaporator.

Etzel says selecting the tree is the easiest part of making maple syrup. Any species of maple will 
do; however, some work better than others. Neither the age nor the size of the tree makes any 
difference. The tapping process does not harm the tree, either.

To tap the tree, Etzel drills a 3/4" hole into the tree about chest high, four inches back. As many 
as four or five holes may be bored into the tree depending upon its size. An empty 12-gauge 
shotgun shell (with the metal end cut off) serves as the tube for the sap to flow through. Etzel 
hammers the tube into the hole until about an inch is left outside the tree.

To catch the sap, Etzel cuts out a gallon milk jug, as shown in the photograph, and then nails it 
to the tree.

The sap looks and tastes like water. It usually begins to flow during late February and continues 
through March. The sap is colorless and it is only during the cooking process that it begins to 
change and take on the rich brown color associated with maple syrup.

When the jug is full, Etzel unscrews the cap on the jug, which allows the sap to fall into a 
bucket. He then covers the bucket with a lid and loads it into his truck to haul to the 
cooker-evaporator.

The sap usually contains from two to three percent sugar but can contain as much as 10 percent sugar 
depending upon the quality of the tree. The cooking process evaporates the water and miraculously 
changes the color of the sap. The reason for the color change is that there is less water in the 
sap to hide its color.

Before pouring the sap into the pan, a clean cloth is stretched across the top of the bucket to 
keep any debris out of the syrup. Cooking the sap is the most tedious part of making maple syrup; 
however, it does allow one to catch up on all the gossip.

The stove part of the cooker was made from the water tank on an old steam engine. It has been 
lined with firebricks.

A hot fire is built in the stove so that the sap will come to a boil. The top of the stove has 
been cut away so that the bottom of the pan is in direct contact with the flames.

The pan is constructed of a stainless steel bottom with two by eights for the sides. It has the 
appearance of a john boat. The reason for the stainless steel bottom is to keep the fire from 
burning through and the syrup from sticking. Also the stainless steel is very clean.

The sap is cooked for about a day to reach syrup consistency. If it is desired, it can be cooked 
longer to reach the sugar stage. But remember, the longer the sap is cooked, the less sap produced. 
Approximately 120 gallons of sap equals six gallons of syrup.

After the sap has been cooked, it must be sealed in jars or frozen to prevent spoilage.

When Etzel got all of the maple syrup he wanted, he asked Clifford Scrivens if he wanted to make 
some. Clifford agreed and he is pictured in some of the photos on these pages.

Many people don't realize that if they have a maple tree in their yard, they are sitting on a gold 
mine of sweets that cost nothing. Or even if they don't make very much, they have the satisfaction 
of saying to their neighbors, "I made this maple syrup myself!"

[photo caption] Etzel Sanders doesn't buy his maple syrup at grocery stores; instead he manufacturers 
it himself. His companion in this photo is his mule Jake.

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[photo caption] In top left photo, Etzel takes a break after tearing down an old house for fuel for 
the cooker. Top right is Etzel's maple tree patch, owned by Marvin Mears. The two center photos show 
the tap and collector, and Etzel with his cooker-evaporator. Bottom left, Clifford Scrivens pours 
the sap, using a cloth over the bucket for a strainer. Below right, Clifford prepares the fire for 
another batch of syrup.

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THE PALACE BAKERY

[photo caption] This is how The Palace Bakery looked when it was operated by William Bondurant 
(pictured behind counter on the right).

By Charla Morris and Kim Wayman

"We had all these folks and I knew everybody in town then. It was such a popular place," recalls 
Mrs. Ethel Bohon about The Palace Bakery.

The Palace Bakery was owned and operated by the Bondurant family in northeast Missouri for more 
than 50 years. The Palace was famous for its bread, candy, cakes, cookies and ice cream, and it was 
a favorite place for the students in town.

In 1907, Mrs. Bohon's father and Bill Bondurant's grandfather, James D. Bondurant Sr., moved to 
Kirksville from Downing, Mo., where he had owned a hardware store. His children were growing up and 
he wanted them to be able to attend college. Upon moving to Kirksville, he purchased from Mr. Curry 
and Mr. Pease a business on the east side of the square and called it The Palace. For a number of 
years, the business was operated as a soda fountain and confectionary. The bakery then went into 
making cookies, bread and ice cream.

It was a family business. "My father always liked to keep the large family of us together. There 
were seven boys and three girls in my family. We all would work in the bakery and they would open 
up at about 5 o'clock in the morning. Sometimes when there were big parties, we worked until 2 or 
3 o'clock in the morning," Mrs. Bohon said. She worked as a secretary for the bakery from 1907 to 1915.

"We just made some of the best ice cream that anybody ever made," she said.

"The retail bakery was quite a busy place for a long time," Mrs. Bohon said. "They made ice cream 
in this place and when we bought it, the bake shop was across the alley. Mack Hopewell made ice 
cream upstairs. Mack was such an expert at it. He made some of the best ice cream! A delicious 
flavor was Norwegian Lemon Ice. The Stills and the Laughlins went overseas to England and 
brought the recipe back with them. They liked the Norwegian Lemon Ice. It was exclusive for a 
while but everyone wanted it so we sold a lot of it. The ice cream was so good and different."

In the latter part of the 1920s, trucks became available. The bakery started two wholesale 
routes, one east of Kirksville and one west of Kirksville. As time went on and highways got better, 
they expanded those routes. At one time, the bakery had nine trucks running daily throughout 
northeast Missouri. These routes went as far north as Kahoka; as far east as Canton; south to Macon, 
Bucklin and Marceline; and west to Harrison, Newtown, Milan and Unionville.

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[photo caption] Left to right are Earl Bondurant; Paul Bondurant; Mack Hopewell (the ice cream maker); 
James D. Bondurant Sr., owner; and Will Bondurant.

In 1920 Will and Jim Bondurant decided to expand the business, so land was purchased where the 
Commerce Bank now stands. "My father thought that was a little bit too much and it would cost a 
lot of money, but my two brothers decided to go ahead with the plan." The Palace, then located on 
the east side of the square, was moved into the new building on the corner of McPherson and Marion 
streets.

When the wholesale business was started, bread and ice cream was distributed throughout the northern 
part of the state. In the early 1920s, the merchandise was shipped by train. The ice cream was 
packed in wooden tubs with ice and salt to keep it cold and put on the trains to be shipped to the 
nearby towns for drug stores and soda fountains.

In those days the bread was not sliced; they didn't have slicing machines or wrapping machines. They 
had crates that would hold 20 to 25 loaves of bread. The crates were lined with paper; then the bread 
was put in. It was sealed and taken down and put on the train, and sent to the stores which had 
ordered it. It would be there the next morning.

"As things progressed, the slicing machines came into style. I can remember the first slicing machine 
the bakery got. The bread was run through and, of course, wrapped." Bondurant remembers.

Mrs. Bohon said, "We had a milk route and we delivered all over town. They bottled the milk and 
delivered it around to the towns. There were two railroads, the O.K. and the Wabash. They went 
through here and we had 12 or more trains in and out of Kirksville every day."

[photo caption] The Palace Bakery building as it looked in late evening.

As the business expanded they purchased the Burk Brothers Packing Plant in the west part of town. It 
was converted into a dairy processing plant. The milk was pasteurized and the ice cream made to be 
kept in hardening rooms to keep the ice cream hard and the milk cold. The bakery received milk 
directly from the farmers. The farmers brought the milk to the dairy to be weighed, tested and 
processed. At the bakery's peak, the total employment was 55 to 60 people.
	
As time went on, the large companies came into Kirksville from St. Louis; Kansas City; Quincy, III.; 
and Ottumwa, Iowa. The competition became stiff. The supermarket chains would contract with the 
larger bread and milk companies, forcing some of the small dairies and bakeries out of business.	

By the early 1960s, many small groceries were going out	of business; supermarkets were taking over. 
As a result, the bakery was closed in 1963. The building was sold to the Commerce Bank and they 
tore down The Palace Bakery to build a new bank building.	

The Palace Bakery is missed by many people who remember it. "Even today people tell me how much 
they miss having the bakery in town," Mrs. Bohon said. The past owners of The Palace Bakery are 
still appreciated today for their loyal service to the community for more than 50 years.

THE PALACE BAKERY
FANCY CHOCOLATES CONFECTIONS
Quality Kind Ice Cream
Our Ice Cream Parlor is Headquarters for Students
You Are Welcome Here
THE PALACE BAKERY
East Side Square

[advertisement caption] This appeared on in the 1916 Tigris, the third yearbook published by the 
Senior class at Kirksville High.

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North Against South . . . GIFFORD

It is hard for us to realize how important railroads have been to the towns in America. Railroads 
were the backbone of many communities. Gifford, Mo., is one such town, for the railroads both made 
and destroyed this community.

Gifford is located in northwest Macon County, about 25 miles southwest of Kirksville. Gifford was 
founded as a shipping point on the Iowa and St. Louis Railroad to replace the livestock drives to 
Hannibal, Mo.

Controversy developed in the settlement over the location of the railroad depot. Some wanted the 
depot to be built in the north part of town and others wanted it in the south part.

Grover Belfield recalls, "Allen Pudley of South Gifford owned some land where the depot could be 
built, but he wanted a good price for it. The Nelson brothers of North Gifford (David and Ike) gave 
the railroad company six acres of land from the Adair County line south. So the depot was built in 
North Gifford.

"These North Gifford fellers had a contract with the railroad company. They would give the company 
that land, and in turn, the railroad agreed that there wasn't to be another depot or stockyards 
within three miles of North Gifford."

This contract did not make South Gifford happy. Town meetings were held to try to change it; Grover 
attended some of these meetings. But the agreement was not changed.

A swamp several feet wide divided North and South Gifford and became known as no-man's land. A path 
across no-man's land connected the two towns.

The business district of North Gifford included a post office, a livery stable, Crow's Hotel, a 
hardware store, T.I. Murray's General Store, a box factory for egg cases, a lumberyard, a tile 
factory, a restaurant, a Baptist Church and a bank operated by Clay Surbeck.

The first place of business in South Gifford was a post office operated by John and Martha Lagles. 
Other businesses included a hotel, a poultry house, a feed store, a tile factory, two banks and a 
Christian Church.

Rivalry continued between North and South Gifford but an agreement was finally decided upon. The 
first town to reach a population of 100 would claim the name. In 1914, Bernice Mock was born in 
South Gifford to make the 100th person, and South Gifford became the official name. North Gifford 
had only reached a population of 89. The winner also claimed the railroad depot and it was moved 
to the location where it stands today.

South Gifford had two banks at one time and Virgil Buck recalled the time one of them was robbed. 
"The Gifford Bank was robbed one time and they knew who robbed it, but they never did catch him. 
The robber was a feller from up around Yarrow. He took one or two hostages from the bank. Around 
Cameron, Mo., he turned them loose and gave them enough money to get back to Gifford. I'm not sure 
what they got, but it might have been around $800."

Virgil remembers the type of entertainment that went on in Gifford. "They used to have free shows 
there every Saturday night and people from all around would come with horses

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[photo captain] The hardware store in Gifford served as the background for this photo of several 
Gifford townspeople. The man with the badge is George Kelly, the sheriff of the town.

and buggies and walk down to the picture show building. Sometimes Vaudeville would come in and they 
would have a show that would last a week. Once in a while a carnival would move in.

"The high school would have track meets and other schools would come into Gifford to compete. That 
was a big day."

In the early 1920s, baseball games played an important part in most small towns and Gifford was no 
exception. During this time, Gifford had one of the best baseball teams in the area.

The two most important games played were against Hannibal and Kirksville.

Gifford defeated them both, downing Hannibal 3-1 and Kirksville 8-1.

Virgil said Emmett Corrigan's Novinger team travelled in style. Emmett owned and operated several 
coal mines around Novinger and managed the town's baseball team.

"Whenever Novinger would come to Gifford, Emmett would go over to Milan and hire the whole train 
to bring the players to Gifford. The train would sit down there at the station until the game was 
over and then take them back to Novinger," Virgil said.

Gifford players during that time included: Grover Belfield; Jim Mock, catcher; Earl Green and Buck 
Lynch from Goldsberry; M.E. Dudley; Albeit Hays; Lloyd Hays; Bill Gray; Albert Sadler and Lewis Pole.

Pitchers were Dutch Lagle and Irving Hartgrove; the manager was Harry Davidson. "The Gifford team 
once held their opponents scoreless through games that totaled 57 innings," Grover said.

After the glory of the baseball games, Gifford's end was near. During the depression, the Bank of 
Gifford went broke. The town managed to survive while other towns were ruined.

The final blow came in the late 1940s. The Iowa and St. Louis Railroad was waging a legal battle 
with the Santa Fe Railroad over crossing rights. The courts decided against the Iowa and St. Louis 
Company and Gifford's fate was sealed. Soon after this the railroad abandoned its interest in 
Gifford. Gifford's population melted away and the few businesses that survived the depression 
were ruined by the decrease in business.

[photo captain] Above, Virgil Buck and Ray Easley are two of the men pictured in front of the MFA 
Exchange. Left, the Christian Church was located in South Gifford along with the post office, 
hotel, a poultry house, feed store, and two banks.

By John Buck

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Kirksville Community Sale Barn

Hey, what'll ya give me?

"Sale Barns Do Million Dollar Business Here," was the title of an article that appeared in the 
Kirksville Daily Express May 18, 1952. That article reported that many people don't consider sale 
barns a big business even though $3 1/4 million would change hands each year.

The Kirksville Community Sale, located at 116 South Wabash, is one of the oldest sale barns in 
Missouri still operating in the original location. Started by Austin Martin in 1920 in an old 
livery stable south of the Wabash Station, it has been in operation for 61 years.

Martin ran a cash-only business, which is a mind-boggling fact in a day where checks are so 
prevalent. After the sale he would ask for an escort to follow him home so no one could rob him 
on the way.

Fred A. Bailey, the second owner of the barn, recounts what happened after the sales were over. 
"I used to work for Mr. Austin and when the sale was over he would always send to town and get a 
gallon or two of coffee and a sandwich, and a piece of pie apiece, but before he sent for it he 
would tell some of us we could go home if we wanted to - but most of the time we stayed to partake 
of the pie and coffee and sandwiches. Then if we had an extra penny or two he would say we could 
have a game of "crackaloo" and we'd get over behind the stove in the wintertime and match pennies."

The old livery barn was torn down about 1925 or 1926 and replaced with a pole structure. All 
livestock was sold by the head out of the pens until scales and a ring were put in around 1949 or 
1950. Cement floors were added to the sale area and pens in 1954.

At first about all that was sold was horses and mules along with farm machinery, hay and posts. 
Then about 1928, when farmers could take tractors and farm more in less time, horses started getting 
scarce so more hogs, cattle and sheep were sold.

In 1952 Bailey bought the barn from Martin for $10,000.

In the first years he and his wife, Opal, owned the barn, the average sale was $20,000 to $30,000. 
Even though they were used to selling 800 to 1,000 head of hogs every week, Bailey recalls a sale in 
the fall of 1964 that kept them running. Trucks were lined up from the railroad tracks to Franklin 
Street. Bailey gives no economic reason for this; he attributes it to the time of year.

Bailey has many fond memories of the excitement that seems to linger around the old barn. He brought 
back to life the good times along with the scary ones in these stories he related.

"One time we had some pigs people didn't want to buy so I sold the sow by the pound. Then I said the 
first five kids to

[photo caption] Working the Ring Clarence Findling was working the ring in this 1952 photo of a 
sale in progress. The Kirksville Community Sale Barn is one of the oldest sale barns in Missouri. 
Frederick Bailey currently owns the barn, which is still in its original location on Wabash Street 
south of the old Wabash Railroad Station in Kirksville.

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get over in the ring and catch a pig could have it. But it kind of surprised me because the first 
person in the ring was a 50-year-old man."

Almost immediately after finishing this story, Bailey started another on a slightly more serious note.

"We hadn't been there too long and a man backed up to unload five calves and he started to pull away 
before the boys got the gate shut. One calf got out so we yelled at the man that owned them. He got 
nervous and excited and backed up too fast and hit the shoot and bounced away and another calf got 
out. Then he did that until he had three calves out. Two of them are all we got drove back in and 
the other one went about two miles south of town.

In the process of trying to catch him we got him overheated so we cut his throat and butchered him 
on the spot and paid the owner by the average weight and price of his other calves." Then with a 
small chuckle Bailey added, "A friendly farmer turned us in for rustling cattle."

Bailey also described a kind of "rodeo event" at the sale barn. "A buyer that bought mostly bulls 
would have us turn his bulls together and let them fight before we loaded them

[photo caption] The Community Sale Barn is still a busy marketplace on Saturdays. Pictured above is 
Lorne Reese during a sale.

[photo caption] At first only horses and mules were sold at the community sale barn. After more scales 
and pens were added, however, cattle, sheep and hogs were taken there for sale also. This photo was 
probably taken in the 1930s.

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in the truck so they wouldn't fight and hurt the other cattle after they were loaded. It was always 
kind of a show for anyone around."

The auction has always been a consignment sale. Livestock was brought in by farmers. It was then 
numbered, penned and sold. Buyers from John Morrell, Oscar Mayer and other packers along with local 
farmers and traders lined the wooden benches every Saturday to watch the procession of animals. 
Usually a sale lasted from three to five hours depending on the weather and the time of year.

As they could 61 years ago, buyers and traders can still come every Saturday to hear the current 
owner, Frederick Bailey, call for bids in the extraordinary chant of the auctioneer.

Modern technology has provided machines to speed up the sale and make it as efficient as possible, 
but there is still that country feeling when the auctioneer calls, "Hey, what'll ya give me?"

[photo caption] After 60 years in operation the Kirksville Community Sale Barn is still going strong. 
Various improvements over the years changed the barn considerably.

[photo caption] Every Christmas pictures were taken of the employees to use as an advertisement in 
the local paper. Employees in the 1957 Christmas photo are (first row, left to right) Frank 
Goldsberry, Donnie Riley, Ralph Major, J. W. Harris, Lee McElhinney, Jane Copp, Frederick Bailey, 
Opal Bailey, Ira Harris, Bob Mabis, Donnie Findling and Fred A. Bailey. In the back row are Clarence 
Findling, Butch Long, Janet Bailey, Ernie Welch, Bob Conner and Dr. Rodabaugh.

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