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THE CHARITON COLLECTOR

NORTHEAST MISSOURI HISTORY AND FOLKLORE
Spring 1988
$2.95


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THE CHARITON COLLECTOR
Kirksville Senior High School
Kirksville, Missouri
Spring, 1988
Vol 8 No. 2 Issue 16

The Chariton Collector is published by the Missouri State History class of Kirksville Senior High 
School. This special class attempts to preserve the history and local folklore of Northeast 
Missouri. Copyright 1988.

COVER PICTURE
Mrs. Bess Harper owns this colorful Mexican village painting by William Unger. Other pictures of 
his work can be found in Brian Riley and Cathy Mitchell's story on page 8.

CONTENTS

A College . . . Where? . . . . . 2
Lisa Winkleman

Sperry's Own Dr. Kennedy . . . . . 6
David May

William Unger  -  A Man Who Taught People How to See . . . . . 8
Brian Riley and Cathy Mitchell

Scenes from the Past . . . . . 12

Kirksville Through the Eyes of a Native . . . . . 14
Shelly Hoffman

A Still and Lasting Foundation . . . . . 19
Cathi Fredricks and Kim Crosley

SENIOR EDITOR
Jean McCullough

JUNIOR EDITOR
Brian Riley

DISTRIBUTION MANAGERS
Shelly Hoffman
Cathi Fredricks

[photo caption] Friendship cards were used in the early 1800s before autograph books. A short 
feature on these books is the subject of Scenes from the Past on page 12.


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A COLLEGE ... WHERE?

As the end of the high school year draws near, most seniors are thinking about colleges, colleges, 
and more colleges.

One college that a senior might have thought about attending in the late 1800s may have been Oaklawn 
College in Novelty, Missouri, located 12 miles south of Edina in Knox County.

Oaklawn College was founded in 1876 by Dr. W. N. Doyle on the top floor of the public school building 
at Novelty. Professor Doyle had taught in Kansas, Missouri, and Nebraska before coming to Novelty. In 
the days before high schools and colleges were more developed, colleges offered classes to both high 
school and college students.

Oaklawn was a private boarding school that operated on the tuition and fees charged for the classes, 
but began as a high school at the public school building.

The school offered many classes, from elocution (reading orally) to shorthand. Oaklawn's catalog, 
dated 1896-97, boasted that the college was away from temptation of "big city colleges" and that it 
was also the "cheapest school in the West." Oaklawn expanded within a year, therefore needing new 
facilities such as a place for students to stay and more teaching rooms. "Professor Doyle purchased 
ten acres to build the college when he saw that it was going to be a pretty good school," said 
Junior Wilkerson, citizen of Novelty and history enthusiast.

The new campus, which was started in June, 1877, and completed in 1881, was on ten acres in the 
eastern part of Novelty. It consisted of a main building where classes were conducted, a boarding 
house, a men's dormitory which had nine rooms, and a women's dormitory, also with nine rooms. These 
new buildings were beautifully decorated with frescoes, mottos, and classical figures on both the 
interior and exterior. Oaklawn received its name from the many oak trees that were growing on and 
near campus.

EXPENSES.

TUITION.

Collegiate, Normal, Business and Shorthand Courses 
for ONE TUITION, per term . . . . .                                                  $ 9 00
Tuition in all of these departments for School Year, all paid in advance . . . . .    25 00
Private lessons in Elocution, per term . . . . .                                      12 00
Law Course, extra, per term . . . . .                                                  6 00
Use of Typewriter, per term . . . . .                                                  3 00
"	"	per month, for less than two months . . . . .                          1 50
Fee for entering Business Department, charged but once . . . . .                       3 00
"	"	Shorthand Department, "	"	" . . . . .                            6 00
"	Latin, German or French,	"	"	". . . . .                     3 00
Instrumental Music, per term of 20 lessons . . . . .                                   10 00
Vocal Music, per term . . . . .                                                        3 00
Painting, per term . . . . .                                                           10 00
BOARD.
Board and Tuition at the College, per term . . . . .                                   $33 00 to $36 00
Table Board at the College, per term . . . . .                                         21 00
"	"	and Tuition, per term . . . . .                                        30 00
Board in private families, per week . . . . .                                          $2 00 to 2 50
GRADUATION.
All diplomas conferring degrees . . . . .                                              $5 00
All other diplomas . . . . .                                                            3 00
Expenses are due and payable in advance. We can loan you the money to pay your board and tuition, and 
give you long or short time as you may desire.
TERMS.
Tuition must be paid in advance, or satisfactory arrangements made with the President. Eight per 
cent will be added to all bills if not paid within ten days after they become due. Students may 
enter at any time. No deduction will be made for absence the first and last week of each term.	

[photo caption] This sketch shows the main building of Oaklawn College which was erected in 1881.

The college offered many different types of classes but centered mainly on business and teaching 
courses.

These classes were graded as 100 percent was perfect, 90 percent was very high excellence, 80 
percent was very good, 70 percent was good, 60 percent was fair, 50 percent was poor, and 40 
percent was very poor. Parents were encouraged to follow their son's or daughter's progress from 
term to term, with report cards mailed to the student's parents at the end of each term.

Some classes at Oaklawn were "free." The free classes included shorthand, bookkeeping, elocution, 
German, French, and Latin. Though each of these classes was considered free, a student had to pay 
a small entrance fee that was charged only once per term; the cost depended on the class. Other 
students paid a tuition of $25 and a boarding fee of $72 which included the room, lights, and 
fuel, so the cost for expenses was minimal; the 1896-97 catalog boasted that students saved money 
while getting the same education as a more expensive college.

If students could not afford any or all of these expenses, the college offered to loan any student 
money. If for some reason

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[photo caption] Professor W. N. Doyle, founder and president of Oaklawn College for its first ten 
years, had taught and served us as principal of many prestigous schools in Missouri, Nebraska, and 
Kansas before coming to Novelty, Missouri, in 1876.

a student had to miss any class and wanted a refund of tuition for the time missed, it was not 
possible; however, the student could make up the time missed by coming back to the college and using 
facilities open to him. The college offered no refunds if the student was expelled or suspended since 
the college would not encourage that sort of behavior.

Of course there were many instructors to teach the various classes and to enforce the rules at 
Oaklawn, even though the teacher's salary was quite low compared to what college teachers receive in 
pay today. Even Professor Doyle was not excluded from teaching; he taught moral and mental science, 
languages, literature, pedagogics (teaching methods), and law. Professor Doyle was president from 
1876 through 1886. From 1886 through 1888 the school was headed by M. Simpson. In 1888 through 1890 
Oaklawn was headed by C. H. Wise. Oaklawn was run efficiently, though the number of students and 
incoming tuition decreased. Professor Doyle returned and headed the school until its closing in 1899. 
Since he was a lawyer, he may have found a situation where he was needed or he may have tired of 
Novelty. Why he originally left has passed into obscurity.

The 1896-97 catalog offered four courses of study: a Music-Course in Instrumental Music-Piano Forte, 
a Teacher's Course, a Normal Course, and a Science Course. Each course was outlined in the catalog. 
An example of a first year class schedule from the Normal Course (which would be the same as the 
Teacher's Course) would be:

First Term: Orthography, Grammar, Fractional, Arithmetic, Elocution, Penmanship 
Second Term: Grammar, U.S. History, Arithmetic, Geography, School Organization 
Third Term: High Arithmetic, Physiology, Physical Geography, Civil Government, Methods in Reading

The Normal Course included three years and the Teacher's Course included the same first two years 
of the Normal Course. The terms usually lasted for three months at a time. Oaklawn

[photo caption] One of the two degrees that the college specialized in was the Bachelor of Accounts. 
This diploma, 24 inches by 24 inches, was given to James Kennedy in February, 1898.

[photo caption] The report card of Mamie Stout for the term ending February 24, 1898.

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Faculty.

W. N. DOYLE, A. M., Ph. D., President of the College. - Moral and Mental Science, Languages, 
Literature and Pedagogics, Law.
EDGAR H. WHITNEY, B. Ph. D., Principal of Shorthand and Commercial Institute. - Teacher of 
Shorthand, Book-keeping, Commercial law and Arithmetic.
W. M. RITTER, B. Ph. D., Mathematics and Natural Science.
S. E. BOTSFORD, M. S. - Christian Ethics.
A. C. HUNSAKER. - Language, Algebra, and Arithmetic.
REV. H. M. MYERS - Lecturer on Ancient and Modern History.
J. A. M'WILLIAMS, M. D. - Lecturer on Human and Comparative Anatomy.
A. ARNETT, M. D. - Lecturer on Physiology and Hygiene.
H. T. BOTTS, LL. B. - American Law.
MISS A. GRUBB - Algebra, and the Common School Branches.
J. D. LYON - Official Surveyor - Practical Land Surveying.
PROF. JOHN R. HOWEY - Voice Culture, Vocal and Instrumental Music.
MRS. S. J. TAYLOR - Landscape and Floral Painting.
PROF. EDGAR WHITNEY, Secretary.
PROF. WILLIAM RITTER, Librarian.
J. W. PARKS, Curator of the Building.

Our Faculty.

We take pleasure in calling attention to our strong and able Faculty. They are tried, experienced, 
and successful teachers, chosen for their especial fitness for the work they have to do.

had three terms that started in September, November, and March. The students received a 
Thanksgiving, Christmas, and spring vacation. Students could also enter the college at any time 
during the term without penalty.

The students who attended Oaklawn, according to the 1896-97 catalog, were "not like the wild 
students"; the wild students went to the bigger colleges "to have a 'good time.'" Wild students 
were not welcome at Oaklawn; students backward in their studies were encouraged to take private 
lessons to equal their peers. An average of 104 students attended Oaklawn College each year with 
about an even number of male and female students.

Extra-curricular activities centered on Oaklawn's Literary Societies, especially Oaklawn Literary, 
the senior society. Students especially looked forward to the weekly Literary Society meetings. This 
was the only time young men and women were allowed to date each other. All students were expected 
to attend the meetings, whether or not they took part in the activities.

Only five years after being built, the men's dormitory burned to the ground. Officials never knew 
how the fire started, though they knew it started in the northwest comer of the second floor.

In 1867, the North Missouri Normal School and Commercial College was opened in Kirksville, Missouri. 
Since Oaklawn could not compete with the better equipment Kirksville had, like newer typewriters and 
better efficiency in public schools, Oaklawn closed. Oaklawn had been running strong for 23 years. 
"It has been handed down for generations in Novelty that if Novelty had been a foot higher in 
elevation, the Normal School would have been located in Novelty instead of Kirksville. They wanted 
to put the school in the highest part of Northeast Missouri and Kirksville is the highest, one foot 
more than Novelty," said Mr. Wilkerson.

The main building on campus was dismantled in 1899 and moved to Hurdland, Missouri. Part of it was 
made into a home and it now stands today.

Oaklawn College was a beautiful and healthy place for students to attend and learn. Even though the 
school does not exist anymore, Oaklawn still existed in the hearts of those who attended it, 
especially R. B. Sharp, a graduate of 1888, who read the poem "Oaklawn Memories" for the annual 
Homecoming of Oaklawn College in 1940:

In looking backward to the times 
Of fifty years or more,
These memories come into my mind 
Of things as were of yore.
Half hidden by the forest trees,
The college building looms:
With broad veranada to the fore,
Its hall and recitation rooms.

[photo caption] The front cover of Oaklawn's first newspaper, the OAKLAWN INSPIRATOR, dated November, 
1895.

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I see the frescoes on the walls;
The poet Goethe as he stood,
His knee on chair with book in hand,
In thoughtful attitude.
I see the broad and shady lawn 
The board walk, built to supply 
An easy access to the rooming house 
And the residence near by.
I hear again the bell ring out,
Its morning clarion call.
I hear the noise of mounting feet 
To the assembly hall.
I see each student at his place 
And hear the call to rise;
For school was always to begin 
With calisthenic exercise.
When we had mastered every move 
Of arms and legs and feet,
The next call was position 
As each stood at his seat.
Then forward was the word
 And each must keep the step.
Nor mar the music nor the time 
By lack of proper pep.
Thus were formed the glimmering lines 
As all marched to and fro;
Stepping to quick music,
Each face was soon aglow.
Then came the order, "Face About";
All soon were in retreat.
When all had reached their proper place 
The first call was complete.
Then there came a new command - 
All marched the opposite way 
Each on his own appointed side 
Was destined now to stay.
Until he reached the center aisle,
There both sex marched together 
If some were pleased or some were not, 
It all depended on whether,
The right one came to catch the step 
He wished to keep forever.
Where eyes were keen and minds alert, 
It was easy to discover,
That at Oaklawn as at other schools 
Some always met a lover.
And be it said that of a truth 
Some trysts that them were pending, 
Of later date were consummate,
And with a happy ending.
When every one had reached his place 
The exercise was o'er,
With commanding mein and stately step 
Professor took the floor.
Then perchance for half an hour,
He spoke of wisdom's ways 
Exhorting all to seek them then,
And in their future days.
Each class to their appointed room 
Immediately would repair,
The monitor in the study hall 
Assumed the ruling chair.
Thus day by day the program went 
Until commencement day had come 
That ended with reunion,
With farewells and for home. 
Commencement could not show 
The final grading in life's school -  
Events are oft encountered there 
That are not won by rule.
For some have filled an early grave;
Disease has conquered others,
Fate always takes a toll,
It sometimes does of brothers.
Our schoolmates then were young and fair 
Some now are gray and worn.
And all are traveling to the place 
Of their eternal bourne 
They must soon hear the last roll call,
And in the record they have made,
May it be said of everyone 
They made a passing grade.

[photo caption] Oaklawn's main building was dismantled in 1899 and moved to Hurdland. As a home 
it still stands today on Highway 6 East.

By Lisa Winkleman

Photos courtesy of Junior Wilkerson.

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Sperry's Own Dr. Kennedy

With the death of Marion Francis Kennedy, M.D. on January 2, 1950, came the end of an era in which 
rural America was served by men known as "country doctors." It was a period in history before truly 
modern medicine, during which one's best hope for a physician often lived next door. "Doc" Kennedy, 
as he was commonly known, was considered the consummate example of the country doctor, filling 
the roles of healer, neighbor, and friend.

He was born on January 4, 1878, and spent his youth on a farm 14 miles northwest of Memphis, 
Missouri, during which he attended rural schools. His education was continued for one year at the 
Keokuk (Iowa) Medical College before he attended the St. Louis School of Medicine, from which he 
graduated in 1907. He paid for his advanced education by working on a thrashing crew, a group of 
men who run a steam engine separating the grain from the straws. Barnes Hospital in St. Louis was 
the site of further study and observation for the young Dr. Kennedy. Upon leaving St. Louis, he 
entered into private practice with his brother-in-law, Dr. Charles A. Gibbs. They practiced together 
in Bible Grove for the next nine years.

Following the loss of the doctor at Sperry in the fall of 1916, a representative of the community 
asked Dr. Kennedy to fill his position. They offered a house, built and once occupied by Dr. Wilford 
Martin, who later died on the battlefields of France. He had suggested that the house be occupied 
only by a doctor in order to assure that the town would not be without lodgings for future physicians. 
Upon "Doc's" first visit to Sperry, he found the community to be both aesthetically pleasing and 
professionally opportune. These aspects, in addition to its close proximity to the Kirksville First 
District State Normal School which would provide higher education for his children in the future, 
persuaded him to accept the hospitality of the people of Sperry. Thus, in October, 1916, he, his wife, 
Martha Kerr Kennedy, and his two children, Mildred and Kermit, moved into the house that would serve 
as his home for life and is occupied to this day by his oldest child, Mrs. Mildred Ambrosia.

"Doc" Kennedy was known as a dedicated professional who always made time for his work and seldom had 
time to spare for himself, although he was considered a model family man. The service he provided 
for his patients was foremost in his life, and it was convenient that his wife was a registered 
mid-wife. While no records were kept of the actual number of deliveries they performed, many of 
the current residents of the Sperry area are living testaments to their skill. Tragically, his 
wife's life prematurely ended in 1934 when she died of cancer at age 44. He continued on without 
her until 1945, when his health failed.

His style of medicine, by today's standards, was archaic, inefficient, and rather unscientific, 
but there were aspects that epitomized the country doctor, and those that, ironically, made him 
superior. His warm, compassionate style, which included such forgotten concepts as house calls and 
"bedside manner," was a far cry from today's high-speed medicine. In fact, he was so devoted, not 
only to his practice in general but to his patients as human beings, that often he would spend all 
night with a sick neighbor. This sort of care was not due to any requirement of professional ethics, 
but because of a genuine, personal concern for the well-being of his patients. While he was often 
limited by primitive technology, his dedication to the people he served puts many of our modern 
medical institutions to shame.

Generally, "Doc" would ask $2.50 per visit, but naturally, he understood the financial problems of 
his patients and was not strict about payment. This fee barely covered expenses and,

[photo caption] Marion Francis Kennedy, M.D. graduated in 1907 from the St. Louis School of Medicine.

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according to his daughter, "He didn't make anything." Often, if a patient had many debts owed to the 
doctor, he would pay with a pig, chicken, or even a cow.

From time to time, "Doc" was asked to help patients by looking after not the person, but their 
livestock. Due to the convenience of his location, Dr. Kennedy's neighbors would occasionally come 
to him with various problems generally reserved for veterinarians, but "Doc" would apply what he 
had of this field to care for the animals. If his knowledge proved insufficient he would refer them 
to a veterinarian. He did this sort of work only because he realized how important these animals 
were to the rural farmers he served. While many doctors might see this work as a condescension, 
"Doc" Kennedy was a man willing to do anything and everything in his power to help a friend in need.

He had a certain empathy with his patients that at times would instinctively help him understand 
what they required. A prime example of this ability was shown one night when a neighbor's child 
had pneumonia. Often it was a custom for neighbors to come to a sick friend's house and perform a 
vigil, sitting and watching the suffering person. This very ritual was being enacted when "Doc" 
arrived, and he realized that this poor child, who was having such a hard time breathing, was being 
suffocated by his well-meaning watchers. He promptly asked everyone, save the mother and the boy, 
to please leave, which it turned out, saved the boy's life.

Consistent with the stereotypical image of the "country-doctor," Dr. Kennedy's main mode of 
transportation was not a car, but a horse, despite the fact that he would often go to the edge of 
Schuyler or Scotland County. When conditions would allow he would use a buggy, but otherwise he and 
his faithful steed would travel without such hinderance. Until 1921, when he obtained his first 
Model-T, his horse would often be called upon in the middle of the night to carry him miles away to 
a sick patient, often through blizzards or floods. If not even the horse could make it, "Doc" would 
go on foot, no matter how far he would be asked to go.

"Doc" Kennedy was known as a patient and easygoing man, who was more humanistic than materialistic, 
and more giving than wanting. He was the model country doctor, in the truest and best sense. But 
like all good things, the era of the old-fashioned physician has been replaced by technology, 
never to be seen again. The traditions of yesterday have been filed away in the back of some medical 
school library, but the legacy of "Doc" Kennedy stands as a standard of warmth and caring, against 
which modem science is compared, and found lacking.

[photo caption] With doctor's bag in hand, "Doc" Kennedy answers to the call of duty on a winter's 
day.

By David May

Photos courtesy of Mildred Ambrosia.

[photo caption] "Doc's" faithful horse, attached to the family buggy was always ready to serve, and 
was often called upon until the purchase of an automobile in 1921.

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WILLIAM UNGER - A Man Who Taught People How To See

Once in a great while, a man comes along who possesses the sensitivity and awareness necessary to 
make a great artist and teacher. He is adept at observing; beyond just acknowledging existences, 
this man has an acute awareness of emotion and life, as well as material, in all that he sees. In 
addition, he is able to convert his understanding of what he sees onto the canvas for others to 
see. William Unger was such a man. According to Dr. William Murray, long-time friend and colleague 
of Mr. Unger, "He was a fine artist. . . . but, unlike some fine artists, he was equally a teacher 
. . . it was difficult to be around him and not be a student."

William Unger was born on July 30, 1914, in Graz, Austria, into a world of art. Mr. Unger's father 
was an architectural engineer who spent much of his time designing bridges in Austria, but the young 
Unger's grandfather proved to be his greatest influence. His grandfather, also named William Unger, 
served as the president of the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna for 40 years and also invented color 
etching.

At the age of 18, Mr. Unger entered the Academy and studied for eight years earning the title 
"Akademischer Maler," equivalent to a Master of Fine Arts in the United States. While attending the 
Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna, William Unger won the Prix-de-Rome, a prestigious prize awarded by 
the French government to students studying fine arts. He then attended the Ecole des Beaux Arts in 
Paris, France, for one year and later returned to Austria where he received the equivalent of a 
Doctor of Art Education from Vienna University in 1937.

In 1946, William Unger studied at Salzburg Castle in Austria under Oskar Kokoschka, a world-renowned 
expressionist painter. From Kokoschka he learned not to concentrate on teaching techniques, but on 
defining the motivations of the students. He learned to teach the mind as well as the hand. This 
European idea greatly differed from the American form of teaching which, at that time, was more 
concerned with mastering a defined skill than paying attention to motivations and the individual 
work. This attention to the mental and visual education of students explains why Kokoschka named 
his school "The School on Learning How to See."

Not long after attending Kokoschka's school, William Unger relied on his portrait painting as a 
major means of income.

[illustration caption] William Unger painted this self-portrait in 1936, when he was 22 years old. 
(Photo courtesy of Mrs. Hedwig Unger)

[photo caption] William Unger near the time of his death in 1980. (Photo courtesy of Mrs. Hedwig 
Unger)

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His early portraits include Winston Churchill, which now is displayed in the British Embassy; the 
daughter of the King of Afghanistan; and the Merck family, owners of the Bayer Aspirin Company.

Mr. Unger was drafted by the German Army in 1939 when the Germans annexed Austria, and he fought on 
the Russian border for three years before he was injured in the Battle of Stalingrad and sent home. He 
then joined the resistance against Adolph Hitler, which made remaining anywhere in Austria or Europe 
dangerous for him. The war had economically crushed Austria and Mr. Unger, like many Austrian 
citizens, could not find any kind of employment. Mr. Unger married in 1947, and in 1948 he and his 
wife Hedwig decided to come to the United States because of the great turmoil in Austria at the 
time; after being claimed by the Nazis, Austria was then controlled by the Russians. The combination 
of the continuing tension and the economic depression in Austria contributed to the Ungers' 
decision to move.

At the time of the Ungers' move, the United States government required each immigrant to state the 
name of a United States citizen who would take responsibility for him until he was able to become a 
citizen himself. Many prospective immigrants found this requirement impossible to fulfil because 
they knew no one in the United States. The Ungers also had difficulty locating a sponsor, but after 
six years, they found old acquaintances living in Wisconsin and were able to acquire the necessary 
visas to immigrate to the United States in 1954.

Following their arrival in the United States, the Ungers lived in Madison, Wisconsin, for six years. 
Dr. James Paulding, a close friend and colleague, expressed William Unger's feelings about the 
United States as "[He] always had great respect for the European tradition, and yet he admired 
Americans; he

[photo caption] William Unger supplemented his teaching income by painting portraits of famous 
people and local residents. His portraits of Cynthia Nichols, dated 1977, and David Cody, dated 
1971, are two examples of portraits of local children. (Left photo courtesy of Dr. and Mrs. David 
Nichols and right photo courtesy of Dr. and Mrs. Roger Cody)

admired our freedom; he admired our democracy; he admired our optimism."

While Mr. Unger taught at the University of Wisconsin, he painted portraits of such American giants 
as General Billy Mitchell; the Parker Pen family; and Warren Spahn, a famous Milwaukee Braves 
pitcher. Although his success in painting

[photo caption] The portrait of Her Royal Highness, Princess Belkis, daughter of the King of 
Afghanistan, was painted in 19.51 by William Unger while he lived in Vienna. (Photo courtesy of 
Mrs. Hedwig Unger)

[photo caption] This painting of skaters on one of the 5,000 recorded lakes in Wisconsin, was done 
by William Unger during the time when the Ungers lived in Madison, Wisconsin. (Photo courtesy of 
Mrs. Hedwig Unger)

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portraits was obvious, according to his wife, this was not his favorite area of art In painting a 
portrait which had been commissioned by the subject, he found that he had to create a painting 
which captured the essence of but was not offensive to the subject. Dr. Murray explains that 
"artists throughout history have responded to their commissions, and so when you look at a style, 
you have to always understand what the commission was."

Then, in 1960, William Unger applied for a summer teaching job at Northeast Missouri State Teachers 
College. The job went well and at the end of the summer session, the students submitted a petition 
to the administration asking that he be kept as a permanent member of the faculty. The 
administration did offer Mr. Unger a job in response to the petition, but he declined the offer. 
He did agree to return the following summer, and once again, at the end of summer session of 1961, 
the students petitioned for Mr. Unger as a permanent teacher at the college. This time he agreed 
to teach for six months at the college and then make a decision. After the six-month trial, in 
1962, William Unger and his wife decided to remain in Kirksville, Missouri. William Unger entered 
an extremely small art department when he came to Northeast Missouri State Teachers College. He 
and only two other teachers carried the full teaching load. Dr. Dale Jorgenson, head of the Fine 
Arts Department at that time, remembers the strain which this lack of faculty put on the three men. 
He recalls Mr. Unger's concern that he was overloaded by the graphics, drawing, painting, and 
commercial arts classes he was teaching. When Dr. Jorgenson would press Mr. Unger to tell him which 
class he wanted to drop, he would say that all the classes were too important to stop teaching - 
so he would continue with the same load.

The fact that William Unger taught so many classes was nothing but an asset to the college. His 
European style of teaching, with its concentration on the thinking process of painting, proved to 
be a great inspiration to the students. When asked to describe his philosophy of teaching, 
Mr. Unger would always reply that he emphasized the individual. His students felt his personal 
concern in their development as artists to be very reassuring, yet he never attempted to be 
overbearing in his criticism or suggestions. He was frank and open, and, according to his wife, 
had a knack for spotting potential even in the most dismal student creations. The optimistic 
insight which this man possessed was a refreshing experience for Midwestern art students at the 
Northeast Missouri State Teachers College. Dr. Murray remarked, "As a teacher and as a friend, he 
was always there - he was never anywhere else, and I don't understand how he did it."

Mrs. Unger recalls an incident occurring while her husband was teaching in Wisconsin which 
convinced her of his special ability as an art teacher. There was an older farmer in one of his 
classes whose work she saw in an art show. She remarked to her husband that the painting of the 
bright red barn and bright green grass was terrible and asked him if he were going to keep this 
man in his class. Mr. Unger told his wife

[photo caption] "Impression of Mexico" was painted in 1968 by William Unger during one of his 
frequent trips to Mexico with his wife. (Photo courtesy of Mrs. Hedwig Unger)

[photo caption] Dr. William Murray explains that Mr. Unger completed this non-representational 
painting, meaning that it is not based on a recognizable object, with the understanding that, "if 
you want to see something badly enough, you will." (Photo courtesy of Dr. and Mrs. William Murray)

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that the man's work showed real potential and that, of course, the man would remain in his class. 
A year later, in another art show, a few charming, airy landscapes caught Mrs. Unger's eye and when 
she asked her husband who the artist was, he told her that the farmer had painted them. In her 
words, William Unger had "seen that this man could paint and had the talent  -  which nobody else 
probably would have."

In 1978, William Unger was honored by the government of Austria with the Cross of Honor for Science 
and Art, first class. At a banquet held in Kirksville in honor of Mr. Unger's retirement, 
Dr. Erich Kristen, consul general of the Austrian consulate in Chicago, presented Mr. Unger with 
the prestigious honor. This single honor was a high point in Mr. Unger's life, according to his 
wife.

William Unger, despite his prolific painting career, was never able to realize his dream of pursuing 
his own artwork free from the influences of commissions. For years he had painted according to 
commissions - limited by the desire of his employer. Then, after 20 years of teaching in the Fine 
Arts Department of Northeast Missouri State Teachers College, renamed Northeast Missouri State 
University in 1972, Mr. Unger decided to retire in order to pursue his own artwork. Shortly after 
his retirement, Professor Emeritus William Unger developed melanoma, a potentially fatal form of 
skin cancer, and died in 1980, ten days after his 66th birthday. His early death was completely 
unexpected (his grandfather died at the age of 95, so Mr. Unger had believed that he had many 
more years to live).

The loss created by William Unger's death was more than the loss of an artist or the loss of a 
teacher. It was the loss of a warm, generous man with much to offer the world. William Unger had 
dedicated himself to the beauty of life, in his teaching and his artwork. His careful attention 
to detail exemplified his belief of the importance of sensitivity and awareness not only in working 
but in living. Much like his former teacher Kokoschka, William Unger questioned the underlying 
motivation of all that he saw, instead of merely accepting and reproducing figures. As Dr. Murray 
simply stated, "He taught people how to see."

These pictures are sections of the mural commissioned by the Northeast Missouri State Teachers 
College to be painted in the Student Union Building by William Unger in the style of Thomas Hart 
Benton. (Photos courtesy of NMSU Pickier Memorial Library)

By Brian Riley and Cathy Mitchell

Pen and ink drawings of the Dockery Hotel in Kirksville, left, and Baldwin Hall on the campus of 
Kirksville State Teachers College, right, were completed in 1979 by William Unger as part of a 
series of drawings of buildings in the Kirksville area. (Photo courtesy of Dr. and Mrs. Jack 
Mitchell)

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Scenes from the Past

People who were in junior and senior high school in the late 1800s and through the middle of the 
1900s may find among their souvenirs or mementos their old autograph books. These books are an 
instant remembrance of classmates, friends, and teachers. Years roll back, memories flood one's 
mind, and for a short moment the reader is back in school again. While reading it one might admire 
some of the verses, notice the elaborate and neat penmanship, and try to remember the author's face.

Some very elaborate autograph books have been found in Northeast Missouri. One book dated 1879, 
pictured at the top left, has a photograph on one side of the page and on the other a place for a 
favorite verse, "May the man you choose in life, Be as good natured as his wife, Your Friend, Bell, 
November 1, 1879." This book was purchased by Dell Buck at a country general store and cost 10 
cents in the 1870s. The middle left picture shows the hand and rose with the verse, "To Rosa, True 
Friends are like diamonds, Precious but rare, False ones are like autumn leaves, Found everywhere, 
Your Friend Frances Bamber, December 12, 1887." The bottom photo to the left is three books dated 
from 1880 through the early 1900s which cost between 20 and 55 cents. The autograph pages have 
bright stickers and paintings of cupids, roses, doves, or little boys and girls.

In the 1930s through 1960s the most common were the dime store autograph books which cost between 
a dollar and $1.50. The leather covers were of different colors and bound with ribbon or colored 
cord, examples are shown in the second column.

One of the most common characteristics about most of the autograph books, besides verses, is that 
the books were received at the same time of the year. Parents would give these books to their 
children as Christmas presents. The children would then take their books to school for the rest of 
the year and get an autograph from everyone they knew. The most popular day for autograph signing 
was the last day of school because many times classmates would not meet again.

In the 1950s autograph books were slowly replaced by the high school yearbook, which had the 
advantage of having a picture of each classmate and teacher which the autograph book did not have. 
Whether one had a autograph book or yearbook, one's school day memories will be with one forever 
in writing.

Special thanks to: Lucille Dabney, Beverly Findling, Betty James, Cora Lawson, Nancy Platz, Leta 
Rose, and Shirley Walker.

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Friends and family often knew and shared many verses:
Remember well and bear in mind
a real true friend is hard to find,
But when you find me good and true
change not the old for the new.

Down by the seashore carved on a rock,
Three little words,
-Forget-Me-Not-

It tickles me it makes me laugh 
To think you would want my autograph.

By hook,
By crook,
I'll be the last one
To sign your autograph book.

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Kirksville Through the Eyes of a Native

A great loss occurs to mankind when history is not passed to the next generation. Jane Denslow is 
an endless source of information on the history of Kirksville and Dr. Andrew Taylor Still. This 
conversation is Mrs. Denslow's reminiscences of Kirksville and A.T. Still. Mary Jane Laughlin was 
born on January 17, 1914, to George M. and Blanche Still Laughlin. Andrew Taylor Still, the founder 
of osteopathy, was Jane's grandfather, and Dr. George M. Laughlin is credited with preserving the 
first school of osteopathy. Jane Laughlin attended several colleges, but received her Bachelor of 
Arts degree in science at Lindenwood College in St. Charles, Missouri. She has taught first quarter 
principles of osteopathy at the Chicago College of Osteopathy. Miss Laughlin married Dr. John 
Stedman Denslow on August 22, 1934, and they have three children, Martha, Mike, and Peter. 
Mrs. Denslow is now helping at the A.T. Still Historical Museum in the mornings. She and her 
family have been greatly involved in osteopathic science.

Q: How	did your parents celebrate your birth?
A: The students of the osteopathic school (ASO) broke school and obtained a wagon with a couple of 
horses, and they took my dad for a ride up town and around the square. The students did it for fun.

Q: Were you an only child?
A: At that time, I was. I had a brother later on. He was four years younger than I. His name was 
George Andrew, and he was a part of the staff at Laughlin Hospital.

Q: Were there many medical practitioners when your grandfather was practicing osteopathy?
A: I wouldn't want to say for sure, but the town was very, very small at that time. I'm sure from 
some of the old historical things it could be determined, but I would feel there were no more than 
one or two because the population wouldn't have supported more.

Q: Did the number increase by the time your father was practicing medicine?
A: Oh, yes! You see there was a big time gap. We're jumping a little over 25 years. The town had 
grown, and my father graduated in 1900, and each year a few more settled here.

Q: How have medical practices changed?
A: Perhaps we're thinking about this in two different ways. My grandfather started out as a medical 
doctor, but they had a number of people in Macon County (that's where he was practicing) who 
developed spinal meningitis, and he lost his wife and three children and an adopted child because 
neither he nor his medical friends could do
anything about it. So he felt very strongly there must be another way to cure people, and so that 
set him to thinking. As a result, he developed the theory of osteopathy. Now when you're talking 
about medical practitioners here in town, they were very sharply divided, particularly in the 1900s 
as to medical physicians and osteopathic physicians.

Q: Was your grandfather well-liked?
A: Well, if they didn't, they didn't come to him. Dr. Still had people come to him from all over 
the world. In the early '90s [he] had so many patients from Redwing, Minnesota, that Dr. Still sent 
his oldest son up there to practice, so that travel wouldn't be necessary for them. After my father 
became an orthopedic surgeon, families brought their children here that were deformed with either 
hunchbacks

[photo caption] Dr. George M. Laughlin and Blanche Still were parents of Mary Jane Laughlin. 
Dr. Laughlin built the Laughlin Hospital and Blanche Still was the daughter of A. T. Still.

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or club feet, whatever it happened to be. You see, by the time he graduated most of the anti-element 
had quieted down. He had no problem with the medical people here. They were friends of his.

Q: Why did A.T. Still move from Jonesville, Virginia, to Kansas?
A: His father was sent as a medical missionary for the Methodist Church. He was sent to Macon 
County, and he was an abolitionist. This was before the Civil War, and Macon County was no place for 
an abolitionist so the church moved him up to Schuyler County, north of the Mason-Dixon line, which 
went approximately through the Millard area. The church sent him on out to Wakarusa Mission in 
Kansas with the Shawnee Indians. It was from there then that Dr. Still went to medical school for a 
year in Kansas City and was very unhappy with the quality of the teaching so he went back, as many 
people do or did in those days, and read with his father until he could pass the state exam.

Q: Why did your grandfather move to Kirksville?
A: He had tried several places with his new theory, and in some places he was accepted, and in some 
places he was considered a plain quack. He traveled this part of the country; he would be in Clinton 
for a day or two, and then maybe Hannibal for a day or two, and Kirksville welcomed him, and he 
had friends here.

Q: Did it take a while for the people of Kirksville to accept Dr. Still's theory?
A: Not really, because, unfortunately at that period of time, the quality of medical care was very 
poor. As a result, some of his cures were spectacular. There would be literally hundreds of 
patients come here, and boarding houses sprung up all over. I would say he was accepted very well.

Q: Has Kirksville changed a lot?
A: Oh, yes! One thing that would probably be most noticeable to people your age [teenagers] would 
be our streets are paved. In the fall of 1917, they paved Jefferson Street, and in those days when 
you paved a street, you didn't drive on it. You covered it with what they called salt hay until it 
cured. If this paving occurred in the fall, you left it covered all winter long before you used it. 
The weather was very bad, and the streets were very bad when my grandfather died. They allowed his 
hearse to go down Jefferson Street on top of the salt hay to get to the cemetery. Of course, 
Osteopathy didn't go north beyond Jefferson Street then. It was a little cinder path, but they 
allowed the hearse to come and go east and west on Jefferson Street.

Q: Has the style of homes changed?
A: Yes, the style has changed somewhat. Most of the really beautiful homes of the early 1900s have 
been tom down. There is only one that, just off the top of my head, I think is still standing, and 
that is the, what we refer to as, the Dr. Parrish house on North Franklin on the east side of the 
street there. It has a mansard roof and a widow's walk at the top. William Baird's house was tom 
down. It was a great stone house, and Dr. Still's home was torn down. The Link home is gone, and 
there were no split-level houses in those days.

Q: How has education changed?
A: Start out with the curriculum. All schools that teach medical care of any kind have changed 
their curriculum along as new things have come into the medical world,

[photo caption] January 17, 1914, was "Treat Day." Dr. George Laughlin was pulled around the 
square by his medical students to celebrate the birth of his daughter, Mary Jane.

[photo caption] Dr. Andrew Taylor Still, Jane Denslow's grandfather, lived at this house, once 
located at 314 South Osteopathy Street.

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but basically it's the same; all the scientific courses plus anatomy. The thing here that is 
different from the hours taken in medical school are the hours they spend teaching osteopathic 
theory and methods, and we do study material [medical] just like any other physician, but they 
are taught how to use hands in correcting the bony framework of the body.

Q: What was the transportation like?
A: If you were very fortunate, you might have a nice team and carriage. There was one Ford in 
town when I was little bitty, and then the first car my parents bought was a Chalmers, made by the 
Allis-Chalmers Company, and it was an open touring car. All the rest of us through high school and 
college walked. We got quite a bit of exercise. The high school, for instance, was where the Board 
of Education Building is now, and nobody had ever heard of a lunch program or a school bus. We 
walked to school, and we had an hour from 12 to 1 to walk home, have lunch and go back, and I lived 
here at the time [314 S. Osteopathy] so we're talking 10, 12, 14 blocks, but it was no problem.

Q: What do you remember about the railroads?
A: We had two very active railroads. The Quincy, Omaha & Kansas City (the O.K.) went from Kansas 
City to Quincy and they tore up the track, I believe, two years ago. We've always had the Wabash. 
We had eight trains a day on the Wabash. It ran all the way to Minneapolis. You could change at 
Albia and go to other places. The railroad came in the Civil War era.

Q: What was entertainment like?
A: Well, I must have been about 10 when we got our first radio, and it was poor. It was 90 percent 
static, and it operated from an automobile battery. It wasn't much fun, and nobody spent much time 
with it. My father had a patient, a young man in his teens, who had been a hunchback, and he was 
here for treatment, and he was the only one that I remember fooling with it. It was something for 
him to do, and he knew something about it, and he used to come and play with it all the time, but 
no T.V. Thank heavens!

Q: Did many people have radios?
A: Oh, no! Very, very few people, and I don't blame them.

Q: What did you do on weekends?
A: Saturday nights were big nights. We'd go up on the square and do nothing except walk around and 
visit people. If we were pretty well-heeled at the moment, we might have ice cream. There were 
movies, the Princess Theater, and the Gem, that was on North Elson Street. The First National Bank 
building has expanded and it has taken over the space where the Gem, Mr. Micheal's Movie stood. We 
might go to a movie Friday night or Saturday night. We didn't have Sunday night movies because that 
was church night.

Q: Did you go up to the square in the winter?
A: Oh, yes. You went inside somewhere. There were a number of places: ice cream parlors and open 
stores. We went with our friends, and primarily they were the children your age who lived closest 
to you. We went up after sup-
per, usually around 7-7:30. No one stayed there after 9 o'clock. Things closed up, and you went home.

Q: What movies did you enjoy?
A: Probably the same ones that are running most of the time now. I don't think of any particular 
ones that we had. Of course, some that we especially enjoyed were ones that Robert Taylor starred 
in, and he was the Rudolph Valentino of my teenage years. As a matter of fact, he wasn't but a year 
or two older than I was when he went into the movies. He was born over here on West Pierce Street 
when his father was in school here. He went to Hollywood and became very well-known. I wasn't too 
keen on movies, and, frankly, I don't remember very many of them. They didn't impress me.

Q: What was Kirksville's industry like?
A: Our major industry was the shoe factory, and the town lived by the factory whistle. It blew in 
the morning, and you set your clocks by it. It blew at noon to dismiss them, at 1 to put them back 
to work, and, I believe, it was 4, to let them out. I'm not sure whether it was 3 or 4, but there 
were no other major industries except education. Of course, then the Teachers College, as it was 
called, was very well-recognized and drew a lot of students. Of course, ASO or KCOM, whichever, 
KCOS, KCO, it's had several names. The students there, the money they spent here in town, and the 
fraternity parties they had were all a part of the whole thing, and, of course, the money they 
spent while they lived here added to the community.

Q: What do you remember about your grandfather?
A: Well, that's a difficult question. At the time I came along and was old enough to be aware of 
my surroundings, he was too old to continue going to work every day. He was at home and received 
callers there, and I was too young to go anywhere so pretty much we were together all day long. 
He was a delightful person to be around and had a tremendous sense of humor. Of course, it was 
during World War I and he was very vitally interested in news. Obviously I could not read at that 
age, but I would listen for the newspaper, the St. Louis paper, to be delivered in the morning, to 
hit the front porch, and I would run to get it. I had listened to enough of the conversation that I 
could pretend to read it to him. He had some very interesting visitors. One that I always was very 
sorry to have missed was Buffalo Bill. His visit was in 1912. They had been scouts at the same time 
out in Kansas and Nebraska, and he had brought his 101 (Hundred and One) Show here. He came to the 
house, and they had a good visit.

Q: What was your childhood like?
A: Everything was very normal. I was just like any other child Birthdays, school, going to the 
movies, and that was quite a treat. You didn't just go everytime the movie changed. There's nothing 
I would consider outstanding. We had lots of fun. We had some wonderful teachers in high school. 
It was a very pleasant experience.

Q: What do you remember about the teachers?
A: Well, many of the teachers, very fortunately, that had been my teachers also taught my children. 
It was a wonderful

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experience for both of us. We didn't have a large variety of teachers, and those we had were 
extremely dedicated. Many of them spent their entire lives teaching certain subjects in a certain 
school. In grade school, one of the things we always got a kick out of was the school board system 
(I suppose you call it) of checking up on the teachers. They would arrive unannounced and sit in 
the back of the room, one member at a time at different schools at a different time. There was no 
set pattern for it, and obviously they must have been very pleased with what they found.

Q: Did you belong to many organizations?
A: Not really. There were very few, shall we say, things open to the public except movies. There 
were clubs, like the Elks Club that had dances. Both colleges would have dances. No, it wasn't a 
real social town at all. The women, some of them, had bridge clubs or whist clubs. There were the 
standard DAR, PEO type clubs.

Q: What did you do for fun as a child?
A: I had a jumping rope. I don't remember being too interested in it. I was very, very pleased at 
Christmas one year to get a pair of roller skates, but my pleasure in that diminished very quickly 
because it hadn't occurred to me that our front sidewalk and the sidewalk in front by the street 
were all brick. Skates and brick sidewalks do not go well together. Finally, a family about 3 or 4 
blocks south of our house put in a paved sidewalk, and we'd carry our skates down there and skate on 
that. They were very nice things to have, but useless.

Q: Did you have a car?
A: Yes, about 30 years ago I finally had my own car. People didn't have cars. A two-car family was 
almost unheard of having a car before you got out of college. The boys might when they graduated and 
got a job, but we walked everywhere when we were in college.

Q: How old were you when you got your car?
A: About 55. Well, after I was married, our family car was a doctor's car. We would use it to take 
the family wherever we happened to be going, but when he needed it, it was his. You didn't just 
jump in the car and go somewhere.

Q: How has style of clothes changed?
A: Ladies dresses were probably 12-14 inches from the floor in length, up to the period of World 
War I. Then they began to get a little shorter until finally, by the '30s, they were knee length, 
and as you very well know, then we went up into that mini-skirt, but that was when we were adult 
enough not to do that. I think most people, as they were growing up, wear what the people in their 
crowd wear. Of course, we had no such things as wash-and-wear. You selected your clothing with the 
thought of how difficult it would be to take care of. I've never really cared particularly for 
heavy clothing, and by and large, our weather here doesn't really require it. Pants were something 
you only wore to protect yourself as you did farm chores. If I put on a pair of jeans, it was 
because I was going to the barn. When I returned to the house, I took them off and put on a dress.

Q: Do you remember any trends of clothing?
A: As a matter of fact, when I was a teenager we never thought of going to town in the summertime 
without white gloves. You weren't dressed. Oh, if you were dressed up, you were going to church, or 
going to town shopping you wore gloves. I saw one of our graduates, of a number of years ago, who 
was back visiting the other day. One of the things I remember about him was that he was a proper 
young man because when he came to take you to a formal dance and was attired in formal dress, he 
always wore white gloves. He would not have thought of coming without his white gloves. It's a 
little different now. It sort of makes me think of one time in the 1920s. I had always had a 
curfew. I just didn't go out on a date and come home when I got ready. I had a certain hour to 
be there, and I was there. I went to a dance with a young student we had, who was here from 
Scotland, and I began to think it was beginning to get towards that hour. I said, "Scotty, what 
time is it?" He looked at me with a rather startled look, and he said, "Gentlemen do not carry 
watches when they take a young lady out." Time was something you didn't consider when you took 
a young lady out. It was an insult. So I had to ask somebody else what time it was so I got 
there on time.

Q: Did you date a lot?
A: Not really. There were some nice boys in grade school with me and in high school. I didn't date 
too much. This may sound very strange, but I fell in love when I was 11 years old with a young man 
who had come here to study osteopathy. Back then there were no college requirements for 
matriculation here so he had come directly out of high school. Depression came along. I finished 
high school and went to college. He finished school and started to practice. Finally, when I was 
20 years old, we were married.

Q: How did you meet your husband?
A: Well, actually I met him at a fraternity house. Each month one of the fraternities would 
invite the president and his family for Sunday dinner, and that's how I happened to meet him when 
he came as a freshman.

Q: Did you have a large wedding?
A: I suppose you could say so. It was sort of an open type thing, and I had the traditional white 
satin gown and train. It was held at home.

Q: Would you describe your wedding?
A: It was at home. My piano teacher and a violinist from the university played the music. I came 
down the open stairwell in our house. At the bottom I was met by my groom. I had two bridesmaids, 
and, of course, he had a best man. We had four ushers.

Q: What are the most noticeable changes in Kirksville?
A: I think basically that the streets have changed, not as to location, but due to the fact that 
they are not mud anymore. The town has probably tripled in size. The square was always very 
active, and now the people have deserted it to go out to the Baltimore Strip. It's fine for them, 
but it's very inconvenient for those of us who don't have

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automobiles. The colleges and factories are the main factors for the growth of Kirksville.

Photos courtesy of the Still National Osteopathic Museum.

By Shelly Hoffman

[illustration caption] Mrs. Denslow said this map, from Wallin's Kirksville City Directory for 
1899-1900, shows Kirksville the way it was envisioned. Today Brown Avenue is Osteopathy Street.

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A Still and Lasting Foundation

The grand three-story, 24-room, brick home with a large porch and Tuscan columns sat on a flowering 
vine-covered hill where tall spruces stood like guardians. This house, altered slightly, still 
stands today at the corner of Jefferson and Osteopathy. It is the Atlas House, formerly the 
Charles Still Home.

The son of Andrew Taylor Still, Charles, and his wife Anna with their three children, Gladys, 
Elizabeth, and Charles Jr., made their home at 218 South Osteopathy in 1912, while Charles was 
still president of the American School of Osteopathy that he had helped his father build. Charles 
and wife bought the Brewington home, the former home on that location, along with approximately 
160 surrounding acres. In its place they built the present home for over $50,000. All the modern 
conveniences and luxuries of the day were included in the home, making it very impressive.

Charles Still and his wife built a gorgeous home, ideal for entertaining. When a visitor entered 
the home, his focus was drawn to the right to the grand, golden oak staircase. If he came at the 
right time of the day, the effect of the light streaming in the beautiful leaded glass window on 
the wall next to the staircase would not go unnoticed. The distinctive leaded glass windows were 
throughout the house. Rich oriental rugs complemented the refined hardwood floors, and gracefully 
carved moldings along the ceilings gave the house a breath-taking elegance.

To the left of the entryway was the formal parlor, living room, and solarium. In the parlor the 
love seats and fireplace gave a warm atmosphere to the room, which was always prepared for guests, 
not for everyday use. It was here the family entertained and Charles Still's daughters received 
suitors. A velvet curtain separated the parlor from the living room. An impressive 15 foot wide 
bay window with curved seats accented the south wall, and Charles Jr.'s personal library of roughly 
200 books was next to the window. Charles Jr., as a child, remembers looking out of those windows 
to see his grandfather

[photo caption] In 1912, Charles and Anna Still built an elegant 24-room home at 218 S. Osteopathy. 
In later years the home was called the Charles Still Mansion because of its tremendous size. 
(Photo courtesy of the KCOM Andrew Taylor Still Memorial Library)

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[photo caption] Charles and Anna Still. (Photo courtesy of the Still National Osteopathic Museum)

Andrew Taylor Still sitting on the front porch on his house next door. A door next to the striking 
marble fireplace led to the solarium that housed Mrs. Still's plants and ferns. Directly across 
from the living room was the large formal dining room. The heavy curtain separating the two rooms 
could be opened, making the two rooms one large room. Because of Mr. Still's political activities, 
including serving as the mayor of Kirksville and as representative to the Missouri General 
Assembly, the dining room was used for formal entertaining with seating capacity of 24 guests. 
Missouri Governors Henry Caulfield and Lloyd Stark and famous people like Buffalo Bill were 
served at the elegant glass top dining room table.

Though today the home is called a mansion, the Still family would have never referred to it as 
that. Even in its elegance, to them it was just home. In fact, Charles Jr.'s favorite part of the 
home was the west end containing the library and breakfast room, where the family spent most of 
their time. Because the dining room was only for formal entertaining, the family ate most of their 
meals in the breakfast room. Mealtime was one of the few opportunities the family members had to 
bring each other up-to-date on their activities. The kitchen was north of the breakfast room. A 
stairway led from the kitchen to the second floor hallway.

On the second floor was the master bedroom and bath, the children's bedrooms, guest bedroom, 
bathrooms, and a solarium. In the very front of the house was the spacious master bedroom, a 
combination bedroom and sitting room with a sizeable front porch. Because its fireplace created 
such a comfortable atmosphere, the sitting room was often the site of family discussions and 
conferences. Next to these rooms was a bathroom connecting the master bedroom and a second guest 
bedroom. Often during the summer months the children slept in the solarium, referred to as the 
sleeping porch, in the southwest comer of the house. On the west side were Gladys' and Elizabeth's 
bedrooms and a large bathroom. When Grandma Rider, Anna's mother, lived with the family, she 
stayed in the north bedroom. After she died the room was often rented to students. Across from 
her room was yet another bedroom, Charles Jr.'s room.

Stairs on the north side, separate from those leading to the second floor, ascended to the third 
floor, often the site of activity. With the exception of a sewing room, solarium, and bedroom, 
the third floor was a grand ballroom. The door leading to the ballroom on the north side could be 
locked, which had its disadvantages. Angry at his sister Gladys, Charles Jr. once locked the door 
imprisoning her and 50 of her friends in the ballroom until someone could come to their rescue. 
That was not the only kind of activity the ballroom saw. Organizations often held dances there. 
Gladys, the older daughter, brought her sorority, Sigma Sigma Sigma, into the house for dances. 
Charles Jr. said, "Often my friends and I would just have a group of peers over on the spur of the 
moment for a dance." Mrs. Still's sewing room was on the south side next to the solarium. The punch 
bowl and chairs were kept in the solarium. The children's Uncle Herman Still stayed in the third 
floor bedroom while he lived with the family. After his death, his room was also rented to students.

There was yet another floor of the home, the basement. The house had a hot water heating system with 
radiators that circulated the hot water. Originally the coal furnace in the basement was used to 
heat the water. Students staying in the basement bedroom, in the northwest corner with an adjoining 
bath, would have the job of tending the coal furnace. After the coal furnace became an 
inconvenience, the heating system was switched to oil.

The property of the Stills originally extended to the Oil Star Mine. The family raised a number of 
animals on this land, approximately 200 Duroc hogs, 75 to 100 chickens, and a few ducks, guineas, 
and other animals. There were also five or six Jersey cattle. In the basement was a room where a 
cream separator and milk cans were kept. The family sold the cows when Charles Jr. was about 7 
years old.

The basement also had a laundry room and drying room for hanging the clothes when the weather was 
bad. In one corner was a room for canned goods and vegetables. On the south was storage area for 
furniture. Next to the storage area was a large playroom containing the electric train. The children 
used to toss rubber horse shoes. Charles Jr. and his friends boxed in there.

Imagine a home built in the early 1900s having a central vacuum system when many homes today do not 
even have one. The Still Home was the first home in Kirksville to have such an item. The motor for 
the central vacuum was in the basement. Throughout the house were round vents in the baseboards 
into which the vacuum hose was plugged. It operated well for a number of years until problems arose 
with obstructions in the ducts, and the system was removed. Charles Jr. said, "It was a nice idea, 
but probably impractical for the size of the home." The Still Home also had an intercom/telephone 
system connecting the floors and a dumbwaiter. The phones for the floors were located in the 
hallways. The dumbwaiter, a cupboard-size, mechanical elevator used primarily for transporting 
food from one floor to another, connected the first, second, and third floors.

There were a few years in which the house was closed. In 1918 when Gladys was sick with tuberculosis 
the family went to New Mexico, where they remained until she died. The house was closed for that 
entire year. Then in the early 1920s the family made an extended trip to California, and the house was

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again closed. Throughout the early 1920s the family was gone as much as they were home.

On a windy Tuesday in March, 1930, sparks carried by the wind started a fire in the attic. That day 
there were actually two fires in the home as a result of the prevailing winds. The first fire on 
the upper porch resulted in the discovery of the second. Mrs. Blanche Laughlin, the next door 
neighbor, was pointing to the location of the first fire to another neighbor, when she noticed smoke 
rolling from the attic. Of course, she quickly notified the fire department. Since it was difficult 
to pinpoint the exact location of the fire, it was necessary to pour large quantities of water into 
the attic, virtually flooding the house. Due to the hard work of students and neighbors, the 
furniture was removed before much damage could be done. The only piece of furniture that suffered 
irreparable damage was Mrs. Still's glass table top but not to her disappointment. Because of the 
size of the dining room table, the glass covering was extremely large and difficult to store. It was 
to her relief that someone stepped on it, and she no longer had to struggle with its storage.

Mrs. Still was a well-respected woman among leading osteopathic physicians nationwide because of her 
attendance with Dr. Still at osteopathic meetings. When she died, in December, 1943, Charles 
donated the home to the school in her memory. He said in the deed, "This is being done being desirous 
of perpetuating the memory of Anna R. Still, and wishing to dedicate to her great and lifetime 
devotion to the science of osteopathy a fitting memorial, and by the same token further the 
teachings, preservation, and extension of the principles and precepts of the science of osteopathy 
as founded by the late Dr. A. T. Still ... for the exclusive purpose of the osteopathic treatment 
of ill, sick, and convalescing patients." With the gift of the home, Dr. Charles Still was paying 
tribute to the women, including his wife, sister, and mother, who had important supporting roles 
in the development and spread of osteopathy. The home was named the Anna R. Still Memorial 
Convalescent Home, and Dr. Still's living daughter, Dr. Elizabeth Esterline, was the 
physician-in-charge. Dr. Still gave the home with the stipulation that he would be allowed to 
live there, and so he did until his death on July 6, 1955.

When the house was made into a convalescent home, major structural changes were made. The most 
important change was the addition of an elevator in the middle of the home, which eliminated the 
breakfast room and butler pantry. Many of the large rooms were divided into smaller bedrooms. The 
kitchen on the first floor was converted to a bedroom and a larger kitchen was added in the basement. 
The master bedroom was divided into two rooms, and bathrooms were added to the second and third 
floors. The ballroom was divided into rooms. Above the doors call lights were installed.

In 1957 it was determined that the house was no longer suited for a convalescent home. Under the 
conditions of the original deed, the property reverted to Charles' children. In 1958 the Atlas 
Club, a Kirksville College of Osteopathy fraternity, bought the home to be used as a club house and 
residence fof members of the club. Because Dr. Still was the first member of the Axis chapter of 
the Atlas Club in Kirksville, the club was honorarily named the Charles E. Still Memorial Axis 
Chapter of the Atlas Club. Over the years it has been referred to as the Atlas House. At the time 
the club bought the home, the surrounding property was an acre and a half. By this time the rest of 
the property previously owned by the Still family had been sold to Kirksville College of Osteopathy 
and Surgery.

When the club first bought the house some rennovation work was done; showers were added on the 
second and third floors and a few rooms were repaired. With the passage of time, however, the home 
has deteriorated. The club has not always had the funds to properly care for a home of its size, 
and for a number of years some of the members were rough on the home. Currently, the members have 
been working to improve the home with a long term goal of restoration. Two years ago the club bought 
the carpet from Laughlin Pavilion for the first and second floors. The electrical system has been 
rewired in order to bring the house up to city codes, but there are still more improvements that 
can be made. Last summer members from the class of 1989 spent much of their summer painting the 
outside and some of the inside. Michael Bays, current president of the club, said, "It [restoration] 
should probably take quite some time. As long as there are guys living in the house, like a 
fraternity house, it will always be used. There will always

[photo caption] For the convenience of the convalescent home, an elevator was installed in the 
middle of the house. Over the years the elevator has ceased to work and now is a nuisance and an 
eyesore.

[photo caption] When the home was built in 1912, the kitchen was on me first floor. When used as a 
convalescent home, a larger, more adequate kitchen was placed in the basement; the original kitchen 
became a bedroom. (Photo courtesy of the KCOM Andrew Taylor Still Memorial Library)

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[photo caption] The convalescent home had private bedrooms and bathrooms. The physician-in-charge 
was Charles Still's daughter, Dr. Elizabeth Esterline. (Photo courtesy of the KCOM Andrew Taylor 
Still Memorial Library)

be things happening, Whenever people live in a house there is always going to be destruction to 
it. The only thing you can do is just take care of things as they pop up and make little improvements 
along the way."

The members of the club have held fund-raisers to finance the restoration and repairs. They are 
presently involved in a mail campaign to alumni for funds. The goal of the recent fundraiser was the 
removal of the elevator shaft. The elevator has not worked for years, and it has become a nuisance and 
an eyesore. The current bid is $15,000, but others feel it will cost much more. Over the years the home 
has settled around the shaft and the electrical boxes are in the elevator walls so there are many 
difficulties involved in the removal. The club members have raised only $5,000, far from enough money. 
Monte Sellers, a resident of the home, said, "The problem we have is that we have many different 
classes coming through; we have a transitory population so there is not much continuity in the 
program." Aaron Tucker, the member primarily in charge of the mail campaign, agreed. He said, "The 
biggest problem is the constant change of students. Each year there are new students who must carry 
on the program. And there are some good years and some bad. Hopefully the guys in the future will 
continue the programs and keep pressing for improvements."

The main priority of the, members now is to have the home placed on the National Register of Historical 
Places. That is the official list of the nation's cultural resources worthy of preservation. It is 
under the division of Interior National Park Service within the United States government. There is a 
specific process the home must go through to be placed on the Register. It involves an extensive 
written and photographic documentation, including a complete history of the home and detailed description 
of the architecture. When the necessary forms are completed, they are sent to Jefferson City to be 
reviewed by the Missouri Advisory Council on Historic Preservation. The committee determines whether 
the home is worthy to be placed on the Register. If so, the forms are sent to the federal committee, 
the Keeper of the National Register makes the final decision concerning the placement of the home on 
the list. To be placed on the National Register, a property must retain most of its historic 
physical characteristics and possess integrity. Considering the home's involvement in the history of 
osteopathy in relationship with the Still family and the osteopathic school and the fact that it 
is the best remaining structure of neo-classical style in Kirksville, the house has potential. 
John Thomas, former Historic Surveyor for the Adair County Regional Planning Commission, said, 
"I feel confident that it is eligible for placement on the National Register of Historic Places." 
Hugh Davidson, Preservation Planner of the Historic Preservation Program, visited the home briefly 
at the request of Mr. Thomas, and he, too, felt the house was potentially eligible.

Charles Still, Jr. said he was discouraged when he saw the deterioration of the outside of his 
former home. He and others have recognized the futility of restoring the home to its original 
state; too many alterations have been made. He said, "If it were to be restored, they would need 
a purpose, a use, for the home." It has been suggested by him and members of the club that the 
house would be ideal for a museum, perhaps with administrative offices on the top floors. Whatever 
the use, the main concern of many right now is accomplishing the restoration of the home and not 
letting it deteriorate further. Mr. Bays said, "Our worst nightmare is that they are going to tear 
it down and build something else in its place like a parking lot or something, but I hope that 
won't happen." It would be a terrible shame if the Charles Still Home, a building that represents 
so much history in Kirksville, were destroyed. That is why members of the club and other 
interested people are working hard to get the home restored. Mr. Bays said, "What I would really 
like to see is that it is a structure that stands forever." He expresses the feelings of many 
who want the home to remain a lasting foundation.

[photo caption] In 1958, the Atlas Club, a Kirksville College of Osteopathy fraternity, bought 
the Charles Still Home to use as a residence for club members.

By Cathi Fredricks and Kim Crosley

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

A COLLEGE . . . WHERE?

Annual Catalogue of Oaklawn College 1896-97. Springfield, MO: Charles Nevatt.

History of Lewis, Clark, Knox and Scotland Counties, Missouri. Marceline, MO: Walsworth 
Publishing Co., originally printed in 1887, pp. 672, 673.

"History of Novelty in 1838." Edina Sentinal, September 2, 1981. Photocopied article from 
Junior Wilkerson.
Knobbs, Pauline D. "Oaklawn College." Nemoscope, Winter, 1952, pp. 5-7.

"Novelty and Vicinity." Photocopied material from Harold Browning, no date.

Oaklawn College. Photocopied material from Junior Wilkerson, no title or date.

Oaklawn College Commencement Exercises. Pamphlet dated 1876.

Oaklawn Inspirator, November, 1895.

Wilkerson, Junior. "Oaklawn College." Interview at his home, February 20, 1988.

Williams, Walter, ed. A History of Northeast Missouri Volume 1. Chicago: Lewis Publishing Co., 
1913, pp. 374, 419.

SPERRY'S OWN DR. KENNEDY

Ambrosia, Mildred. "Dr. Kennedy." Interview at her home. February 18, 1988.

Ambrosia, Mildred. "The Country Doctor." Handwritten material, no date.

WILLIAM UNGER - A MAN WHO TAUGHT PEOPLE HOW TO SEE

"Art Memorial Begins In Professor's Honor." The Index, October 30, 1980, p. 10.

"Art Mural Vandalized: No Motive Discovered." The Index, September 23, 1976, p. 3.

"Bill Unger Honors Tom Benton." Nemoscope Supplement Volume 30, 1976, pp. 4, 5.

Bull, Dianne. "William Unger Wins 'Prix-de-Rome'; Highest Honor at Any Art Academy." The Teachers 
College Index, November 6, 1963, p. 1.

"Dedicate Mural." Kirksville Daily Express, November 1, 1976, p. 4.

DeVito, Angela. "Mural Reflects American Past." The Index, February 26, 1976, p. 3.

"Four Paintings By Unger Accepted For NYC Exhibit." Kirksville Daily Express, November 22, 1976, 
p. 9.

"General's Portrait Painted By Unger." The Index, May 8, 1963, p. 1.

"High Austrian Honor For NMSU Professor Emeritus." Kirksville Daily Express, May 30, 1979, pp. 1, 2.

Jorgenson, Dale. "William Unger." Interview at his home, February 6, 1988.

"Memorial Rites Wednesday For William Unger." Kirksville Daily Express, August 11, 1980, p. 1.

Murray, William, "William Unger." Interview at his home, February 6, 1988.

"New Mural in SUB Depicts Campus Life." The Index, February 16, 1978, p. 3.

Paulding, James and Helga. "William Unger." Interview at their home, February 16, 1988.

"Present Program." Kirksville Daily Express, February 9, 1976, p. 4.

Spaudling, E. Wilder. The Quiet Invaders: The Story of the Austrian Impact Upon America. Vienna: 
Unterright, Wissenschaft und Kunst, 1968, p. 219.

"Thomas Hart Benton Mural by William Unger." A brochure published by Northeast Missouri State 
University, no date.

"Unger Dies At Age 66." The Index, September 11, 1980, p. 9.

"Unger Exhibit On Display." The Index, July 22, 1964, p. 3.

Unger, Hedwig, "William Unger." Interview at her home, February 6, 1988.

"Unger Restores Historic Mural." The Index, July 17, 1973, p. 8.

"Unger's Paintings Are Selected For Paris Exhibit." Kirksville Daily Express, October 2, 1975, 
p. 15.

"Unger: the Artist." The Index, August 7, 1975, p. 12.

"Unger To Exhibit Multi-Media Works In New York Show." The Index, April 23, 1970, p 6.

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"Unger To Paint Portrait For Ag Hall Of Fame." The Index, February 9, 1966, p. 1.

"William Unger Is Exhibiting Pictures at Kirksville Country Club." The Index, July 31, 1963, 
p. 1.

"William Unger's Grandfather Mentioned In Music Educators Journal." Fine Arts Division, NMSC 
Newsletter, Winter, 1967-1968, p. 3.

"William Unger To Be Chillicothe Resident Artist." Kirksville Daily Express, April 1, 1976, 
p. 16.

KIRKSVILLE THROUGH THE EYES OF A NATIVE

"The Cabin." Photocopied material from the Still National Osteopathic Museum, no date.

Denslow, Jane. "Jane Denslow." Conversation and Interview at Twin Pines Nursing Home, January 
30, 1988, February 22, 1988, and March 7, 1988.

Denslow, John Stedman. "Adair County Biographical Index." Photocopied material from the NMSU 
Missouriana Room, no date.

"Denslow, John Stedman." A Chronology of Adair County Historical Items Gleaned from Kirksville 
Newspapers: Volume 3 1945-1967. October 31, 1950 and October 3, 1957.

Kirksville-Adair County Bicentennial Committee. A Book of Adair County History. Kirksville: 
Simpson Printing Co., 1976, pp. 212, 322.

"The Laughlin Bowl and the Pageant of Progress." Photocopied material from the Still National 
Osteopathic Museum, no date.

"The Laughlin Era." Photocopied material from the Still National Osteopathic Museum, no date.

Wallin's Directory of Adair County, Missouri, 1899-1900. Quincy, IL: Wallin Directory Co., 1898, 
no page number.

A STILL AND LASTING FOUNDATION

"Anna R. Still Memorial Osteopathic Convalescent Home advertisements." Journal of Osteopathy, 
August, 1946, p. 39; May, 1949, p. 39; July, 1949, p. 33; August, 1949, p. 33.

"Atlas Club Buys Former Still Home." Kirksville Daily Express, April 14, 1958, p. 8.

"Atlas House." Historic Inventory from the Office of Historic Preservation, Jefferson City, MO, 
#65, October, 1986.
Bays, Michael. "Atlas House." Interview at the Atlas Club, February 22, 1988.

"Charles E. Still Gives Home In Trust to Kirksville College." Journal of Osteopathy, August, 
1944, p. 21.
Davidson, Hugh. Letter to the Atlas Club dated July 22, 1987.

Denslow, Jane. "Atlas House." Interview at Twin Pines, February 24, 1988.

"Dr. C. E. Still Gives Home to Osteopathy." Kirksville Daily Express, October 12, 1944, p. 1.

"Dr. Charles Still, 90 Years Old, Dies." Kirksville Daily Express, July 7, 1955, p. 1.

"Fire and Water Damage Dr. C. E. Still's Home." Kirksville Daily Express, March 12, 1930, p. 1.

"Mrs. C. E. Still Dies at Family Home Here." Kirksville Daily Express, December 3, 1943, p. 1.

"Mrs. Charles E. Still Dies." Journal of Osteopathy, January, 1944, p. 33.

Official Manual of the State of Missouri, 1937, p. 107.

Patterson, H. M. "Interesting Folks in Kirksville." Kirksville Journal, July 2, 1914.

Riley, George. "Dr. George W. Riley Delivers Dedicatory Address at Kirksville." Journal of 
Osteopathy, November, 1946, pp. 11-13, 40.

Sellers, Monte. "Atlas House." Interview at the Atlas Club, February 22, 1988.

Still, Charles Jr. "Atlas House." Telephone interview, February 22, 1988.

Thomas, John. "Atlas House." Telephone interview, March 4, 1988.

Thomas, John. Letter to the Atlas Club dated July 14, 1987.

Thomas, John. "Possible Demolition of the Dr. Charles Still Mansion is Planned." Kirksville Daily 
Express, July 19, 1987, p. 6.

Tucker, Aaron. "Atlas House. " Interviewed at the Atlas Club, March 12, 1988.

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