Ozarks' History

Mountain Home, Arkansas, Square - Circa 1904

2011-11-14T10:45:00.001-06:00

The reprints of the Mountain Home Square are in!

This picture can also be found in Mary Ann Messicks' book, History of Baxter County: Centennial Edition 1873 - 1973, page 51. According to her book, this picture was taken after 1904.

These reprints can be purchased in Mountain Home at:

The Mountain Home Chamber of Commerce
Old Tyme Restaurant on the Square
Baxter County Historical and Genealogical Society Archives

Jack Clayton, of Nature’s Way on the Square, has also graciously consented to display a copy of the picture with info on where to purchase it.

These unframed reprints will make great Christmas presents.

12 x 18 is $10.00

16 x 24 is $15.00

Call: 870-425-2551

Crime in Early Ozark County, Missouri.

2011-11-14T08:47:00.001-06:00

While researching 19^th century newspapers for certain news items in Ozark County, Missouri, I came across these three small articles. It's sometimes surprising to see what went on in a place I grew-up in. Nevertheless, the dark side of life is still a part of our Ozarks' History.

A KIDNAPER CAPTURED

Jefferson Taylor Found In Hunt County and

Taken Back to Missouri.

Special to the Gazette.

Greenville, Tex. Jan. 27—- Sheriff J. Mason of this county has just returned from a hard ride of sixty miles or more made yesterday and last night during which he effected an important arrest. On yesterday Sheriff Hawkins of Ozark county, Missouri, arrived in Greenville with requisition papers for one Jefferson Taylor, charged with the abduction in the county and state mentioned about the 1^st of December, last, from her father, of Eva Taylor a little girl of seven or eight years Sheriff Mason accompanied by the Missouri sheriff proceeded to the south part of the county where twenty-five miles distant in the bottoms of the Sabine in a tie camp they found and arrested Taylor, the abductor. They also found the little girl in question and the officers arrived with both late last night. This is one of number of important cases worked up by our alert and active sheriff. Sheriff Hawkins, with his prisoner and the little girl, left to-day. The prisoner, Jefferson Taylor is related by marriage to the child, Eva Taylor. He was trying to make his way to California with her.

Robbed the Collector.

West Plains, Mo., Oct. 19 —- Frank Gacho and wife have been arrested for robbing W. C. Morrison, collector of Ozark county, of $700. After being arrested the woman managed to secrete the money under u rock, but after some time she weakened and gave the whole thing away. The money was found and the guilty man and woman bound over to the grand jury.

BEATING THE GOVERNMENT.

An Extraordinary Pension Fraud Case

Reported from Missouri.

St. Louis, May 6 —- The principals in an extraordinary pension fraud case were arrested in different parts of the state Friday. Jacob Little, a Union soldier, died in Andersonville prison, and in 1871 his widow was awarded a pension of $36 a month. She married a man named Barnes and died in 1873. Barnes took his wife's pension papers and came to Pettis county, Md., where he married a widow named Rogers. He induced her to impersonate the deceased Mrs. Little, which she did successfully and drew the pension. Barnes died in 1877, and the widow took up with a man named Ritt, who was soon in possession of the pension story. She wanted to quit drawing the money, but Ritt compelled her to continue the fraud until they separated about a year ago.

Then she ceased drawing the money and the government, desiring to know why the money was not drawn, started an investigation. After six months' hard work the conspiracy was unearthed and Mrs. Barnes was arrested Friday at Somerset, Ozark county, and Ritt was taken into custody in this city.

Sources:

“A Kidnapper Captured.” Fort Worth Daily Gazette 13.179 (28 Jan., 1888) 6.

“Beating the Government.” The Evening Bulletin, Maysville, Kentucky. 8.140 (6 May, 1889) 4.

“Robbed the Collector.” The Guthrie Daily Leader 1.275 (20 Oct. 1893) 1.

Pioneer Descendants Gathering - Douglas County Missouri.

2011-10-03T11:21:00.002-05:00

Writing stories, transcribing newspapers, or decipher documents can sometimes seem to cause an estrangement from the elements that one can be researching. The remedy for this predicament is to go somewhere and re-immerse and discover the true pleasures & hardships that wrought about the first love and simple connections of our Ozarks’ History.

To this situation, I found a simple answer for this weekend; it is called the “Pioneer Descendants Gathering,” hosted by Dale & Betty Thomas. Simply put, this is one of the best kept secrets of the Ozarks. This couple has provided this venue, free of charge, for the past ten years on their farm on Bryant Creek. That’s right; exhibitors and participants have been coming here the first weekend in October, at no charge, for the last 10 years because of Dale & Betty’s love of what they treasure from our Ozark’s past. This gatherings not thrown together haphazardly. All exhibits, demonstrations, and animals must be approved by the Dale & Betty; everything has a purpose in teaching & retaining past Ozark customs & traditions. This event is also promoted by many of the descendants of Tom Brown and John Burden.

On my trip from Arkansas, I drove down one of the many scenic highways in Ozark & Douglas Counties. One such highway is 95. This road snakes through a beautiful hardwood & pine forest, passing nearby old Rockbridge, Missouri. Then, I took Highway 14 and headed west after I made it to Gentryville. There is no way to arrive at the Pioneer Descendants Gathering there by accident; it must be found on purpose. In looking back at its’ placement in the wilderness, I believe this is just one element in keeping the genuine uniqueness of this event.

Double Click on Pictures to Enlarge.

Highway 95.

If one is traveling from Ava, Missouri, it is 18 miles East on Hwy. 14 to County Road 341, and then follow the signs. If traveling from Mountain Grove, Missouri, take Hwy. 95 South to Gentryville, Missouri, turn right on Hwy 14, drive West 4 miles to County Road 341, and follow the signs to the “Edge of the World.”

At the beginning of County Road 34, there are 2 signs:"Pioneer Descendants Gathering" &"Yates Cemetery 3.7 Miles."

County Road 341.

The Hill Before the Great Descent.

“Check Brakes…End of the World.”

Near the bottom of the hill is the Yates Cemetery before passing by Dale & Betty’s House. After arriving at the bottom of the world and parking, everybody has a chance to contribute in helping Dale & Betty to continue this annual event. There is no pressure in compelling people to give. But after seeing & meeting people and connecting with our past, why wouldn’t someone give to an endeavor like this?

Donations.

I have been to town square celebrations and amusement parks that had portions of this venue, but there is no comparison to what can be experienced at this event. Additionally, these re-enactors have connections to the Ozarks which fall into the following categories: American Indian, Mountain Men, Territorial, Civil War, Ozark Pioneer, Spanish American War, and World War I. Before anyone asks why Spanish American War and World War I re-enactors are at the Pioneer Descendants Gathering, we had young men from the Ozarks who fought and died in these wars. I have a total of 3 great uncles & 4 great, great uncles, respectively, who lived through these wars and came back to the Ozarks. It is all these eras and events that make the tapestry of the Ozarks.

WWI

Re-enactors and vendors camp overnight modeling their respective time era with their accoutrements in tow.

Ozark Cooking.

Here is the running list of what was available: Antique Engines, Old Implements & Covered Wagons, Flint Knapping, Rope Making, Corn Grinding, Broom Making, Steam Tractors, Blacksmithing, Muzzle Loading Shoot, Wagon Rides, Wheel Wright, Rail Splitting, Cross Cut Sawing, Molasses Cooking, Wood Carving, Wool & Cotton Spinning & Weaving, Knife Making, Chair Canning, Ozark Rock Candy, Soap Making, Basket Weaving, Apple Butter Making, Apple Head Dolls, Candle Making, Red Oak Shingle Making, Historical Clothing & Patterns, and Sunday Service in the morning at 10 am. There is live music throughout both days with local bands. All you need is to bring your lawn chairs. Food & drinks are available. This is a family friendly area with no drugs & alcohol. There are no pets, dirt bikes, 3 or 4 wheels. Clean port potties are provided for men & women. Over-night camping for vendors is welcome, but arrangement must be made by calling 417-683-2482.

A Partial View of One Side of the Camp.

As I walked into the encampment, I was greeted by Betty Thomas selling raffle tickets for a quilt. She was stationed at the entrance and greeted everybody with genuineness, care, and hospitality. After speaking with her, I came across a young girl with her goat in harness pulling a split oak rail.

Girl & Goat in Tow.

Though I will only cover a few Ozark Craftsmen, it will only be a portion due to the concentration of these men & women in one place. So remember, there are many more at the gathering than space will allow me to mention.

Old Engines & Tractors.

Old Engine Used To Cut Ozark Red Cedar.

Pumping Water.

Ozark Wagon Rides.

Gathering Under the Pavilion to Hear Local Bands.

Wheel Wright & Wagon Maker

Dale Thomas is an Ozark craftsman is every sense of the word. Dale is an accomplished Wheel Wright and can build the complete wagon of our former Ozark pioneers. Dale also has two men that work with him as Apprentice Wheel Wrights, Ed Miller in his 3^rd year and Charles Witter in his 2^nd year.

The Wagon Maker

Bryant Creek Wagon Works

Rebuilt By

Dale Thomas

Rt. 5 Ava

417-683-2482

Ozark Relic Comes to Life.

The work, time, and expertise that goes into producing each wheel is amazing. Each wheel takes about the total of 80 hours. The wood for each spoke must be cured for 4 years. It takes anywhere from 45 minutes to carve one spoke; there’s 14 spokes to a wheel. If a spoke happens to have a knot or crack, it must be discarded, and a new one must be made to replace it. The steel rims are cut from ¼ inch steel, roll/crimped into shape, and ends are connected.


Apprentice Wheel Wright, Ed Miller, shows the device use to bend 1/4 inch steel into a wheel rim.

Wheel Wright Shop.

The rim it is heated in a fire pit for at least 3 hours in order for it to expand.

The Team of 3 Work Together.

The rim is then pulled out of the coals and quickly brushed/cleaned off.

The hot rim is place rapidly placed on the wooden wheel.

Snapping the Rim into Place.

Pitchers of cold water are poured over the rim, causing the hot steel to cool & contract around the wooden rim.

Finished Product...1 Wheel = 80 Hours.

Soap & Shingles

Terry & Cathy Wyatt from Eminence, Missouri, were also a popular exhibitors & re-enactors. Cathy makes homemade lye soap, cooked in an old kettle. She warmly welcomes every passerby and walks through the process of making soap. She also sells her soap for a nominal fee, but the history lesson in 3 minutes is far more priceless.

Cathy Cooking Lye Soap.

Terry splits red oak wood into familiar shingles that once was a mainstay & adorned the roofs of every log cabin in the Ozarks for years.

Finished Product.

Ozark Rock Candy

This candy was use for diluting the harsh taste when hard cider or whiskey was use for "Medicinal Purposes." The candy was dropped into the glass, and sizzled in order for the sugar & flavoring to do its’ magic. The term came to be known as “Rock & Whiskey.”

My favorite flavor…cherry. A bag of homemade rock candy was only $1.00. I should’ve bought more. Most of it was gone by 1:00 pm.

Bag of Rock Candy…$1.00.

Stilling Molasses

Tony& Linda Stillings, with their grandson Caleb, are a family that puts to practice of passing on their tradition of pressing & cooking molasses to the 4^th generation. They usually plant from ½ to an acre of cane each season. Tony& Linda also have a gathering at their farm to make molasses on the 3^rd Saturday every September.

Molasses Exhibit.

Cooking & Skimming the Molasses.

Grinding Corn

While there, their grandson, Caleb Stillings, was also demonstrating grinding corn for chicken feed, grits, and corn meal. While watching him, I was reminiscing about the time, as a child, grinding corn in the same manner. Granny Anderson would fill her apron and I to would fill my shirt with cracked corn; then we would call & feed the chickens.

Broom Making

The Andersland Family from Nottinghill, in Ozark County, Missouri, makes handcrafted brooms the old fashion way. Deb and her daughter, Emily, apprenticed at the Ozark Folk Center in Mountain View, Arkansas, and are accomplished in their art. Their website can be found at www.nottinghillcraftworks.

Making Brooms.

Old Weapons / Spinning Cotton & Wool

Butch & Dawn Stone are a couple that shows their heart for Ozark Customs. Butch is a well-known Ozark trapper, bowyer, and hunter. He is known for making beautiful, handmade primitive bows and knapped arrows, flintlock, and percussion guns. He is a craftsman of turkey calls and primitive archery equipment.

Dawn has an excellent reputation for dying wool and is the shepherdess. Working with the wool includes: shearing, washing, carding or combing, spinning, knitting, felting or weaving. Depending upon the project, the wool is sometimes dyed, usually with natural or vegetal dyes. Being a botany major in college, Dawn prefers to collect and use plant materials from the local area. Osage orange wood shavings from Butch's bow making also yields an excellent dye.

Dawn Spinning Cotton. Cotton Plant in the Foreground.

Ozark Delights

P. O. Box 154

Ava, MO 65608

(417) 683-2060

lilhollow@getgoin.net

www.littlehollow.com

Butch & Dawn were also demonstrators in the past at Silver Dollar City’s National Harvest Festival for 2 years.

Rope Making.

Some of My Souvenirs: Soap $1.00 & Beeswax Candles $1.25 Each.

Reflection

In looking back over the day, I had not only learned about my family’s customs & traditions, I experienced them one again. It drew my heart in admiration and respect for these who came and pioneered this rugged wilderness; they made it their home. They didn't endure it only for themselves, but for future generations. I believe this is one of the unique qualities of the people who live in these Ozark hills.

I ask you, Dear Reader. Do you know where you’ve come from. Do you know where home is at? Even of it seems you too are in a rugged wilderness, I believe we all have a longing for a sense for home. In meeting many of these people for the first time, there was a sense of belonging…a sense of an Ozark hospitality & home. If you too would like to experience this for yourself, I invite you to make your plans for next year, the 1st weekend in October, to the 11^th Annual Pioneer Descendants Gathering. Together, we can make it a part of our ongoing Ozarks’ History.

Thanks Dale & Betty Thomas.

Arkansas Genealogy Roadshow II

2011-10-01T21:05:00.001-05:00

I would like to thank all who came and volunteered or participated at the recent Arkansas Genealogy Roadshow at the Donald W. Reynolds Library in Mountain Home, Arkansas, September 24th. Additionally, this huge event could not be possible without the staff of the library. I would like to personally thank Julie Stewart, who works at the library as our Volunteer Coordinator, for all her work behind the scenes.

I am also grateful for the 11 local Historical Societies setting up tables & 6 Genealogy Expert Tables sharing their love of genealogy & history.

The lectures were wonderful and informative with Dr. Lisa Perry, from the NorthEast Arkansas Regional Archives (NEARA), Dr. Daniel Littlefield Jr. - Dr. Littlefield, author, lecturer, and director of UALR’s Sequoyah National Research Center, Mr. Michael Bentley with his extensive & knowledge in photograghs of the Pre Civil War/ Civil War Antebellum / Late 1800's Eras, and Dr. Buford Suffridge sharing how the utilization of DNA can work as an aide in Genealogy Research. Furthermore, I would also like to thank the Arkansas Genealogical Society for co-sponsoring this event.

I believe this will not be the last of our Local History & Genealogy Reunions in the future as we learn and discover our Ozarks’ History.

I am Respectfully Yours,

Vincent

Arkansas Genealogy Roadshow I

2011-09-02T11:54:00.002-05:00

I haven't been writing too much due to the upcoming event at my library. The Donald W. Reynolds Library in Mountain Home, Arkansas, is preparing to have an Arkansas Genealogy Roadshow on Saturday, September 24th. This event will be co-sponsored by the Arkansas Genealogical Society. We are working on having experts in the field of genealogy to lecture on their specialties.

You are invited.

Cost...No Charge!

In addition, there will be a chance to:

Ask the Experts Questions
Visit Genealogy Vendors
Visit Historical & Genealogical Society Tables
Share Family History with Others
Bring & Share Photographs

The Roadshow will begin at 9:00 am and end at 3:00 pm. There will be no charge for the public to attend. This will be our first Arkansas Genealogy Roadshow in Mountain Home, and the excitement for this event is growing.

Itinerary

Saturday, September 24^th

7:00 – 9:00 Vendor/Speaker Arrival & Set-up.

9:00 – 9:15 Welcome & Announcements.

9:15 – 10:00 - Lisa Perry - Lisa is from the NorthEast Arkansas Regional Archives (NEARA) in Powhatan, Arkansas. The archive is a branch of the Arkansas History Commission (State Archives). NEARA's mission is to collect, preserve, and make available, source materials pertaining to the history of northeast Arkansas and its people. this facility will be an asset for those doing genealogical or historical research. Lisa will discuss NEARA's holdings which include traditional archival material such as letters, diaries, maps, photographs, newspapers, and broadsides. Books, periodicals, and other print resources create a general Arkansas history reference library. The core of NEARA's initial holdings included approximately 500 cubic feet of Lawrence County government records, donated by the Lawrence County Historical Society. These county records are among Arkansas's earliest documentary resources. Records from numerous counties in the region are also available on microfilm. As the "Mother of Counties," Lawrence County was established in 1815, prior to the creation of Arkansas Territory (1819). The county encompassed most of north Arkansas, and was later subdivided into more than thirty modern counties in both Arkansas and Missouri.

10:00 – 10:45 Ask the Experts Questions at their tables.

Vendor Tables Open.

10:45 – 11:45 Dr. Daniel Littlefield Jr. - Dr. Littlefield, author, lecturer, and director of UALR’s Sequoyah National Research Center, is a popular speaker on Native American Genealogy. The Sequoyah Center holds the largest assemblage of Native American expression in the world.

11:45 – 1:00 Lunch...Dutch Treat. Volunteers will be handing out maps to local restaurants.

1:00 – 1:45 Michael Bentley- Michael has an extensive collection of Antebellum / Civil War / Late 1800's Photographs. He has a potential to help identify on the Kinds, Types & Eras of Photographs.

2:00 - 3:00 Dr. Buford Suffridge, retired orthodontist, will speak on the utilization of DNA as an aide in Genealogy Research.

3:00 It’s Over.

I hope to see you there!

Vincent

The Stones Cry Out: The Grisso Cemetery

2011-08-12T15:09:00.017-05:00

The story behind the Grisso Cemetery is something that has held my fascination in the Ozarks' History for years. It happened last week that I was in a general region of this spot, but I didn’t have a map to guide my path. Looking for a small plot of land nestled in the rugged Ozark hills could be the proverbial “needle in the haystack.” So, I started looking for a house that looked like someone lived in the area for a long time or was native to the Ozarks. The first big clue…start looking for a farm that has a mule. Most likely, the people living there are natives. Therefore, they know the area well.

It was within the first county road I went down I found a mule in a farmer's front yard. It so happened that this mule got out of its’ corral, was roaming near the road, and waiting for me to arrive. This was just what I needed! When stepping out of my van, the mule brayed the welcomed sound of, “You’ve found the right person!” After knocking on the farmhouse door and talking to the farmer & his wife for a few minutes, I had the detailed directions I needed…Go to Gepp, Arkansas, and turn north on Hwy 87.

After traveling north about two miles on Highway 87, I came down a typical Ozark winding hill, crossed a bridge over a small bayou, and turned down the first county road. This brought me to the area of Vidette, Arkansas. On my right, I spotted a unmarked dirt road called, Mount Calm Road. Hoping this was the right passage, I traveled over this rocky trail for about two and a half miles. Finally, I passed by a sign entitled, “Grisso Cemetery.” The cemetery itself wasn’t quickly distinguishable; so, I drove up the next hill and asked a neighbor for a bit of clarification. After their cordial hospitality, I was quickly back on track.

Unfortunately, there are not huge volumes of history published about this particular area and its’ inhabitants. But what information is known will leave the reader wanting more. According to the Baxter County cemetery book, Of Grave Importance, this is one of the oldest cemeteries in the area. The land was donated by the Grisso family in1893, although people have been buried here for a much longer time. Many of these stone markers have no inscriptions or have been eroded over time by the acidic rain. The Grisso Cemetery, shaded by the cedar trees along the Mount Calm Branch, is one of the few cemeteries where slaves are buried along side of their owners.

As I stepped out of my van, I was greeted by dragonflies that seemed to swarm rhythmically to the heat and humidity of the day; the temperature had dropped to 103 degrees at 6:15 in the evening. I jumped the cattle gate and walked down the pasture road few hundred yards to find the cemetery. As I walked through the gate of the cemetery, somehow I knew I would discover more than what I was looking for. Yet, in these next few moments of discovery, I left with even more questions.

In the past, I had read Donald Hubbelle, Jr.’s book, Bennett’s Bayou, Bennett's River 1830-1900, which has most of the written narrative concerning this area. I was rehearsing its’ pages through my mind and connecting my past conjecture with the evidence that surrounded me. Sketches of past times & lives can sometimes be gleaned while walking along olden ground such as this, listening to the lay of the land, and looking at the placement of the stones of those who have traversed our soil. With anticipation, I slowly opened the gate that was fashioned in 1975 by Earl Harber, who took on the task of renovating the Grisso Cemetery entrance gate.

First…The Stones Speak Out.

In first observing the cemetery, it seemed a small sea of at least 100 worn field stones were strewn across the grass; some were tightly woven together, while others seemed to blast with a resounding crescendo from their imposing monuments. Some stones are only a few feet from each other in size which speaks that death knows no age boundary, especially in this time period. In its’ telling and scrutiny, there are three stories that seemed to beckon the sojourner. These are the stories of two soldiers, two brothers, and a husband and wife.

Soldiers in War & Peace

Once I passed through the stone gate, my eyes were quickly drawn to a small tombstone, lightly etched. As I ran my fingers over the worn engraving, its’ letters still faintly read, “Black…U.S. Soldier….1860. Below its’ soil rests a soldier who never knew fully the strife and division that would soon fracture the fragile union of our nation.

Though his first name, origin, and history are unspoken, his presence and death are still marked on an eroding ledger of stone at his journey’s end. The name “Black” has puzzled various people because slaves were buried in this cemetery. In the background of history, there were no black soldiers until the Emancipation Proclamation; black troops were being mustered by March, 1863. So by virtue of the date, we know this is not an African-American soldier but a soldier with the last name “Black.” Additionally, I have searched the Fulton County, Arkansas, records and have found a marriage between the Black Family & the Grisso Family. Maybe this could be a possible link to the past.

Still, the questions are many. What was his full identity? Where did he come from? Was his family from this area? Why was he traveling this nearby road? How did he pass away? What was his mission in this remote wilderness in 1860? Did his family have the opportunity to mourn at his grave?

Only a few feet away from this marker, stands another small marker carved to an apex to a small testimony of its’ owner. By tradition, confederate tombstones are carved in this fashion. Again, this nameless marker ironically stands by a Union soldier's grave and symbol of someone he would fight against. Yet, more questions arise in unison over another piece of ground that guards its’ silent occupant.

These two markers stand in tribute to those who sleep here. Nevertheless, it reminds us all that death is the great equalizer of us all. These two soldiers’ monuments speak of the divisions in our nation's past, while their stones lie in unity in the markers of time.

Brothers in Slavery

According to past records, there are at least 10 slaves buried in this cemetery. This is quite unique, due to the fact there was prejudice…even in death. All of the slave's first names, in this cemetery, are erased in the sands of time, except one…Allie. In a past interview with Area Wide News, information was given that Allie was of the Martin Harber Family; she was of the sweetest disposition, and no cook in Arkansas could out do her exploits’ in the kitchen.

According to the book, Bennett’s Bayou, Bennett's River 1830-1900, Jacob Grisso had owned two slaves who were brothers. They were rock masons, and Mr. Grisso rented them out to build chimneys and to do other masonry projects in the area. One of the brothers died in 1857 of small pox and was subsequently buried at the Grisso Cemetery. The remaining brother, with the permission of Mr. Grisso, took a wagon, a team of steers with a load of native stone and built a monument which today still covers the grave.

These are not randomly selected field stones. When inspecting these stones, they still have minuscule evidence of etchings of chisel and traces of tool marks that wrought large slabs of limestone into a memorial that would speak of the fidelity of brotherhood.

Next to this imposing monument, lies another stone with the solitary caption “SLAVE” eroding from its’ once embedded etching. No other name or title is given. According to oral tradition, this grave is said to be of the brother who erected his brother's imposing shrine. Hence, two brothers who toiled under the yoke of slavery and separated by different moments of death are now consigned by each other and resting from life’s labor and toil.

SLAVE

Husband & Wife

There are instances where words fail to communicate joy and love, as well as strife and grief. This is why I still go to cemeteries. Of all the grandeur that can be discovered while walking through revered stones, there are stories that can speak volumes by what is missing. Predominantly speaking, it is odd to see the absence of a husband’s grave along side of his wife. When I see this, I know there has got to be a rhyme or reason for this circumstance; it's out of the ordinary. I have known of the following narrative for quite some time, and this was another reason I was drawn to this tract of earth. Though the interred are not present where I am standing, it seems I can gleam some context to see a final resting place of those who have gone on before. So therefore, my Dear Reader, take to heart the axioms, morals, and principles that that even the stones reverberate.

In perusing over the weathered stones, the progenitors' gravestones of this cemetery are hauntingly absent.
Why?
Well, here's more of the story.

Only a quarter of a mile away, there is also a small cemetery located adjacent to the Grisso Cemetery; it contains about 20 graves with only four marked headstones. This other cemetery was reportedly started when the Jacob Grisso, born the 3rd of September, 1834, passed away in 1893, was buried here. The reason for his burial at this smaller cemetery, rather than the main Grisso Cemetery, was being Jacob’s wife was a most difficult woman to live with because she was “high strung.” As the story goes, Jacob had an affinity for drinking. Therefore, she would lock Jacob out of the house and force him to spend the night at the neighbors. When Jacob Grisso died, she refused to allow him to be buried in the established cemetery in spite of her family’s protest even though Jacob’s wishes were to buried in the familiar spot. Instead, Jacob Grisso was buried alone on top a hill in a piece of somewhat rocky ground. Afterward, about 20 other neighbors were interred along Jacob’s side. Additionally, as the story goes, Mrs. Martha Stinnett Grisso was buried in the main Grisso Cemetery. Nevertheless, her stone has been gently eroded by the acidic rains of time.

While standing in on this grassy bottom along the Mount Calm Branch, I could not help but chuckle and hear the scriptures from Proverbs reverberate in my heart.

It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman in a wide house. Proverbs 21:9

It is better to dwell in the wilderness, than with a contentious and an angry woman. Proverbs 21:19

Again...more questions. Why did Jacob drink? Could it be his drinking caused his wife to be so contentious? Or, was she so contentious, it drove Jacob to drinking?

While walking the banks of the brook near this cemetery, one’s eyes cannot help but to be drawn to the nearby forlorn hilltop where Jacob was interned, once again, among his neighbors sleeping in the wilderness. Only this time, he is resting in death’s slumber. It is in this place that glimpses of scenes of renewal, joy, and peace play upon my hopes.

It is my hope to those who have gone on before us have placed their hope in the Prince of Peace, may they be restored on that Golden Shore…in the Sweet Bye & Bye.

Rest In Peace Jacob Grisso.
May You Rest Forevermore.

Finally…The Stones Cry Out.

Reflection

The lessons of the past were rolling through my mind while I was surveying these fading memorials. These stones cannot only speak; they cry out a myriad of lessons. I remember writing a blog article back in June called, Glorious Flaws, Cherished Faults & Beautiful Offenses; it was during this time current post began to take hold in my mind.

I once took an Old Testament Class years ago; the rabbi taught for a solid week on offending others and being offended. These are the trespasses that will partition us into the wilderness of life. As a class, we were challenged to write down the trespasses & sins we had committed. The point being, if we never see & admit our trespasses, offenses, and sins, we will never know the release of true forgiveness. Honestly, I attempted this task twice, but I never brought it to where I knew it should be. I was too difficult to accomplish, and I took my list outside and burned it. My own sins, offenses, trespasses, and shortcomings were too difficult to admit…and to see. It is easier to say, “That’s all in my past, I forgiven.” But, wouldn’t it be nice to see exactly what I was forgiven of?

In the second week of July, of this year, I reattempted this exercise; again, it seemed to be a crushing blow. Pride & humility are never cohesive, and pride sours the milk of humility. So, I pulled out my notebook and once again took on the role of judge, and I started writing downs my faults. At first, I thought it wasn’t going to be that bad this time; it’s easy to begin with the petty things. As I listed my infractions, the sense of pain I had caused my Heavenly Father and those whom I have offended was overwhelming. I literally winced as I listed my infractions. It seemed as if something was cutting my soul and hitting the quick of my flesh. There were times I hesitated to continue writing my accusations as my pen bled my own guilt on paper, but they were all true.

After four grueling pages, I laid my pen down in shame; it was almost more than I could endure. Though the exercise was over, more trespasses flashed through my memory. But, I had accomplished a task to the point of my brokenness. I had chronicled my sins, trespasses, and offenses. The verdict was convincingly in, and I was guilty. It seemed as if many of my words and actions were poured out like water on to parched earth and were no longer retrievable. It was a memorial on paper that seemed not to only announce my guilt but my death too. It is in this register of guilt, I also realized there were people I have hurt because I put myself before them. Ugh…another trespass to add to the list. I see the circumstances that mirror Jacob's wife in castigating people into the wilderness of my heart. Yet, while all along, it is I who have traveled in a parched wilderness. Therefore, I cannot throw stones at Mrs. Grisso’s action; I am guilty too.

In finding my own guilt, there are two things I could cast my eyes upon and do. First, I could justify my actions and the hurt within myself. Or secondly, I could admit my frail & fallen human state and cast my eyes upon the cross of the One who paid for and covered my sin. If I have truly been forgiven, I can also release those who have offended me. Pain and hurt are not easy to part with when they have assumed to be my friends for years.

I still have my list, and I haven’t set a match to it yet. Even though the exercise is over, it is constantly in the back of my mind. Yet, all the while, I still make mistakes and remember more infractions to add to the list. Nevertheless, this list is no longer the harbinger of my guilt. It is a chronicle of my forgiveness I have received. Additionally, it is a list of fences that I have the opportunity to mend with those who will receive it.

These are some of the lessons I am learning while walking through old cemeteries. It is a lesson in my own frailty & mortality. These stone consistently remind me I am only here briefly; I am not promised tomorrow.

Stones can speak volumes; it really depends on their location. A stone in our hands can offer judgment & condemnation of others. On the other hand, stones can announce our work on earth is completed. When I pass away someday, my indentation in the soil may be minor; my memorial erected will fade away. Nevertheless, how I treat others can have an everlasting impact. I hope that you too, Dear Reader, can find peace while walking in this life and not only hope for what it is found beyond the grave.

For years I have seen the epitaph “Rest in Peace.” I firmly believe these stones do not speak only for those who are interred below the soil. I believe it is a blessing that is attainable for us in this life through forgiveness.

I pray…

to those who have labored…rest.

to those who have been separated…reunited.

to those who have fought for freedom…liberty.

to those who have reaped toil & strife…harmony.
    to those who have offended...compassion.
    to those who have been rejected...restoration.
    to those who have sinned...forgiveness.
    to those who are at odds...reunion.

May You Rest In Peace Dear Reader.

Rest Forevermore.

My Email: vincent.a@baxlib.org

Work Cited:

Hubbelle, Donald, Jr., 1981. Bennett’s Bayou, Bennett's River 1830-1900. The Enterprise Printing, Bull Shoals, Arkansas.

McIntosh, Emily. “Grisso Cemetery: Where History Runs Deep.” Area Wide News (19 Feb., 2009).

Messick, Mary Ann, (1973). History of Baxter County: Centennial Edition 1873-1973. Mountain Home Chamber of Commerce. International Graphics, Little Rock, AR.

Wakefield, Claudette Carter. Fulton County, Arkansas, Marriages 1887-1925.

Moonshine Chronicles I

2011-08-05T15:20:00.003-05:00

When people from out of town ask me questions about the Ozarks’ History, the topic of moonshine will arise ever so often in our conversation. There will always be speculation & rumor. Nevertheless, I thought it is time to pull up some of my stories I have collected over the past concerning this topic. This is a growing file, and I will post more in the future. Though some may seem entertaining and humorous, others will show division and tragedy.

In our first chronicle, we will discover the tragedy that occurs in a small town in the Ozarks, Mountain Home, Arkansas.

DRANK BLIND PIG WHISKY

Series of Sudden and Mysterious Deaths in Baxter County, Ark.

End of Article

In researching this heartbreaking misfortune, I actually came across quite a few stories about this incident. Here are a few more headlines.

Though this next article carries some of the same information in its beginning as the other articles, it also adds more a little more detail to the circumstances and some of the names of the men who partook of this deadly nectar.

Poison in Whiskey

Arkansas Town Startled by Many Mysterious Deaths.

Victims Are All Men.

They Tackled the Product of a "Blind Tiger."

Whisky To Be Analyzed.

Little Rock, Ark., Jan 18 - There is intense excitement in Baxter county over a series of sudden and mysterious deaths that have occurred in the vicinity of Mountain Home within the last few days. No less than six men, all of who were apparently in robust health, have been suddenly stricken and died within a very short time after the attack. In every case there were unmistakable symptoms of poisoning. Besides those who have died a number of others have suddenly become violently ill and their lives have been saved only by prompt medical attendance. Last week four men died in different places in almost exactly the same manner, showing the same symptoms. One of these men was a farmer named Hogan and the other Dr. Simpson, a physician at Mountain Home. The names of the other two are not obtainable here. On Friday E. L. Hayes, proprietor of a hotel at Buffalo and owner of an extensive zinc mine, died in the same sudden and mysterious manner.

A few miles away John Foute, another prominent citizen, pass away at almost the same time under exact similar circumstances. Both men were apparently in the best of health. Suddenly they grew faint, their faces turned deathly pale, their legs weakened under them and they fell to the ground and in a few minutes they were dead.

A strange feature of this series of mysterious deaths is that in every case the victim has been a male – either a man or boy over 16 years. This leads to the belief in the minds of some people that the systematic effort was being made in some mysterious way to rid the community of at least a large portion of its male population and that agency employed was some powerful poison. Some men became so frightened that they refuse to eat or drink anything until they were out of the neighborhood. Hardly a day has passed for more than a week which has failed to bring to light its new case of poisoning and physicians have kept their horses saddled in their stalls expecting emergency calls at any hour.

An investigation revealed the fact that Hayes and Foute as well as one or two other who had died in similar manner, had been attacked shortly visiting Mountain Homes, other victims had also been seen in Mountain Home just prior to their sudden illness. On further investigation it developed that the victims had in all cases taken a drink of whisky before the attack. The discovery seemed to settle the fact the poisonous whisky was the cause of the deaths, but there is no saloon at Mountain Home, and the source from which the whisky comes is a mystery. It is thought that a “blind tiger” is dispensing poison whisky, but whether it be through ignorance or with murderous intent is not known, and this doubt has added to the excitement. A bottle containing a small quantity of the stuff has been sent to St. Louis for an expert examination by a chemist. No one seems to know where it came from and determined effort is being made to discover who is responsible.

End of Article

One of the gentlemen that was documented in this story was Dr. Jeremiah Brady Simpson.

Dr. J. B. Simpson was born the 12th of March, 1851, and passed away 3rd of January, 1899. He is buried in the Mountain Home Cemetery in Baxter County, Arkansas. Dr. Simpson was the son of John Wilson and Sarah "Sallie" (Murphy) Simpson. He practiced medicine for three years in Ozark County, Missouri; then in 1876, he established a practice in Mountain Home, Arkansas, in partnership with Dr. A.J. Brewer. He later entered into partnership with his brother, Dr. Joseph T. Simpson, and Dr. R.C. Wallis.

Although his gravestone says he died on the 30th December, 1898, Mary Ann Messick, in The History of Baxter County, stated he died suddenly on the 3rd January, 1899. She notes that his obituary in the North Arkansas News begins with the statement "Never before was the entire community so shocked, as it was last Saturday morning, when the word was mournfully passed from lip to lip -- Dr. J.B. Simpson is dead." The day before that Saturday in January, 1899, was January 3rd. The 30th of December ,1898, was a Tuesday.

His grave-site can be found at these two links.

Works Cited:

“Blind Pig Whiskey.” The Cambridge Jeffersonian, Cambridge, Ohio (19 Jan., 1899) 2. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010. http://access.newspaperarchive.com/.

“Blind Tiger Running.” The Butte Weekly Miner (18 Jan., 1899) 14. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010. http://access.newspaperarchive.com/.

“Drank Blind Pig Whisky.” Aberdeen Daily News (18 Jan., 1899) 1. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010. http://access.newspaperarchive.com/.

Messick, Mary Ann, (1973). History of Baxter County: Centennial Edition 1873-1973. (44). Mountain Home Chamber of Commerce. International Graphics, Little Rock, AR.

“Poisoning by Wholesale.” Omaha World Herald (17 Jan., 1899) 1. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010. http://access.newspaperarchive.com/.

“Poison in Whiskey.” Kansas Semi-Weekly Capital (17 Jan., 1899) 1. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010. http://access.newspaperarchive.com/.

“Simpson, Jeremiah Brady.” Arkansas Gravestones Project. http://agp.arkansasgravestones.org/ .

“Simpson, Jeremiah Brady.” Find A Grave # 19218191. http://www.findagrave.com/.

Junior & Viola Peters

2011-07-18T09:10:00.012-05:00

Even such is time, which takes in trust

Our youth, our joys, and all we have,

And pays us but with age and dust,
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days,
And from which earth, and grave, and dust
The Lord will raise me up, I trust.

Epitaph by Sir Walter Raleigh

As I stated in the last blog, I enjoy going to old cemeteries, but I must admit I am also fond of another attraction…Old Jails. In the past, I have written about the first Ozark County Jail that was two stories high and only accessible by a ladder with its' own dungeon. For that story, please go to this link…Sweet Youth, Hot Lead, and Bitter Revenge - Part 3
Furthermore, this is not a detailed history of past Ozark County Jails, but it’s an account that runs much deeper than that.

I was asked this past week to speak back in my hometown of Gainesville, Missouri. While preparing my notes for the lecture, I also wrote a list of things I wanted take on my small trip. One of the first items on my list was a camera because I wanted to take pictures of some of my favorite places. The first subject on my list was the old Ozark County Jail, situated by the old Gainesville City Hall. This place has a small place of affinity in my heart and memory. How can a jail be a fond memory?

The Old Ozark County Jail
in Gainesville, Missouri.

Well, there’s a small story to this; so, let me digress for just a moment and talk about two people from Gainesville, Junior & Viola Peters. This is not a list of their genealogy; it far more important than that. This is a tribute & small chronicle to the character of two people that made a world of impression on me in the Ozarks. The meaning of the old county jail and other things will all fall together with a brief account about these two people. Though they are not with us today, I believe a brief narrative about these two unassuming and Godly people will draw the strings together and secure a representation of why this old jail holds memories for me.

As a child, my dad or mom would, in the summer, take me to the home of Junior & Viola Peters; Viola would watch me in the summers while my parents worked. Viola was the other lady to babysit me, when my Granny Anderson was unavailable. The Peters lived on T Highway, about 3 miles west of Mammoth, Missouri. They both went to my family church, Mammoth Assembly of God. Moreover, since they went to church there, I figured, they must be family somehow or somewhere near it. For years I called Viola, “Aunt Viola,” as a term of endearment, even though she was not my aunt. As I grew older, I took up the custom of calling her “Sister Viola” at church because that’s how everybody greeted everyone else at church, out of respect, if they were not blood related. It was always “Brother” or “Sister.” Brother Junior & Sister Viola were always faithful to come to church, and they would always sit in the same place, on the right hand side…four rows back.

I remember Sister Viola singing at church her favorite songs, such as: “Three Old Rusty Nails,” “In the Garden,” and my favorite, “Little Green Pills.” Viola could always make the best sweet pickles; and for some reason, I remember she always had plenty of cottage cheese for lunch. To this day, every time I eat sweet pickles or cottage cheese, I think of Viola.

Junior Peters was the Chief of Police for Gainesville and always had a distinctively low and raspy voice that was reminiscent of a lumberjack; yet, he was always a kind spoken gentleman. Additionally, he always nervously rattled his keys or coins in his pockets. Brother Junior used this distinct habit of “jingling” while he sang solos at church. He would come up behind the pulpit and apologize that he couldn’t sing that well, but we all knew it was from his heart. He would begin singing one of his old standbys like, “Turn Back My Child;” yet all the while, my Aunt Phyllis Long would be shaking her head at the piano trying to figure out what key it was in.

Turn back my child
For the way is very steep
The things you'll find out there
You cannot keep
The way is filled with thorns
And the things you'll find are cheap
Turn back my child, come home with me

His songs usually had three verses. By the time he was on the last verse or chorus and almost finished, Aunt Phyllis had finally figured out the key Brother Junior was singing in. We all knew at this point, the song was over, but that’s how things were, and the people were blessed by his sincere heart.

Eventually, Junior & Viola sold their house on T Highway and moved to Gainesville. Their house in Gainesville was only two block above the town square and situated catty-corner across two old landmarks, the old Gainesville City Hall & the old Ozark County Jail. The city hall was converted into a shirt factory for a while, and my mom worked there.

As a child at their house, Junior would always come home for lunch. After lunch, he would sit in his favorite chair, and I would again ask him to sing “Turn Back My Child.” Sometimes, he would open up his Bible, fumble through the pages for a tattered piece of paper with lyrics, and reciprocate my request.

Junior also played Santa Claus on the square in Gainesville. I remember one time my dad and I were in Don Eslinger’s hardware store on the square,and Junior walked in dressed as Santa. Somehow, behind that beard, he knew my name and gave me a candy cane. But, it was his voice that gave it all away. When he walked out the door, I turned to my dad and told him that was not really Santa Claus…but Junior Peters. I could tell by his voice.

Since Junior was the Chief of Police, he always joked with me that he could throw the bad criminals into the old county jail because he had the keys. In the afternoons, I would walk barefooted in the Peters’ yard and peer through their chain linked fence at the buildings across the street. The one building that always seemed to beg for exploration was the old vacant county jail.

The view from the corner of Junior & Viola Peters’ house
overlooking the old Gainesville City Hall &
the old Ozark County Jail below to the right.

Looking up the hill at the old county jail.

One day Junior took me across the street from his house, put me up on his shoulders, and let me peer through the steel grate placed in the jail house window. He would talk about the hard times for men who were incarcerated in its’ bulwarks , and the men who guarded them. It was also this jail that was in my mind when Junior would talk to me about men who were not just in a physical prison, but they were bound by a prison in their heart. He would give a small cockeyed grin, jingle his keys, and say there was only One who had the real keys to man’s heart...Jesus. He would also joke about having to train for a new job when he arrived in heaven because of the lack of crime that will be there.

Jail window with the steel grate.

So, there you have it. Every time I see sweet pickles or cottage cheese, I think of Aunt Viola. Every time I hear jiggling keys, see a Santa Claus, or spy an old jail, I think of Junior Peters. I grew up always knowing and loving Junior & Viola Peters. Though no books will probably ever be written about them, it was people like this who helped create a haven of rest wherever they trod.

Last night I was sharing with my son about this particular blog, and he stated we don’t find many people or times like that these days. Nevertheless, I believe we still have that same innate capacity inside of every one of us. I believe the “key” to this Ozark generosity & living is still knowing the One who owns the keys to our hearts. So I ask you, Dear Reader, whether you live in the Ozarks or not, why shouldn’t we live with the saving faith toward God, sincerity toward one another, and generosity to all? I believe in doing so, we once again bring alive the memory of those passed on and sample a part of our Ozarks’ History.

Work Cited:

“A Queer Missouri Jail. How Prisoners Fare When Incarcerated at Gainesville.” Aberdeen Daily Press 4.193 (22 Mar. 1890): 1. New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundation. United States Library of Congress, Washington D.C. 15 Nov. 2009 from http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/

Raleigh, Sir Walter (29 Nov 2004). Epitaph. Poetry X, Edited by Jough Dempsey. Retrieved 18 Jul. 2011 from http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/7886/ .

Slaughter, Henry & Hazel (1976). Turn Back My Child. Benson Sound.

Talburt / Casey Cemetery

2011-07-09T15:48:00.015-05:00

Exploring old cemeteries has been a favorite past time & hobby for me.

I recently came across an old newspaper article talking about one of my favorite small cemeteries in Baxter County, Arkansas, The Old Talburt/Casey Cemetery. As it was, at one time, neglected over the years, it has been recently groomed under the leadership of Captain Jeff Lewis of the Baxter County Sheriff's Office Inmate Restoration Program. Captain Lewis has also begun a blog on the old cemeteries he is working on. It is located at: http://baxtercountycemeteries.blogspot.com/. I urge you to visit this link & share it. Maybe, you could share this link & idea with you local sheriff's office.

The Old Talburt/Casey Cemetery is located at the corner of Cone & Crosswell in Mountain Home, Arkansas.

I also took a picture of the laminated place card placed by the wonderful team headed by retired Lt. Col. Lynn D. Baker. Lynn is the area coordinator for the Arkansas Gravestones Project. They have recently finished completing the project of photographing & documenting all 21,800 gravestones in Baxter County, Arkansas.
Lynn will also be speaking at our upcoming Arkansas Genealogy Roadshow.

Click this link to see the Arkansas Gravestones Project.

In in the following article, I have also placed the old pictures from the newspaper along with current pictures. All this is a tribute to the local people are preserving our Ozarks' History.

The Baxter Bulletin - April 4, 1974

Casey Cemetery holds history.

A segment of Mountain Home’s history almost obliterated by time is the old Casey (or Talburt) Cemetery, located in the east part of town adjacent to the Indian Creek subdivision.

The one-acre cemetery was once part of a farm whose owners included Dr. J. M. Casey, son-in-law of Major Jacob Wolf at Norfork and this area’s first white settler. The farm was purchased by Isaac Morris in 1919 and acquired by his son, Robin Morris, in 1934.

1969 Newspaper Picture of the unattended cemetery.

2011 Picture after Captain Jeff Lewis' Inmate Team
worked on the old Casey/Talburt Cemetery.
Outstanding Work.

The burial place of many members of the Talburt family, the cemetery also contains graves of others who were among this community’s earliest citizens. Dating back to the early 1800’s, it has not been used for a number of years and Robin Morris can recall only four persons being buried there since his family acquired the farm. The cemetery is overgrown with trees and brush throughout the older sections, and some tombstones have fallen, victims of time or vandalism. Many of the markers are uncarved field stones, offering no information about the people buried beneath them.

Among the stones with still legible legends is a broken one marking the grave of William and Elizabeth Hancock. It is believed that they were the parents of Robert M. Hancock, Baxter County’s second clerk and recorder.

Among the older headstones is in memory of “Levisa, wife of Robert McCrary,” who was born March 1, 1801, and died Sept. 6, 1865.


1969 Newspaper Picture of Levisa McCrary's Tombstone.

2011 Picture of
Levisa McCrary's Tombstone.

A stone which appears to be hand hewn and carved bears the following legend: “Here Rests Pulina H. Lyles, wife of A. T. Lyles and daughter of E. W. and Mrs. E. W. Brown, who was born and raised in Ware County, N. C. and departed this life Sept. 26, 1864.”

1969 Newspaper Article Picture
of Pulina H. Lyles' Tombstone.

2011 Picture of
Pulina H. Lyles' Tombstone.

Among the Talburts buried in the cemetery are Samuel T. Talburt, S. W. Talburt, Fanney Talburt, Mary J. and W. B. Talburt, Jennie Talburt and Edward M. Talburt. (The stones reflect the spelling followed by various members of the family.)

1969 Newspaper Picture of
Samuel T. Talburt's Tombstone.

2011 Picture of
Samuel T. Talburt's Tombstone.

A twisted oak sapling bows over the resting place of William Conditt (Feb. 10, 1839-July 31, 1908) who fought with Tarall’s Battery in the Confederate Army.

2011 Picture of
William Conditt's Tombstone.

Works Cited:

“Casey Cemetery Holds History.” The Baxter Bulletin 74.28 (4 Apr., 1974) B-1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 June, 2011.

Glorious Flaws, Cherished Faults & Beautiful Offenses

2011-06-24T17:10:00.005-05:00

I have had people ask me why I love researching history & genealogy so much. To answer that question, let me give an analogy concerning Dance of Marriage.

May I Have this Dance?

I have been married over 22 years. In this time, I have discovered that it is not a short dance, but it's a lifetime of rhythmic moves that affects future generations. This dance will encompass many seasons of change. All these must be done in unison. Many times the unseen conductor brings both partners into new varieties of music that have never been experienced or practiced before. This dance requires continual cooperation from both partners. Since we are human, there are obvious mistakes that will cause each partner to question their companion’s gracefulness in recovery and stamina in the marathon. In every flaw we see in our partner, we must see the glory that awaits them at the end of this season of their life or the end of their life’s journey. We must forgive the faults of each other that have entangled themselves into our character like briers and thistles. These faults can cause scars, not only to ourselves, but to their dance partner. Lastly, we must not harbor a laundry list of offenses, ridicule and disdain. But, we must be a continual cleansing tide of forgiveness who continually offers a hand up.

In all these things, we must mature in order to look back and glean a lifetime of lessons. There is no way I could have learned these intricate steps of the dance called “Marriage” without my wonderful dance partner, my wife.

Back to History

In the observation of history, whether it be local, regional, or world, we too must look at every flaw with the glorious expectation of what is still possible from the lessons we have observed. In every fault, we must see every scar of the past as a glorious marker in time in which tragedy leads to a new birth, awakening, or renaissance. In every offense, we must vow to release those whom we deem as unworthy, desperadoes, tyrants, or villains. In all these things, history reveals hidden objects and obsessions that were one concealed in many hearts of the past and our own. As we peer through these doors, we may open the skeletons in our closets and expose our own weakness. When we do, we will look back and glean a lifetime of lessons.

Whether it is the Ozarks’ History or some other account, may we all bow to our partner and learn the lessons of a life’s story that untimely affects us all.

History of Baxter County by 1891

2011-06-02T15:27:00.003-05:00

Working in local history, one can easily get trapped in having a narrow point of view. I have met some people who truly believed that many segments of the Ozarks in the past were remote & inbreed. Nevertheless, if the truth be known, no person, family, community, or county is exclusive unto itself…even in the Ozarks. I recently ran across an old newspaper no longer published in Baxter County, Arkansas, called the The Baxter County Citizen from July 16^th, 1891. The following is a transcript of a beautiful narrative that is not only about Baxter County history, but it was a testament from generations past and of a view of history that was treasured 120 years ago that is a part of our Ozarks’ History.

We, O. D. Dodd, A. J. Truman and Z. M. Horton, your committee on the History of Baxter County submit the following report as the result of our enquiry in the behalf:

Baxter County was created by the act of legislature of the state of Arkansas March 24th, 1873, from the territory taken from Marion, Searcy, Izard and Fulton counties.

William C. C. Claiborne

The counties from which Baxter was taken, were respectively, made from counties made from the territory of what was once Lawrence county, in Missouri territory, hence we may say Baxter county was once a part of Lawrence county formed by the act of Legislature of Missouri territory June 15, 1815, and of territory taken from New Madrid country, Missouri territory, being the 2^nd county formed, of the county names persevered in our state. Arkansas county was the first of the counties of the state that was organized. It was created Dec. 13, 1813, by the Legislature of Missouri territory, and compromised most of the present state of Arkansas, outside the territory formerly in Lawrence county. The territory from which these counties and state was formed was a part of what is known as the Louisiana purchase, a diplomatic deal, by which the U. S. for $15,000,000,000 received more territory than was ever before transferred from one nation to another. The Louisiana purchase was affected 1803. The Governor of Mississippi territory, William C. C. Claiborne, received the Louisiana territory, for the U. S. and was for a time governor of the providence of Louisiana, and consequently Governor of Arkansas, and Baxter county. So our first American governor was Governor Claiborne of Mississippi territory. From the territory which he received and over which he presided, as a province, or dependency of the state of Mississippi has been formed, the states of Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, North and South Dakota, Montana, Washington, Nebraska and Oregon, and parts of Kansas, Minnesota and Colorado, besides the Indian Territory and a large part of Wyoming and nearly 6000 square miles now in Mississippi and Alabama, hence we were once in the same country with all the states and territories just named, (think of it, Washington territory, now state, in the same county or province with Mountain Home).

In 1804 the territory of Louisiana was divided into two parts by a line running east to west on the 33^rd parallel of latitude north, (now the southern boundary of the state of Arkansas.) That part of territory south of the line, was named the district of Orleans, that north of it, the district of Louisiana.

From 1804 to 1812 the district of Louisiana was governed by the Governor of the Indian Territory, William Henry Harrison, afterwards President of the U. S. and grandfather to Benjamin Harrison, our present chief executive. (It is his hat we read so much in the newspapers). Hence we may truly claim, that the Governor of Arkansas and his grandson, have each been President of the U. S. So we are not as far behind some older states as might suppose.

Louisiana Territory

In 1812 Congress changed the name of Louisiana territory to territory of Missouri. Louisiana took its name from a line of French Kings, of the same Louis, reigning at the time the French took possession of and colonized the country. When it was changed to Missouri territory, June 4^th, 1812, Captain Clarke, of the famous Lewis and Clarke expedition was appointed Governor until 1819, another celebrated name, enrolled among our early Governors. In 1819 the territory was cut off from the southern part of Missouri territory, embracing the territory now known as Arkansas. The state was admitted into the Union in 1836. The first Governor or elected was James S. Conway.

The territory now embracing Baxter county was formerly occupied by Osage Indians. The lands were obtained by treaties in 1808 and 1818. Many of our pioneer settlers came here while forests were yet the lurking place of the savage. We have citizens in our county yet, who can remember when the north west portion of the state was occupied exclusively them, but owing to the limited time and space for this report, we have not the opportunity to enter into details of the aborigines, or the battle with the wilderness fought by our ancestors to reclaim our prosperous common wealth from a savage wilderness.

EARLY SETTLERS

The early settlers of this country were a hardy race of pioneers, who made their living at home and who, like the first inhabitants of many new countries, endured many hardships. They made their support by hunting and farming. They had no markets for produce, so a competence was all that was sought from the soil. The staple crops was furs and pelts. It was their principal source of revenue. There is a tradition among our people that furs and peltries was a legal tender for all debts between individuals, and was also receivable for taxes, but we regret that we have been unable to learn the price at which those commodities was current. Perhaps we may obtain authentic information on the subject by our next annual meeting. Had we all the names, space forbids anything like a complete list of all the pioneers of this county in this report.

But at the expense of brevity, we give the names of a number of them with some of their children and decedents in the county. It cannot fail to interest as all to review the names of those who felled the forests, and opened up our country, in many respects, the best and in many homes the happiest on the globe, for, is dated as we are, our country has many advantages not claimed by those more favored by development.

Among the names are the following:

Jacob Wolf, sr. father of Jesse H. Wolf, Mrs. Tobitha Russell, Miss Nan Wolf and Mrs. J. M. Casey.

Walter Talburt, sr., father of S. H. and Walter, James and Thomas Talburt, Mrs. Tony and Mrs. Hammonds – all citizens of the county present; Frederick and Bezel Talburt. These were all brothers.

John H. Beck, now living in the county.

Peter Adams.

Joseph Adams, father of J. T. Adams, of this township.

Robert Livingston, father of Robert F. Livingston, Mrs. Tom Gorton, Mrs. Charley Talburt and Mrs. Woods Blevins.

John Stone.

James Tracy.

Jesse Mooney, father of Clayton Mooney and numerous progeny whose names we did not obtain.

Isaac Trivitt.

John Hargraves, sr., father of Uncle Bob and W. P. Hargraves, and Fred Hargraves, and Sim Hargraves, late of Baxter County.

Fielding Herron, father of J. P. Herron.

Geo.Goodall, father of Mrs. Casey Livingston, Mrs. Geo. Foster and Mrs. Wyley Stinnett.

W. L. Shipp, father of Capt. Will C. John S. and Miss Amanda Shipp.

Joseph Webber was also a pioneer. The names of

James Cockrum.

Elisha Smothers.

Sidney Stratton.

Green Toney.

William Wesley.

Mart Green.

James Littlefield.

James James.

James Duggins.

John Painter.

David Jackson.

N. G. Tracy.

Rev. V. B. Tate.

R. W. Tate.

William Casinger.

T. B. Goforth.

Wiley Brewer.

Robert Carson.

Henry Lance.

John Fletcher.

Hiram Wells.

Denis Hawkins.

Noah Baker.

Perry Tucker.

Charles Finley, sr.

Dick Hutchinson.

William Rimm.

John Jinkins.

Joel Siner.

John McGee.

Stephen Norris.

Dr. Frizelle.

T. T. Travis.

Dale McCormick.

David Robertson.

Allen Bagwell.

Col. Morgan.

J. T. McCrackin.
Daniel Anglin.

There are a number of others we would like to name who are inseparably connected with our county’s history. They are among the names to which we will be led to the greatest generation, when we abstract titles to the lands of this county and when we search those names in ancient deeds, we will be reminded of those who reclaimed our country from the wilderness. Most of these lived here from fifty to sixty years ago.

Many of them were citizens of Arkansas Territory and some were here while it was yet a part of Missouri Territory or the District of Louisiana. Later came:

Col. O. L. Dodd

Col. R. D. Casey

Col. O. L. Dodd

Dr. Dodd.

T. Y. Casey.

Judge J. S. Russell.

Dr. J. M. Casey.

Dr, J. H. P. Wallis.

Prof. J. S. Howard.

Prof. A. J. Truman.

Hugh Calhoun.

And a number of others we could mention, who, though not Among the first settlers, were here before the late war, and assisted materially in the development of the county, and especially in establishing Mountain Home Academy, the first high school in the territory now in this and many adjoining counties.

That institution was built near the sight of the present academy. It was begun in the winter of 1858 and finished in 1859. T. B. Goforth, our present county surveyor, was the contractor. It was built by subscriptions, as few of our inhabitants then were. Prof. Howard was the first teacher. It had scholars from Batesville, Jacksonport and many other places and in the country for 100 mile around. It increased the value of real estate 300 to 400 percent, during the short time it was in existence before the war. It was destroyed by fire Dec. 12, 1864. It was rebuilt after the war, principally through the efforts of its former founders. Prof. Truman and Mrs. Truman et. al., conducted the school for many years, during which time it was only high school, in this section for many leagues around.

Time forbids that we should enter into details of the heroic effort of teachers and students in those days, when many young men and women were battling against odds for education, or to give a list of those now filling responsible stations in life, who were by their own efforts educated here, but hope some future meeting of the association, their names will be read, in the presence of the rising generation, together with a full history of Mountain Home school from the close of the war to the present, that the youth of to-day, hearing of and appreciating the self-denial, sacrifice and earnest effort of teachers and student of former times, may profit by their example.

Respectfully submitted.

Z. M. Horton,

Secy. Of Com on History.

Works Cited:

“Baxter County Citizen: Early History.” The Baxter Bulletin 8.28 (10 July, 1969) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010.

Louisiana Territory. Map. N.p.: n.p., n.d. By Made by User:Golbez. (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC-BY-2.5 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons.

Messick, Mary Ann, (1973). History of Baxter County: Centennial Edition 1873-1973. (44). Mountain Home Chamber of Commerce. International Graphics, Little Rock, AR.

William C. C. Claiborne, Governor of Louisiana. . N.p.: n.p., n.d. Wikimedia Commons. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_C._C._Claiborne.

George Washington Jones

2011-05-09T09:22:00.008-05:00

When looking for missing pieces of history, many times the evidence seems vague. A portion of a story may be all we have, while remnants elusively hide themselves until appointed times. To this portion, a seeker awaits patiently.

This is the case concerning George Washington Jones.

George W. Jones was born to Joseph Madison Jones and Rachel Walker Jones on February 17, 1823, in Overton County, Tennessee. Georges’ wife, Elizabeth Chadwick Jones, was also born in Tennessee on January 20, 1827. George & Elizabeth were married in Dade County, Georgia April 13, 1848.

George & Elizabeth came to Baxter County from Alabama in 1853 and settled on Big Creek, about three miles south of Mountain Home, Arkansas. George purchase 80 acres according to an U. S. Land Patent dated March 1, 1855 & 40 acres on December 10th, 1859.

George & Elizabeth had 5 children:

William Jones

G. A. F. Jones

A. John Jones

Thomas Jones

Lorena Jones – wife of J. B. Schoggen

During the Civil War, while George served in the Confederacy, his property was destroyed, his stock driven off, and his family was forced to move to Pineville, Izard County, Arkansas, for safety. After the War, however, he started anew on the same place, adding to his farm a groundhog threshing machine, horsepower cider mill and press. George also had a cotton gin and water mill on Big Creek.

This sentence about a water/grist mill was something my Granny Anderson would read about in Mary Ann Messick’s book, History of Baxter County: Centennial Edition 1873-1973. This was something that caught my attention years ago. But where exactly was this grist mill on Big Creek?

Then One Day…Tada!
A little over a year ago, a patron came into the library where I work at. He proceeded to tell me about this huge round stone by his house in Big Creek. The stone looked like it was round and flat with a steel band encompassing the exterior edge. Near the creek are traces of the spring that ran into the mill-run, which can be seen from the picture below.

Near the creek are traces of the spring that ran into the millrun.

Also, there is evidence of a dam that was once made in the creek.

The stone was finally pulled out of the creek.

Front & Profile view of the 4 foot mill stone that was pulled out of Big Creek.
Notice the steel band encompassing the stone.

Picture of the George Washington Jones Cabin; constructed after the Civil War around 1868. Pine logs for this cabin were hauled by oxen-drawn wagons from the Ozark National Forest, south of the White River. This picture was taken October 17th, 2009, at Baxter County History Day sponsored by the Baxter County Historical & Genealogical Society. The cabin has been relocated to Rapp’s Barren at Cooper Park in Mountain Home, Arkansas.

George W. Jones passed away at his home on January 25th, 1902, in Baxter County, Arkansas. Elizabeth Chadwick Jones passed away February 20th, 1908. They are both buried in the Oak Grove Cemetery alongside their son, A. John Jones (1861 - 1907).

Map to Oak Grove Cemetery

Oak Grove Cemetery in Baxter County, Arkansas.

Final resting place of George Washington Jones & Elizabeth Chadwick Jones.

Photos by Vera Reeves on Find A Grave.

Looking Back.

The one thing that has always struck me in the Jones Saga has been…Tenacity.

With property destroyed, stock driven off, and a family forced to move because of the War of Northern Aggression (sorry, I couldn’t resist), this family came back and built again. They didn’t quit.

As I look back at circumstances in my own life, I look at those who have gone on before me. When I look at these times tough pioneers, I feel so small. With all their faults, flaws, and prejudice, these people are my still heroes. They were not perfect, but their faith, word, and honesty could knock the bark off a tree. They knew their place with their neighbors. Shoot…they weren’t so self-centered that knew their neighbors; and in these times, neighbors were sometimes were a mile or two away.

So I ask you Dear Reader. If circumstances have over taken you, there are those who have walked many of those lonely paths.

If you happen to meet someone in desperate straits, try reaching out a helping hand. Whether you are from the Ozarks or not, I believe we have some of that same kind of Ozark spirit in us. We all need the compassion, faith, honesty, and integrity for others as we travel through this life. Then someday, others may tell of our journeys… as a part of our Ozarks’ History.

Works Cited:

George Washington Jones Cabin. Photo Retrieved May 2, 2011. http://www.baxtercountyhistory.org/PhotoAlbum.cfm?AlbumID=7241&PhotoID=83195.

Google Interactive Map and GPS Data: GPS Coordinates: Latitude: 36.29580, Longitude: -92.37000.

Helms, Jeff. “Big Creek Property & Millstone.” Retrieved May 2, 2011.

Jeff, Helms. Personal interview. 6 May 2011.

“Jones, George Washington.” U.S. Land Patent. Retrieved May 7, 2001. AR0540__.486 (3 Mar.,1855) www.glorecords.gov .

“Jones, George Washington.” U.S. Land Patent. Retrieved May 7, 2001. AR0690__.460 (12 Dec.,1859) www.glorecords.gov.

Maggie. “Jones, Elizabeth Chadwick.” Retrieved May 4, 2011. Find A Grave . http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=38792948

Messick, Mary Ann, (1973). History of Baxter County: Centennial Edition 1873-1973. (400). Mountain Home Chamber of Commerce. International Graphics, Little Rock, AR.

“Oak Grove Cemetery.” Photo taken by Annette Shaw. Retrieved May 4, 2011. Find A Grave.

“Oak Grove Cemetery Interments Named.” Find A Grave. Retrieved May 4, 2011. Maintained by Sheila Coy. http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=cr&GRid=38793260&CRid=55425&.

Reeves, Vera. “Jones, A. John.” Retrieved May 4, 2011. Find A Grave. http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=38793260.

Reeves, Vera. “Jones, George Washington.” Retrieved May 4, 2011. Find A Grave. http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=38792871.

A Great Pearl in Dry Times.

2011-04-25T11:01:00.004-05:00

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it. Matthew 13:45-46

Living in the Ozark’s can be a hard ordeal when families are trying to make a living. It can bring out the grit of those determined to settle its’ region. In 1907, there were meager rations when it came to rain; 1908 did no better. For those who planted crops, another venue of making money was the only alternative.

The answer: Pearl fishing in the White River.

Besides fishing for pearls in the waters of the White River, the shells were also collected and made into buttons at the button factory in Cotter, Arkansas.

I remember as a child, my Granny Anderson had an ornate tin containing buttons. Inside was a multi-colored array of small & large buttons. Fishing around in its’ contents, there were a few pearl buttons from the White River. In the summer, whenever other cousins were around Granny’s house, we would gather in a circle for a simple & fun game of bluff called, “Button, Button…Who’s Got the Button!” Discovering who had the button or where it was hidden brought squeals of joy & laughter. I don't know who all won in finding the button. Nevertheless, we all won in growing together as a family.

Today, many try to obtain a temporary prize, to only see it fade by the wayside. Yet, all the while, they have discarded other blessings that was once in their hands but never realized its’ value or potential.

I ask you Dear Reader. Look about your circumstances, and you too may find a discarded or hidden treasure of great price. It may seem that you are going through a great drought of your life or you are flooded by circumstances that you no longer able to control or understand. Just as it is in the above parable, a man had given all to obtain the prize; we must also evaluate what we are giving our all & lives for. Life is filled with many buttons & pearls. Just as the Ozark pioneers adapted to every hardship in order to survive, it was their faith in God that gave them stability & wisdom.

Below are a few articles that testify to the resourcefulness of those in our Ozarks’ History.

Pearl Fishing Has Begun on White River.

With the low waters the past two weeks, many have gone to their summer work of pearl fishing and some pretty good pearls have been found. It is doubtful whether this line of work will follow to the extent that it was last year in this county. Last year the drought and poor crops forced many to take up this occupation to make their living and many valuable finds were made. This year, crops are good, with but few exceptions. The largest sale made was reported this week from Norfork where Ed Plant, the depot agent at that place, bought four pearls, paying an aggregate of $132.50 for the four. The largest one brought $106.50.

A Big Pearl.

One of the largest pearls we ever run across taken from the rivers of this section we saw last week at Buffalo. It is owned by Col. Buie of that place and was taken from the White River. This pearl weighs 75 grains and is as big as a medium -size marble. It is almost round but it is rough and will have to be peeled before it goes to market. Buffalo is one of the pearl centers of this section as well as being one of the best zinc camps. C. E. Pond of Buffalo is also showing some fancy pieces in pearls. He is the principal buyer of that place.

Works Cited:

“A Big Pearl.” The Baxter Bulletin 8.20 (May 21, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010.

The Holy Bible: King James Version. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995.

Messick, Mary A. History of Baxter County: Centennial Edition 1873-1973. 110. Mountain Home, AR: Mountain Home Chamber of Commerce. International Graphics, Inc. Little Rock, AR, 1973.

“Pearl Fishing Has Begun on White River.” The Baxter Bulletin 8.30 (31 July, 1908) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010.

Ozark Grave Digging - A Grave to Your Past

2011-04-18T08:39:00.004-05:00

A couple times a week, I have people asking me for an easy way to find relatives that have died.

In genealogy, there are no guaranteed paths in that can be repeated every time because every situation is different. It appears using the U. S. Census seems to be the first & most popular method in beginning ancestral research, but many people seem to hit a brick wall.

Nevertheless, one possible solution may be only a click away. Again this is not a guarantee but a possible solution.

The answer: Find A Grave.

Find A Grave is a growing database that documents burial plots in cemeteries. This database can (but not always) provide:

Birth, Marriage & Death Dates
Places of Birth & of Death
Cemetery Pictures
Deceased Pictures
Tombstone Pictures
Obituaries
Links to Parents
Links to Spouse
Links to Children

Additionally, there is a link to someone who is maintaining the site. This person may or may not be a distant family member. I have taken the chance and emailed them. Sometimes they just maintain the page. Sometimes, I hit pay dirt; they are distant family that has information I needed to break down brick walls. Therefore, this database can provide links to other people in your extended family!

Here are a few of my pages I maintain. You can also click on the highlighted links.

Let’s check out my Anderson Ozark Family for an example. The following family members are all in the Mammoth Cemetery in Mammoth, Ozark County, Missouri.

The first page shot is my Grandfather Mack Anderson. His wife and my Grandmother, Eunice McNeil Anderson and their children are also highlighted.

The great advantages on this page are links to his parents, my Great Grandfather & Grandmother, Crawford Anderson & Dula Sims Anderson. I’ll click on Crawford Anderson.

One extra benefit to these pages sometimes are long lost pictures. For example, there are pictures of Crawford & Dula. From Crawford’s page there are links to my Great, Great Grandparents Garland Anderson & Louisiana “Lucy” Hawkins Anderson.

From Garland Andersons site, I can click on my Great, Great, Great Grandfather, William James “Short Billy” Anderson. Automatically, we are transported to the Anderson Cemetery outside of Gainesboro, Jackson County, Tennessee.

I have also added a flower/memorial to this site. I have clicked on these links. Many times I have clicked on these links and found family I didn’t know existed. From here I can click on my Great, Great, Great, Great Grandfather, Thomas Shirley Anderson.

In only 5 short clicks, I have discovered my Ozark Family were pioneers of Tennessee that came from Cumberland County, Virginia. This creates a beautiful trail for me to follow in researching my family tree.

This is only an example when genealogists are proactive and leave a good trail for future generations to follow. If you have not used Find A Grave, I challenge you to get involved. If you see corrections, pictures, or additions that need to be made, join the community and lend a hand.

Additionally, there is also another cemetery/gravestone source that is growing in Arkansas called the Arkansas Gravestones Project.

This is a group of volunteers who are aggressively focused on documenting every grave in Arkansas. If you have lost ancestors in Arkansas, this also might be an alternative, but it does not provide the links like Find A Grave.

This is only one facet in my family genealogy in creating the patchwork of our Ozarks’ History.

Older Than the Hills

2011-04-11T09:04:00.001-05:00

Tracing family genealogy
Writing down family tales & stories
Finding old homesteads & abandoned barns
Searching old documents & newspapers
Exploring forgotten tracks & hurts of the Civil War
Searching for past explorers & pioneers
Walking old wagon trails
Documenting the heritage of the American Indian nations & tribes
Looking at the beauty of the Ozark Hills

All these are small measures we use as benchmarks of time in the Ozarks.

Every Day View From My Old Home in Ozark County, Missouri. On T Highway.

My Old Home in Ozark County, Missouri. Lick Creek Below. On T Highway.

I love looking at the mountains & hills of this region and exploring the history we have tried to etch in its’ façade. Even in a world scarred by sin, disaster, and hurt, the beauty of the Creator’s handiwork shouts out. Though we might find evidence of times & ages past, these are but temporary indicators that sometimes fade in the Grand Annuals of History. Yet, there is One who still holds it all in His hand and weigh man’s faith & actions as grains of sand.

In looking at the grandeur of these Ozark Hills, the author of the following article, from 1904, eloquently expresses the stateliness of the Ozark Hills in comparison to other geographic features around the world.

I hope you enjoy a slice of our Ozarks’ History.

MISSOURI OLDEST OF ALL LAND

Palm of Antiquity Among Mountains

Given to the Ozarks.

Men are speaking- in wondering words of the beauty of Jura, of the grandeur of Everest, of the awe-inspiring canyons of the west, of the Andes and the Alps, but no man has ever looked upon a scene more incentive, to thought and profound meditative imagination than the rugged hills of the lower Ozarks.

He who climbs the Jura stands upon a peak 'of the modern world, but the man who stands upon the highlands of Ozark country: looks upon land so old that the brain becomes weary in attempting to measure its age, though measurement be made in epochs—not in thousands of years.

The Himalaya mountains have during some thousands or millions of years poured their deposits into that body of water which we know as the China sea, and by filling- the basin of that sea have deposited so much alluvium that the empire of China with its untold population, now occupies the space over which the water once flowed unrestrained.

Look at your maps and note how large the lowlands of China are; conjecture the depth of the alluvium in those lowlands and then comprehend, if you can, the ages, during which the Himalaya mountains have been busy filling up the basin of the sea and by wash of the tides and overflow of the rivers

building the land of China as we know it today.

The brain wearies of the effort. We are incapable of comprehending such almost infinite time, and yet we do know that the mountains of Asia are the youngest mountain ranges on earth, and that the lowlands of China belong to the last days.

If the Himalayas are the youngest the Ozarks are the oldest of all mountain ranges, and between the dates which gave them birth the Rocky mountains, the Appalachians, -the Apennines, the Alps, the Andes, the Nevadas, the Circassians, the Caucasus,- the great mountain ranges of Australia, and Africa had birth.

Yet these were not reared suddenly by some continent creating explosion, but slowly, surely, tenderly, as becomes a mother earth to develop her giant children.

Thus, by analysis, we arrive at the age of the Ozarks, yet fail to comprehend, for we cannot measure their ancient height or picture the stormy world.

We can dimly imagine a huge ball hung in space, rapidly revolving, enveloped, in clouds, the rain in ceaseless torrents descending and the wide ocean rolling free and unbroken, save where the Ozarks breasted the waves and turned the tide back upon itself.

Work Cited:
"Missouri Oldest of All Land." Boston Daily Globe 65.129 (08 May, 1904) 1. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2010 http://access.newspaperarchive.com/.

Gold in Ozark Hills

2011-04-04T09:02:00.000-05:00

It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter. Proverbs 25:2 (KJV)

I have always had an affinity for exploring caves & finding old mines in the Ozarks. I am always looking for what is hidden. There’s always something to be newly discovered in the next holler, over the ridge, or up the next creek. In the following article from 1893, explorers were searching for treasure while dealing with ghostly haunts.

This seems to be an old theme for people in the past...of our Ozarks’ History.

GOLD IN OZARK HILLS.
Interesting Traditions of Hidden
Treasure.
Ever Since White Men First Lived In
Missouri Intermittent Efforts Have
Been Made to Find -Wealth In a
Huge Cave Where Men Are Now at Work.

The traditions of the lost silver mines of Southwest Missouri seem to possess a charmed life. They cling to the Ozark Hills with wonderful tenacity. To hundreds of credulous seekers these stories of hidden wealth have been the most elusive will-o'-the-wisps, leading the eager followers of the "divining-rod" and the time-worn parchment "way-bill" over many miles of rugged country, only to vanish at last without disclosing the old secret whore the Spanish cavaliers loud the fabulous treasures of which every denizen of this mountainous region has hoard so much from the early settlers.

The first white men who came to this part of the State, after the Delaware Indians were induced to exchange their live hunting grounds on the slopes of the Ozarks for a reservation west of the Missouri border, heard these tales of the lost silver mines once worked by the Spaniards, and the rugged hunters from Tennessee, Kentucky and the Carolinas listened to the romantic legends of the Castilian knight and his subterranean treasures. That these pioneers would often leave, the track of the deer to explore some gulch or cave where the wealth might be concealed is not regarded by the Globe-Decorate as incredible. They believed the stories told them by the old men of the Delaware tribe. Since the flintlock rifle and the hunting knife began the conquest of Anglo-Saxon civilization iv the White River valley the search for the precious ore and the pots of coin which the Spaniards buried, "because they could not carry away all this wealth," has never been abandoned.

One mile east of Ozark is the Garrison cave, where six men are working hopefully in what they consider an old Spanish mine. They have leased the cave for a long period and expect to test the truthfulness of the Indian stories and the verity of that silent guide, "the divining rod," whose mysterious promptings led one adventurer fifty miles through the Ozark Mountains to this spot. Forty years ago this same cave was explored in search of the lost mine supposed to be near Ozark. James Garrison then owned the cave. One day an aged stranger came to the Garrison homestead, situated on the top of the hill just above the cave, and asked permission to hunt for the traditional treasure. The old man had strange-looking rod in his hand. For many miles, he said, this inanimate thing had pointed steadily in one direction. Following the guidance of the rod he had traveled over mountain and valley, day after day, till the cave was found. Here the magical guide indicated that the buried wealth was located. Beyond the cave the rod would not lead its possessor.

FOLLOWING THE "DIVINING ROD."

Garrison made the stranger promise to share with him the prize found before permission was granted to search the cave. Then the adventurer entered the cavern. The rod "worked" vigorously in the hands of the old man as he followed its leading into the depths of the gloomy subterranean chamber. At last the mystic staff indicated that the object bought was beneath the feet of the searcher. When taken beyond this point farther into the cave the rod pointed back toward the entrance. At the" mouth of the cavern it again inclined inward. From various points in the cave the rod was tried, and it invariably manifested the same tendency toward the first place indicated as the locality of the treasure.

Having ascertained, as he supposed, the hiding-place of fabulous wealth, the stranger began to clean out the cave, expecting soon to expose vast quantities of precious metal. But before a single Spanish relic was discovered the cave became a haunt of hideous terrors. Ghastly sounds, which no mortal ear could endure, filled the rocky chamber. The workmen fled from these phantom sounds in horror and refused to re-enter the haunted cavern. Thus the first search for the Spanish mine in the Garrison cave ended.

Long after the disappearance of the old man and his strange rod the younger members of the Garrison family resumed the exploration of the cave in quest of the treasure, but whenever they began to dig, the strange, unearthly sounds frightened them away. The workmen would rush out of the cave with their hair standing up on end when the ghastly noise was heard, says a man who now lives at the old Garrison place, near the precipice penetrated by the cavern. Again and again did brave and hardy men attempt to excavate the loose rock and earth in the haunted chamber, only to be driven out of the cave by the invisible terrors whose fiendish voices the stoutest heart could not endure. These awful sounds were described by some of the workmen as resembling the pounding of an empty barrel with a mallet. Others heard a metallic noise like the hammering of iron on an anvil. Sometimes the depths of the cavern would reverberate with sobs and wails too horrible for description. But whoever once heard these frightful voices of the phantom denizens of the subterranean darkness would never again attempt to wrest from the cave its supposed wealth. The Spanish treasure had no charm that could tune the ear of the miner to those goblin groans and sighs which accompanied each stroke of the pick and shovel whenever the work in the cave was resumed. But all the while the spell of mystery made the cavern and its gloomy surroundings objects of deep interest to all who knew of these strange stories. Now and then some veteran searcher after Spanish treasures would come to the Garrison settlement and listen to the tales that the older members of the family could tell about the cave and its ancient mine of silver known to the first white explorers of the Ozark region.

CLEAR EVIDENCE OF AN OLD MINE.

Five years ago three of the Garrison brothers, John, Absalom and Joseph, who had been away from the country since the war, returned to the old homestead and leased the cave for the purpose of mining. One of the men had been a miner in California for years, and knew much about the precious ores. He had been brought up near the cave and knew its romantic history from early childhood. He left the gold fields of the Pacific Coast and came all the way to the old Missouri homestead to try once more to find the silver treasure guarded by the ghostly tenants of the cave. Three other men joined the Garrison brothers in their enterprise and the work began.

In front of the cave was a vast heap of broken stone, mixed with earth, which bad been accumulating for ages. The miners began prospecting in this mass of loose material and dug several drifts through it, finding only some strange bones and a few specimens of ancient pottery. Dissatisfied with the results of their work in front of the cave, the miners decided to brave the legendary terrors of the interior and seek the hidden wealth within the goblin chamber that had never been thoroughly explored. They entered with lantern and pick, and began to remove the loose rocks that obstructed the passage of a small tunnel-like opening which leads off from the main chamber.

The tunnel has every appearance the miners thought, of an ancient drift. It was filled with boulders, ashes, charcoal, slag and bones of various animals. The ashes and charcoal, with now and then a chunk of scoria from some ancient forge, encouraged the miners in their search for lost treasure. There was no doubt about the reality of these evidences of an old mine, the workmen thought. The ashes seemed to have been packed into the cave as a means of stopping up the passage. All examiners decided that the cave had once been worked by miners, but no one could account for the immense quantity of ashes found. Tons and tons of ashes, mixed with charcoal, slag and bones, were taken out of the cave and still the supply was not exhausted. Bones of every animal indigenous to the Ozark region within the historic period, from the buffalo down to the mink, were found in great numbers. Then there were some strange remains of unknown quadrupeds. Bones that did not belong to any member of the bovine family were dug up. Bear teeth were numerous, and whole jaws of ursine monsters with tusks intact, the miners now and then dug out of the heap of ashes. Such quantities of bones the miners had never seen; and how did they get there mixed up with ashes, coal and cinder? This was a question which puzzled the workmen.

PLENTY OF BONES, BUT NO GOLD.

But the most ghastly discovery made by the miners was the unearthing of a human skeleton, found in the old drift surrounded by bear teeth and buffalo heads. The skull of the remains, so long entombed in the darkness of this ghastly cavern, was but little decayed, and the best medical authorities of Ozark decided that it belonged to some inferior race, judging horn the- receding forehead and the general contour of the cranium. The elder Garrison, who is conducting the mining operations, has a gruesome theory about the antecedents of this skeleton. He has made a special study of the lore relating to the silver mines of Southwest Missouri. He has talked with many old Indians who have traditions of the early days, when the Spanish, it is said, found caves of precious ore in the White River country, it was a practice among those daring adventurers, he says, when they left a mine to kill a man and bury his body over the treasure so that the ghost of the victim might guard the hidden wealth. This skeleton found in the cave, he chinks, may be the remains of an Indian slain by the cruel and avaricious Spaniards when they quit smelting the precious ore, leaving the spirit of the murdered savage to haunt the mine and frighten away other adventurers. This strange and uncanny story gives a stronger coloring to the tales about the ghostly sounds heard in the cave years ago. But the phantom guardian of the cavern and its secrets no longer disturbs the workmen in their search for ancient treasure. Only the echoes of the strokes of the pick and shovel are now heard in the cave as the work progresses. No goblin shriek protests against the removal of the human skeleton from its weird tomb.

The cave has been worked by the present company for nearly two years. Part of the time the men did not stop digging even on Sundays, and worked a night "shift," so ardent was their faith in the traditions about the Spanish mine within the cave. Never were sane miners more infatuated by the spell of legends than are those six men to-day who sift the ashes mid scrutinize the slag taken out of the Garrison cave. They have found some ore resembling a low-grade of zinc, but nothing more valuable. The miners think this metal points to a silver lead near at hand. They expect to find not only the native ore in great quantities, but think the cave contains an ancient forge where the successors of De Soto and Police de Leon coined bushels of Spanish dollars three centuries ago.

Ignoring the extravagant dreams about the Spanish treasure, this cave has much interest for the antiquarian and scientist. What produced such vast quantities of wood ashes as the miners are finding? How did the ashes get into the cave at such a distance from the entrance? How did so many bones get mixed up with the ashes and charcoal? How was the ore smelted there?

Work Cited:

“Gold in Ozark Hills.” Sacramento Daily Record-Union 85.13 (8 Mar., 1893) 4. Chronicling America. The Library of Congress, Washington, D. C. 11 Jan. 2011. www.chroniclingamerica.loc.gov.

Ozark Juice-Harp

2011-03-28T09:02:00.005-05:00

I remember one of my first musical instruments while growing up in the Ozarks.

When I was about 7 years old, and my family and I went to West Plains, Missouri, for a day. While there, we stopped by the West Plains Music Store. As my dad was looking over a selection of harmonicas, an older gentleman behind the counter spied me looking though a glass case. Peering over his glasses, he made a sales pitch by stating that I needed to start my musical career with an instrument I could master quickly. His answer…a “Juice-harp.”

I was quickly sold on the idea, and my dad made the purchase. I popped and twanged that twisted piece of lead all the way home. In my mind, I could play any song. It took a little skill in arching my mouth the right way or to keep from pinching my lips.

It was a few years later till I found out it was really called a “Jew’s-harp.” You see, I reasoned in my mind, that since it was played by opening my mouth in different positions, it was an instrument that could be easily covered with spit. Hence, I called it a “Juice-harp.” It just made sense. In Ozark twang & vernacular, “Jew’s-harp” & “Juice-harp” sounds pretty close to being the same word.

To this day…I still think the music store man called it a “Juice-harp.”

In the following article, there is a wonderfully example of Ozark twang & dialect. I have transcribed the article exactly…word for word & letter for letter. I hope you have fun translating the 5^th paragraph... as it is a part of our Ozarks’ History.

HAD IT DOWN FINE.

The sun had just broken over the tops of the Ozarks one warm morning in summer. The mist that always settles thickly over these half mountains with the night all, was going to pieces and disappearing as the sun rose higher, leaving the green and dense verdure heavy and wet with the dew. In a cosy nook, on a log, overhanging the wild little stream that dashed down from a gushing spring above, a native was seated, earnestly playing a jewsharp. He twanged the vibrant metal with his thumb, keeping time by splashing one of his bare feet in the clear water below. After ten minutes, during which time the sun bad got high enough to shine straight in his eyes, he took the harp from his month and, wiping it on the leg of his trousers, exclaimed: "Thar! Ef thet don' settl'r, whut will? "

Before he had spoken another word a stranger stepped from behind a big tree and addressed him: "That was the best tune I ever heard on one of those instruments."

The mountaineer looked at the stranger a moment and then, drawing himself up in a knot on the log, said: "Dye mean it, mister?"

"Mean it? Of course. "Why do you ask?"

"It's lak this, mister. Yer see, I hev be'n jest on the aige o' jinin' th' Simpson gal, over 'n th' holler, fer more'n er yar, an' when th' poppin' time kem, she up an' says thet I kain't hev 'er 'less I kin play thcr jews'a'p. I bin practicin' hyar on this log ier nigh a month now, I reckon, ev'ry day in th' mornin' 'ore sunup, an' I wuz thinki n' es I sot hyar, ez ei I didn't git th' bang o' it purty soon, it'd be gooilby, Sal. But yer made me feel better, stranger, an' ef yer roun' these parts nex' week, jes drop over on ther slope, 'crost th' way, an' ye kin be my best man."

As the stranger moved on down the path, the mountaineer struck up his tune again and played with a vim that was evidence that the stranger had been telling the truth. Along with the fiddle, the jewsharp still ranks high as a musical instrument (in the mountain region of Arkansas and Missouri. A native who can't play the jewsharp is looked upon as having very poor prospects.

Work Cited:

“Our Short Stories: Wooing a Maiden of the Ozarks With the Jewsharp's Notes. “ Pittsburg Dispatch 45.205 (31 Aug., 1890) 14. Chronicling America. The Library of Congress, Washington, D. C. 11 Jan. 2008 http://www.chroniclingamerica.loc.gov.

Sweet Youth, Hot Lead, and Bitter Revenge - Part 4

2011-03-21T10:51:00.001-05:00

In uncovering old stories and writing a history blog, I sometimes come across people & stories that I can hardly let go of. When I look at a map, drive through a certain area, or scurry through a local grave yard, I still keep looking for more clues. I know there’s got to be more information somewhere. There’s still has to be one more living link. This is the situation concerning a blog I wrote in 2009 called, Sweet Youth, Hot Lead, and Bitter Revenge - Part 1, 2 &3.

I have been trying lately to find the graves of the people of this story. One problem I have been running into is graves that are marked with old creek stones.

No Name.

No Date.

No Easy Clues.

I have an idea on some markers, but not the confirmation I need...yet.

I have held on to this 4^th part of the story for the past few months in the hope of finding some breakthrough. Nevertheless, I am posting it to add another part of the story followed in national newspapers about the love, feud, and murder in Gainesville, Missouri. Though this part of the story has a sad ending, I am sure there will be more pieces of the puzzle to follow in our Ozarks’ History.

END OF AN OZARK MAN-KILLER.

Some Think He Was Foully Murdered.

Others That He Died by Accident.

Hod Miles

Gainesville. Mo., Nov. 2. -- The career of Hod Miles, of whose adventures in the Ozark Mountain region THE SUN has told the story in part, is ended. The reader who remembers anything about the man will be sorry to learn that he is dead. Hod Miles was a Massachusetts boy who came here nearly ten years ago and finding the land cheap and fertile and the climate to his taste bought a quarter section of land, and settled down to make a home. He was somewhat surprised to find that a shooting iron was among the necessities of life here, but he took kindly to Ozark ways, and was soon counted one of the finest young men of the country. He became a crack shot with pistol and rifle- -a crack shot in this country, where a greater proportion of accurate marksmen be found among the citizens than in any other region of the country, unless it be in southern Texas. As they say here, Hod sized up the range and lowed to cover it, but in his own way. Here every native uses either a repeating rifle or a navy revolver. Hod Miles always carried a target pistol of the smallest caliber. That would have made him an object of ridicule but for one fact He never missed his target. Squirrels in the tallest oaks, ducks on White River, and turkeys on the far side of a corn patch dropped when his pistol cracked, and they were always shot through the head. He had even dropped a quail in midair as it flew away from him.

Of course he was popular. Moreover, he could play the fiddle and dance and lead in a frolic, and in spite of Yankee thrift, was generous toward his neighbors. There was but one way in which such a man could get into trouble here, and Hod eventually found that way.

The Ozark Mountains are full of the handsomest kind of girls-bright-eyed, strong-limbed girls, who despise a coward, hate a mean man, and worship the one who is brave, dashing, and generous. THE SUN has told how Hod by paying attention to one of the handsomest of these lassies, excited the jealousy of a friend of his named Dan Gibson. Dan undertook the job of running Hod out of the country, but the two did not meet until one night after the girl refused to go to a dance with Dan and did go with Hod. Hod had learned that the girl was worth fighting for and by chance found himself facing Dan on the ballroom floor with no one else in range. Because Hod's target pistol weighed much less than Davis's navy revolver it was aimed a fraction of a second quicker, and Dan fell dead with tinny pellet of lead in his brain before his revolver was much, more than clear of its holster.

Dan left three brothers, who took up the feud and one after another died in attempting to avenge Dan's taking off. Two were commonplace killings, commonplace for this country. Each met Hod in Gainesville, each started to drawl his revolver at sight of the enemy, and each was too slow. The third lost his life in somewhat unusual fashion.

Hod had married the girl, and lived for three years on his farm unmolested. His wife, in spite of the care of a big boy baby, had grown handsomer as she grew older, and the proudest man in the country was Hod Miles. But one day he drove to Gainesville without his pistols; he had lived in peace so long that he forgot about them. While trading in Davidson’s store in walked the last of the Gibson boys looking for blood. For an insulting remark Hod knocked him senseless, and he was carried from the store. He soon regained his wits, however, and going to the further side of Hod's team, drew his revolver, cocked , and rested it on his left arm just above the backs of the horses. The team stood at the right of the store door as one walked out. If Hod was to shoot right handed he would have to expose all his body before he could get his pistol clear of the door.

Hod Miles was in a desperate strait. Gibson had taken such an advantage as made though event of to fight (for Hod would fight, of course) almost certain. Nevertheless this Massachusetts Yankee went on looking over the goods he wanted to buy with never a tremor that anyone could see. Then, when all was done, he located Gibson by a quick glance from the door, borrowed a revolver from the storekeeper, took it in his left hand, stepped once more to the door, and dropping the muzzle just beyond the door frame shot Gibson through the brain. It was done so quickly that Gibson probably did not see or know that Miles ever came near the door.

Then an uncle of the Gibson boys was run out of an Arkansas county for selling moonshine whiskey, the county having become one of the drys, and for some reason he and his son came here and took up the feud. While in Gainesville one day the young man, who was drunk, fired at Hod, but missed him. The whiskey had unnerved him somewhat, but Hod's reputation as a cool man killer probably had something to do with it. Of course Hod shot him dead in return. He could have killed the father as well, but instead of doing so arrested and disarmed him. When the old man had sobered up in jail Hod went to him for a talk on the subject of the feud, the result. of the talk being that Hod paid the old man's fare to Denver, Col., and sent him away.

Until the spring of 1892 Hod Miles and his family lived utmost an ideal farmer's life. Their home was comfortable, they were the most prosperous people in the section, and they were admired and respected by everybody. The killings did not worry them. They were, in fact, thoroughly well content with their lot. But on an unfortunate day while Mrs. Miles was riding along the road from a neighbor's house a deer jumped from the brush and ran across the road. The horse was frightened, and whirled around so expertly and quickly that Mrs. Miles was thrown to the ground. She was so badly hurt that she died next day.

The death of Mrs. Miles simply ruined her husband. The child, now a tiny boy in kinckererknockers, was given to the wife's mother, and the farm and its outfit of tools and stock were sold. Inside of a month Hod was staggering about Gainesville whooping drunk, and no more dangerous man than he ever got drunk in the Ozarks. That he did not murder any one was due solely to the fact that everybody let him have his own way. No argument of his friends availed to reform him.

Finally Bartlett Gibson, who had gone to Colorado at Hod's expense, returned. He was a hard man, and a drunkard, and it was reasonable to suppose that if the two met when in liquor they would light. Hod laughed when his friends said he was in danger of Bartlett Gibson's wrath, and said that Gibson would not dare to face him, drunk or sober. In this he seems to have been right, for the two did not meet, so far as anyone knows. All that any one does know is that him in the afternoon of Saturday a week ago Hod Miles staggered out of town afoot on the road toward the home of his father-in-law. Three days later his body was found in a ravine a short distance from the road. His forehead lay on a bloody stone and his skull had had fractured – probably by his falling on the stone. Still the wound on the forehead was a long one, just the wound a stiff club would have made, while the rock had a rugged knot that should have made an incised wound, unless the man's head gave it a glancing blow.

Meantime Bartlett Gibson, who was in town on the last day that Hod Miles was here, has not been seen or heard of since nightfall of that day.

Work Cited:

“End of an Ozark Man-Killer.” The Sun 60.7 (6 Nov., 1892) 8. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 3 Nov. 2010.

Ozark Sasquatch - Part 2

2011-03-14T08:58:00.004-05:00

Thanks to all the emails last week concerning our own Ozark Sasquatch called the "Blue Man." If that phrase sounds confusing, please go back to the first post called, Ozark Sasquatch - Part 1 . These next few articles should wrap up last reports of Bigfoot in the Ozarks...until...we stumble upon his grandchildren.

In anticipation of that next exciting moment, we will hopefully discover another interesting coincidence in our Ozarks' History.

Legend of "Blue Man"

Told Again in Ozarks.

Ava, Mo.—With renewed reports of depredations by panthers and other animals In the wilds of the Ozark mountains, the older residents of Douglas county are recalling the legend of the "Blue Man of Spring Creek."

This is one of the many legends of the Ozark country, and the pioneer residents declare that it is true. It deals with a huge, manlike creature, more than nine feet high, of a purple color, which Is said to have terrorized the countryside nearly sixty years ago. Many of the old residents have declared they saw the creature, and one man asserts he had a hair-raining encounter with it.

End of Article

"BLUE MAN" OF THE OZARKS.

Is Seen Again by Missouri Woodsmen.

Willow Springs, Mo.—The periodical reappearance of the "Blue Man of Spring Creek" was reported by tie haulers who reached this city from Douglas county. The supposed "wild man" has not been seen at his old haunts since 1911 until about six weeks ago, when O. C. Collins, while searching for two lambs, got a glimpse of the man while he was attempting to capture a hog.

Since then other persons have seen the "blue man," according to word brought in by the tie haulers. Jay Taber saw him a few days ago, but he ran up the mountainside. Taber told his neighbors that the man's hair is now white, but that he is still powerful looking.

End of Article

Work Cited:

“Blue Man” Of Ozarks.” New Castle News 35.304 (4 Aug., 1915) 7. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 3 Feb. 2011.

“Blue Man” Of Ozarks.” The Star and Sentinel 2.95 (26 Aug., 1915) 4. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 3 Feb. 2011.

“Legend of ‘Blue Man’ Told Again in Ozarks.” The Republican Press 58.260 (20 Feb., 1925) 7. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 3 Feb. 2011.

“Legend of "Blue Man" Told Again in Ozarks.” Clearfield Progress 19.32 (3 Mar., 1925) 1. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 3 Feb. 2011.

Ozark Sasquatch - Part 1

2011-03-07T08:03:00.005-06:00

Many times as a young boy, I would hunt & trap the Ozarks hills in search of the perfect deer, coon skin, or prized fox pelt. To do this, it was required to be up before the sun’s rays glimmered over the horizon. Holding my flashlight firmly in my hand, I would walk with purpose…focused on the prize. Every so often, I could feel as if someone or something was watching me. At times I could hear footsteps mimic my own. Quickly stopping, with the hair cackled on the back of my neck, goose-bumps down my arms, and adrenalin causing my heart beat loud enough to hear my own pulse, I would grip my rifle and utter a quick prayer. I knew what it was…the elusive Ozark Sasquatch!

Of course, this was the late 1970’s. I had read the latest magazine issue that covered the most recent sightings of Aliens or Big Foot. I had seen the footage on TV. I was also a big fan of the Incredible Hulk, and I knew what radiation could do to any creature. All this was convincing evidence to a 12 year old boy.

Though I never saw Big Foot or discovered the tracks of the Ozark Sasquatch, I knew they were intelligent enough to cover their tracks. I just needed the obscure evidence.

Finally, after all these years, I have exposed the documentation that confirmed my childhood speculations. Apparently, according to the following story, there had been generations of these savage beasts. I now believe I had come close many times to making an “Ozark Historical Discovery” that would put me in the Genius Book of World Records.

Though it has not happened...yet, there is still time.

I hope you enjoy reading this fascinating account & history of our own Ozark Sasquatch called the "Blue Man." All this should make Ozarks’ History a hair-raising event.

"BLUE MAN" RETURNS

TO HIS OZARK HAUNTS

Searching Parties in Missouri

Unsuccessfully Trail Wild

Creature.

SPRINGFIELD. Mo. July 7.—News comes to this city that after an absence of four years the mysterious "Blue Man of Spring Creek" has again appeared in his old haunts and is causing great excitement in the wild and hilly country along the Big North Fork, Indian, and Spring creeks, in the eastern end of Douglas county.

It was in the beginning of 1865 that noted Ozark rifleman and trapper, “Blue Sol” Collins, came across strange tracks in the snow along Spring Creek. He had trailed many a bear, and these trucks resembled a bear's, but this bear must surely be the largest bear in all Missouri. The imprints in the snow were longer and broader than any bear tracks Collins had seen, and along the tracks were queer markings, seemingly made by great claws.

Collins was fearless and followed the footprints, determined to slap the greatest bear in the history of the region. Hour after hour he followed the trail. He was tolling up the slope of Twin mountain when he heard a noise on the hill above him. Looking up, he was just in time to leap to one side as a huge bowlder swept past him down into the valley. Another and then another bowlder swiftly followed. When Collins had time to look closely and see what was causing the avalanche of rocks he was terrified.

Saw Gigantic Figure.

On the steep hillside above him stood a gigantic figure. An enormous man, stark naked except for a breech cloth and a shoulder piece of some animal's skin. The huge body was covered with long hair almost black in color, and as thick as that of any wild animal. On the man's feet were rude moccasins of deerskin tied with thongs of leather. The ends of these thongs had made the claw like marks in the snow.

The terrifying figure was armed with a club six or eight feet long. This he had laid aside in order that he might more readily tear the bowlders from the frozen soil. Collins was no coward, but he never denied that after one look at that fearsome figure on the hill he turned and fled.

The Ozarks were a thinly settled region fifty years ago, but several of the scattered families among the hills missed calves, sheep and hogs, and after long search found discarded hides and clean picked bones in remote crannies among the hills. Some of them, too, saw the fearsome figure slipping among the woods.

After 1865 the "wild man" disappeared and became no more than a tradition in the remote region. In 1874 he reappeared, was seen by probably a score of men, and was systematically tracked by men skilled in trailing wild animals. But all efforts to capture him were in vain.

During the next sixteen years the "Blue Man ' made several trips to his original haunts and on each trip the farmers lost some of their smaller animals. Every incursion was marked by energetic efforts to capture the strange creature now universally known as the "Blue Man of Spring Creek." Why "Blue" no one knows unless the name was given because it was "Blue Sol" Collins, who first saw him.

In 1890 It was rumored a party of searchers had the quarry so long sought, but this proved false. Evidently, however, they made it too hot for the "Wild Man," for again he disappeared. It was not until 1911 that he again appeared. This time his den was found, but he disappeared.

Not So Fat Nowadays

Six weeks ago and farmer noticed two of his lamps did not come home with the rest of the flock. He searched the hills and at lost found their bloody pelts in a hollow in a remote part of the woods. The next day he saw the "Blue Man" running down a hog in the woods and since then several other farmers have seen the creature. The wild man is said to be less robust than formerly. His blue-black coat of hair now is iron gray and his limbs are not as well muscled as formerly. Nevertheless, it may be safely wagered that there is not a man among the sturdy Ozark mountaineers who would like to risk combat single-handed with the fearsome creature.

Before the Revolution, while this region was yet under the flag of France. It is said that a French Indian trader came into the Ozarks, bringing with him a beautiful Spanish woman, a native of Florida. In the region the trader abandoned the woman or sold her to the Indians. From this poor outcast descended a race of Indian-Spanish half breeds. One of these in the third or fourth generation may be the "Blue Man of Spring Creek." This was the theory of "Uncle Jerry" who settled in what is now Douglas county in 1820, and lived there until 1885.

In the course of nature the "Blue Man" cannot be expected to live much longer. Whether he ever will be caught or whether the secret of his long absences and mysterious returns will ever be solved is doubtful.

Work Cited:

“Blue Man Returns to His Ozark Haunts.” The Washington Times 8590 (9 July, 1915) 9. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 3 Feb. 2011.

“Famous ‘Blue Man’ of the Ozarks Harries Country.” Moberly Weekly Monitor 44.38 (10 Aug. 10, 1915) 5. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 3 Feb. 2011.

Ruins of Early Smelters

2011-02-27T14:23:00.002-06:00

Finding & exploring old mining claims in the Ozarks seems to be one of my favorite things to do. ( The second is going to old cemeteries.) In the following article from 1907, the ruins of of smelters comes to topic. This old article reminds me of a past excursion from last year's adventure & blog in discovering the same thing. That blog can be found at Bruce Creek Excursion..

In addition, I will also re-post the map from the early 1800's showing the Ozarks' Region of American Indian Tribes. Double Click on the map to enlarge it.

I hope you enjoy finding your own treasures in our Ozarks' History.

RUINS OF EARLY SMELTERS.

Relics of Unknown Explorers in the Cherokee Hills.

In the hills of the Cherokee nation are found the ruins of several crude and primitive smelters that undoubtedly were used by the early Spanish explorers in this country, says the Kansas City Star. The presence of these old ruins are taken by many as proof that there are valuable minerals in these hills and that the Spaniards found and mined them.

According to the best historical authority and according to Indian legends, the Spanish explorers made periodical visits to the Indian country, coming usually from the southeast. Marking the line of their operations are these old smelter ruins that stretch from the Ozark regions of northern Kansas, embracing half a dozen counties, most of the ruins being found in the White River country.

There can now be found among the Cherokee who live in the hills pieces of melted slag out of these ruins. From one of these primitive furnaces there was also washed out on the banks of the Illinois river a silver coin that bears the date of 1618. Not far from the same spot is a Spanish monument and cross erected by explorers long before present Indians inhabited this region.

The fact that old smelters are found in a region which in later years has been shown to contain large deposits of lead and zinc might be taken as evidence that they were erected for the purpose of reducing these minerals, and that the Spanish took large quantities of both minerals out, but many believe that the Spaniards also found silver and gold and coined them.

Works Cited:

"The Ozark Plateau." Map. Point Lookout, Missouri: School of the Ozarks Press, 1970.
Annotation: Map located inside of front cover of book entitled: Indians of the Ozark Plateau by Elmo Ingenthron. Full plate title: Map of the Ozark Plateau Showing Principle Streams, Indian Territorial Areas, Treaty-Fixed Boundaries, Migration Routes, Early Roads and Settlements. Color enhancements added by Vincent S. Anderson.

" Ruins of Early Smelters." New State Tribune. Muskogee, Oklahoma.13.44 (22 August, 1907) 1. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 2 Nov. 2010.

Hog Stealing & Hard Times

2011-02-21T15:46:00.000-06:00

Hard Times & Judging Others

It seems lately I am meeting more homeless people passing through the Ozarks. Hearing their stories breaks my heart; and for some reason, I can see myself in them. They are people...just like you or me. They are sheep who have lost their families,veterans without a platoon, and hurt children wrapped in a 45 year old bodies. They may not dress, smell, or look exactly like me; yet, I see myself in them and thank the Lord in Heaven for his many blessings. I have also noticed when homeless talk about themselves, they have given up hope & plans for the future; they live from day to day just to survive. Some have given up hope on ever connecting back with family. This is the one thing that puzzles & scares me. Ozark families are usually cohesive & look out for each other.

Hard times have been experienced in the Ozarks by many. It is easy to make snap judgments and castigate the outcast. Many times we do things that are regretted and say words that will knock the bark off a tree. Redeeming the words & deeds of the past is like fetching a bucket of water that has been slung to the ground...a loosing battle.

Over the years in writing about Ozarks' History, it is impossible and unfair to write only about good times. People face challenging odds. Some excel, others struggle, and a few crash and burn. In the following article from 1911, there is a connection to all my rambling...in my mind. We find a man from the Ozarks that seems to have a stream of bad circumstances. It looks like things were going to turn around for him. Nevertheless, he adds insult to his shame. Though I am not excusing or standing up for his crime, it does remind me of other stories from that era when people did whatever to provide for their family.

As we all walk through the crucible of life and discover others misfortune, let us not wholeheartedly reject those who have fallen on Hard Times in our Ozarks' History.

¹Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.
²Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of the Christ.
³For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself.
Galatians 6:1-3 (KJV)

HOG STEALING COST 27 YEARS

Missouri Murderer Who Was Paroled

Goes Back to Prison.

Jefferson City, Mo., Sept. 11.—Because he violated the terms of a parole Issued in his behalf by Governor Folk In March, 1907, W. K. Risley of Ozark county will have to serve about twenty-seven years in the penitentiary. He was convicted in Ozark county in 1895 of murder and was sentenced for forty years.

After serving about twelve years he was released. He returned to Ozark county and for a time his conduct was good. Later he moved to Marion county, Arkansas, where he recently completed a jail sentence for stealing hogs. Learning he was under parole the Arkansas officials returned him to Ozark county under arrest.

J. T. Lewis, prosecuting attorney of Ozark county, filed an official complaint with Governor Hadley, and the governor revoked the parole and directed that Risley be returned to the penitentiary to complete his sentence.

Work Cited:
Blue Letter Bible. "Paul's Epistle - Galatians 6 - (NKJV - New King James Version)." Blue Letter Bible. 1996-2011. 17 Feb 2011. < http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Gal&c=6&t=NKJV >

“Hog Stealing Costs 27 Years.” Vindicator And Republican, Estherville, Iowa . 43.37 (13 Sept, 1911) 7. Access Newspaper Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 2 Nov. 2010.

Lovers of the Ozarks - Part 2

2011-02-13T16:26:00.001-06:00

Bellings & Shivarees

A Belling or Shivaree was a common practice throughout the Ozarks in the rights of a newlywed couple to endure. It was to the good pleasure of the married folk to play practical jokes & indulge nonsense on the newly initiated. Sometimes it went a bit too far. A couple may come in their home and find all the furniture turned upside-down, the firewood scattered over the yard, or a noisy serenade of cowbells & frying pans.

For my family, many times, the jokes did not slow down after a shivaree. I remember old stories that were reminisced at family gatherings about my Great Uncle Jimmy Anderson. He never let an opportunity slip by without playing a joke on some family member...even after the wedding had ended...years before. One time he found my Grandpa & Granny Anderson were away from home. The doors were unlocked; actually, nobody locked their doors. He strewed firewood all over the yard and flipped the furniture upside-down. My grandparents came home and cleaned up the mess without saying a word or complaining to anyone. Grandpa Mack knew who did it but acted like nothing happened, and this all the more grated on Uncle Jimmy. Nevertheless, it payday was coming. One evening Grandpa Mack had two of his boys, Berman & Jerel Anderson, sneak over to Uncle Jimmy's house when he wasn't home. They climbed up on the rooftop of the house and stuffed a wet tow-sack into the stove pipe. They also put Uncle Jimmy's false teeth in the flour bin. Later that evening, Uncle Jimmy came home and started a fire in his potbellied stove and smoke filled the place. Nothing had to be said between the two, and a truce was drawn between the brothers.

I hope to use this story helps to set in context for the conclusion of the article below. We will hear about a newlywed couple in Gainesville, Missouri, that endured a "Belling" or "Shivaree." Sometimes, tomfoolery & shenanigans make up a part of our...Ozarks' History.

I hope you enjoy the conclusion of -

" Lovers of the Ozarks - Part 2"

It is said that one-third of the Taney lovers have to fly to Arkansas to marry. On the other hand, Arkansas lovers come north into Missouri. Squire Linzy issues warrants and marriage certificates with impartial hand. Justice Jones of Forsyth, however, has a greater runoff custom, from the fact that the lovers needs come or send to Forsyth for a license. A marriage a week is about the average.

In spite of the fact that marriages are common, there is enough rowdyism about Forsyth young men to make them give every couple “a belling” that stays over night. The belling is generally short and noisy. The boys fire revolvers and beat tin pans and devices. The groom comes out and says he is sorry, and trys for enough cheap cigars to go around, but sometimes the groom is stubborn. Charley Blood and Al Baldwin, two commercial travelers from Springfield, fell in with such a groom once, only it was over in Gainesville, in Ozark county, another border county.

The young man was from Arkansas, of course, and he vowed he would die or kill somebody before he would be compelled to say he was sorry, even if the expression didn’t mean anything. He’d smelled powder and heard the bullets whistle as he fled with his sweetheart. That is not an unusual condition of affairs in this country, but it made an impression on him that determined him to resist the “bellers.” He stood the racket bravely. The upper half of the window of his room at the hotel was shot out, the pieces of glass was covering the bed completely. The powered glass was mixed with powered plaster a-plenty. The boys got a ladder and proposed to charge up mat and drag the young man out. He shouted, when he heard the ladder, that they’d better not try to break in, for it would be lawful to shoot them, and he’d do it. So they abandoned that. Finally at about midnight the racket ceased for a short time. The hosts were in consultation. They had hit upon a plan. One of the boys went to the store and got half a pound of red pepper, another got an auger, and, going into the loft over the young man’s room, bored a hole through the flooring, laid there, and poured the pepper through that hole and down through the bullet holes in that plastering into time room, That fetched the groom and his bride both. He gave it up, and said he was sorry, and treated the crowd, like a man, to two cigars each, instead of one. They were so tickled over their success that they bought the best cradle the town afforded next morning, and, filling it with fixings for housekeeping, gave them to the young couple with the usual speech making in which the heart of the Missourian delights.

There are all sorts of girls in the Ozarks, just as there are in other regions, but there are more attractive ones here in proportion to the number of people than in most regions. As compared with time mountains of West Virginia and eastern Kentucky, for instance, time Ozarks are away ahead. It is a different people here, anyhow. Along the Big Sandy the men shoot each other from time brush: here they jump “out into the clear” in some way, and although the quickest man lives, the man who dies has had sort of chance for his life. The quick fellow’s pistol might have failed to work, for instance. Naturally daughters of men who scorn to take a mean advantage have somewhat of the characters of their fathers, and their characters show in their faces.

The climate does much for them also, and there is an air of robust health, due to open-air-mountain life, that compensates for any lack of knowledge of social requirements. They are not only handsome and well formed, but they are vivacious and affectionate. They have a frankness of speech that though somewhat likely to be misunderstood by a stranger a first, is nevertheless one of the characteristics that make them charming.

AN OZARK BEAUTY.

There are, however drawbacks to a courtship when carried on by a stranger. Among these are the differences in language. A New Yorker, for instance, on coming here and talking to a young lady, would be very apt to say, “I beg pardon,” if he failed to hear something that she had said. That would be a “stunner” for the Ozark girl, as she would say. She could not comprehend an apology when no offense had been committed, so far as she knew. If she failed to understand something which he said, she would say inquiringly: “Huh?” That might be a stunner to the Now Yorker. If after n proper acquaintance, he should foolishly ask for instead of taking a kiss, she would say sharply: “Huh-uh,” with a downward inflection in the voice equaled only by the downward tendency of her estimate of the young man. But should he win her heart and ask her some evening it she loved him as much as she did the evening before, she would close her full lips into the prettiest pout imaginable and murmur sweetly: “Um-hum-m-m, I love you a sight dearie,”

Another drawback to an Ozark courtship is the necessity of being quick with a gun. In the Ozarks “the gun” is a big revolver. Not that Ozark lovers must always or even commonly fight for their sweethearts. But they must always be prepared to do so. The Ozark girl fears neither man nor beast, and could conceal her contempt for the man who flunked even for one instant. No New Yorker without long practice, not oven time skilled patrons of Conlin’s shooting gallery, could live through an Ozark shooting match, and it would be uncomfortable, if heroic, to die even for an Ozark girl, especially as she would be sure to marry the survivor.

The picture of “An Ozark Beauty” is from a photograph of one of time handsomest ladies of the region, but it is nevertheless typical. Although married for a number of years, she is like all women who are well treated, handsome in her maturity than she was in the freshness of girlhood. Although more than 30 years old, she seems to be no more than 22. This is one of the peculiarities of the region. Not that a majority of the women retain their youth so long, but that a larger proportion of them do than in the ordinary country communities.

Work Cited:

“The Lovers of the Ozarks.” The Sun 61.156 (3 Feb. 1889): 8. Access Newspaper Archive Access. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 11 Nov. 2010 http://access.newspaperarchive.com.