Morgan, T. (Thomas) Clifford

T. Clifford Morgan one of my good friends in genealogy passed away on Monday, 21 Sep 2009 at Sedelia, MO. Clifford was very interested in the history and genealogy of the Morgan and Kyger families.

He shared his information with me (Richard Henthorn) and other researchers. He wrote twelve stories about the Morgan family which he shared. For many years they were available, on my AOL genealogy website. Recently I returned the stories to the Internet. You can find them on my genealogy "News" blog. Scroll down until you see the "Labels" area in the sidebar on the right. When you see the "Clifford" label click on it. That will gather a set of all the stories. Henthorn-Website-News.

A copy of the obituary is available on my "Obits" blog. Henthorn-Website-Obits

Mr. Dickie

Norris G. Henthorne

Norris G. Henthorne,
Former World Editor,
Civic Champion, Dies
Newspaper Career,
Almost Spanning a Half-Century,
Paralleled Growth of Tulsa

Printed in
The Tulsa World
Monday, December 10, 1962

Norris G. Henthorne, whose life was intimately connected with The Tulsa World and the city of Tulsa for nearly 50 years, died at 10:34 p.m. Sunday in St. John's Hospital. He was 71.

Henthorne, noted for his civic interests in Tulsa's parks, aviation, and health, had been ill since January 1960 when he retired as president of the World Publishing Company and editor of The Tulsa World.

A member of Oklahoma's Hall of Fame, Henthorne was one of the titans of journalism in Oklahoma and the Southwest.

He started his career with The Tulsa World in 1913 when he joined this paper as a bookkeeper, but, as he put it, really functioning as a handyman, keeping books, handling want ads and taking subscriptions. In this "handyman" capacity, Henthorne participated in an early-day World milestone when he signed up the paper's 10,000th subscriber.

The man who handled both editorial and business projects for the World with equal facility was born at Ironton, Ohio, March 22, 1891. Born in modest circumstances, Henthorn, as a youngster, held a series of jobs that nowadays has the ring of glamour from another era. However, in those days they were humble jobs but, in his case, led up.

As a small boy, Henthorne's first job was with an Ironton blacksmith who paid him $1 a week to help around the shop. His most responsible duty was to shoo flies from the horses while the blacksmith shod them.

Page Boy in Ohio

Between the ages of 10 and 12, Henthorne was a newspaper carrier.

Warren G. Harding, lieutenant governor of Ohio and later President of the United States, appointed 13-year-old Norris Gifford Henthorne to his first, and only, political post. He became a page boy in the Ohio state Senate. Henthorne served three terms as a page, gaining an insight into politics at an early age.

As a teen-ager, he worked on the crew of an excursion steamer plying between Cleveland and Chicago. In 1908, Henthorne, then 19, went to Columbus, Ohio to take a job with the Union National bank. When the bank was closed by federal action in 1911, he embarked on his life-long newspaper career "by accident." He went to work for a Columbus printing house getting his first taste of the publishing business.

Came to Tulsa in 1913

In March 1913, he migrated to Oklahoma. He came to Tulsa chiefly because an older brother, Clifford Henthorne, lived here. Shortly after he arrived, he met Gladys Roberts, another native of Ohio. Born at Findlay, the soon-to-be Mrs. Henthorne had moved to Bartlesville in 1904. They were married in Tulsa in 1914.

Henthorne served on the Tulsa park board for more than 30 years, serving as its president in 1920, 1921, 1922 and from 1933 to 1958 when the board's park and airport functions were divided.

Following the split, Henthorne became chairman of the Tulsa Airport Authority, a post he resigned early this year. Always aviation-minded, he was one of the leaders in creating Tulsa's new $10 million airport, one of the nation's finest.

Heard Rites Via Phone

Due to poor health Henthorne was unable to attend the dedicatory dinner for the new facility in November 1961. He listened avidly via telephone which linked the ceremony to his home at 1543 S. Yorktown Place. He retired from his Tulsa airport authority post in May of this year.

Henthorne and the board members were credited with being primarily responsible for one of the most important things that ever happened to Tulsa -- the acquisition of the American Airlines modification center.

Tulsa became a city of parks during Henthorne's long tenure on the board. One of the most spectacular contributions was the wading pool program which provided pool facilities for small children in almost every part in the city.

In the 1920's, Henthorne and E. Fred Johnson, president of the Fourth National Bank and a longtime park board member, interested oilman Frank Reed in the park program. Through their efforts, Reed built the first wading pool here and established a $100,000 trust fund with which to build pools over the state. The fund has constructed nearly 50 pools in Oklahoma, including several in Tulsa.

Two years ago a new eight-acre park at 48th St. and Quincy Ave. was named Norris G. Henthorne park in recognition of his long and fruitful service.

Henthorne, who became editor of the World in 1932 and president of the World Publishing Company in 1950 -- the year after former owner-publisher Eugene Lorton died -- kept up a steady flow of outside activities in addition to his newspaper duties.

Appointment by Governor

He served as a member of the Will Rogers Memorial Commission from the time he was appointed by the late Gov. E.W. Marland in 1938 until his death. He served as chairman of the commission for more than 20 years.

Henthorne, a 1918 charter member of the Kiwanis Club, served as it president in 1920 and was on its board of directors for four years.

Another area of active service in Henthorn's life was his connection with the Tulsa Public Health Association. He was president of the organization from 1921 to 1940. He became a director in 1941 and was appointed a life-time director in 1949. Henthorne's health service dated as far back as 1918 when he was chairman of the dispensary committee of the anti-tuberculosis committee of the Tulsa County chapter of the American Red Cross.

Ex-Chamber Director

Henthorne, a former director of the Tulsa Chamber of Commerce, was especially interested in the organization's highway committee, serving first on the panel in 1936.

During World War II, Henthorne was chairman of the Oklahoma State War Council, a civilian assistance group.

Activities he engaged in over the years were diverse. In 1930 he was named to a special Oklahoma commission to study ways of reducing illiteracy in the state. In the 1950's he was a member of former Gov. Roy J. Turner's citizens advisory council which directed the expenditure of a $36 million bond issue for the expansion and improvement of state mental institutions.

Honored by Press Club

Henthorne, a trustee of the Southwestern Art Association, a Mason, and a member of Southern Hills Country Club, was honored for lengthy service in the newspaper field in 1958 when the Tulsa Press Club name him a "Headliner," the organization's highest honor. Two years later, in January 1960, he wrote "30" to his career, stepping down from his posts at the World after an association of 47 years.

Henthorne also had served as president of the Oklahoma Press Association.

He is survived by the widow and four children and five grandchildren.

The children are:

• Norris G. Henthorne Jr., 2750 S. Evanston Ave.;
• John R. Henthorne, 3737 S. Evanston Ave.;
• Charles Thomas Henthorne, 4100 E. 61st St.;
• Mrs. Fred L. Lewis, Denver, Colo.

Other survivors include a sister, Mrs. Leon H. Miller, 2207 S. Delaware Court, and a brother, Leslie Henthorne, Chicago.

Services are pending with Stanleys Funeral Service. Burial will be in Rose Hill Mausoleum.

(Article included a photograph - furnished by Bill Henthorn, Enid, OK)

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Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 25 Sep 2009
File: StoNorr.txt

My Family's Trip In A Covered Wagon

My Family's Trip In A Covered Wagon
by
Mary Elizabeth (West) Henthorn
Ventura, California
October 26, 1983

When Gary Henthorn and his family, of Castro Valley, CA were here the first weekend of October 1983, Opal and I were telling about things that happened when our family went from Missouri to Kansas in a covered wagon. Gary asked me to write about what I can remember.

It would be around 1909. Eddie was a baby a year or so old. I remember we had a chair that Mama would tie him in while she cooked our meals over an open fire. That would make Opal around three years old, Maudie five and me seven.

We had two nice brown horses, Nance and Brady. I know you have seen pictures of covered wagons. As I remember this one, our bed was one ig bed that covered the wagon bed, even wider and very high from the ground because of supplies underneath the bed.

We went through what was a very large city, to us, anyway it had streets, large homes in rows (we had never lived anywhere but only on farms). Sometimes we got to go to the little country town, with a couple stores, livery stable, a small train depot, a few dwelling houses scattered around, no laid out streets or side walks. This was Mansfield, Missouri, my birth place, although I was born at Grandpa Keith's farm (Mother's parents) about seven miles out in the wooded, hilly country of the Ozarks. Of course, Mansfield today is much different. Many stores, banks, laid out streets, homes, schools and all that makes a town.

Back to this large city. And what did we see? Papa said, "Look there's a car!!" Really, we kids (that's not the right word - for that word was never used in those days unless you were speaking of young goats). I should say we girls. Well, we didn't even know there was such a thing as a "car." We knew wagons, buggies and the pretty surreys with the fringe on the top. Very few of these classic buggies where we lived. Papa knew about the car for he had probably read about them. I think he had been to Kansas before to work in the "harvests." As many men in the Ozarks would go to other states to work in the summers. Well, that was the first car we had ever seen. I have no idea what make it was. As I remember it was like a roadster, sitting at the curb.

I guess the most exciting time, I should say The Most Exciting Thing that happened on our trip to Kansas in a covered wagon was: We three girls always rode on the big bed, Papa and Mama in the spring wagon type seat, Mama holding the baby, Eddie. I don't remember what we did most the time to entertain ourselves, sometimes napping I'm sure, and I know it must of got boring. We didn't have "toys" or "games" to play, or books or crayolas (never heard of them).

Anyway we got to blowing into one another's faces and, of course, we would try to hide our faces or dodge when coming at one another. We were giggling and laughing. I think Papa told us to quiet down for we were really noisy and having fun, we thought. Well, anyway, Maudie blew into Opal's face and she was near the opening in the back of the canvas top. What would I call it? Well, what makes a covered wagon. And as she dodged she fell out through that hole, which was quite a fall. Maudie and I began calling to Papa and Mama, and they thought we were still playing. Finally we got it to Papa that Opal had fell out. He stopped the horses and ran back and picked her up, she was limp and very pale.

We were just entering a little village, I still can see it now, and right before us in the fork of the road was a drug store. Papa went to the drug store and got something for her to smell to revive her. I can't remember the name of it. I use to know. Just comes to me, they called it Sweet Spirits of Nitre. Mama put wet cloths on her head. She laid very still as we travelled on, and Maudie and I talked to her. Mama said for us to keep her awake. Well, we didn't play that game anymore.

And if I have it correct in my memory, that evening when we stopped to camp. It was a wooded place, not large trees but small shrubbery like trees, oh, some large ones. When we were ready to eat, called and called, but no Opal. Papa, Maudie and I started out in different directions calling "Opal," "Opal," no answer. I found her in a fence corner. (She couldn't go any farther.) She was bad at not answering when called. I don't remember if she got a spanking for not answering. (By the way I never heard of that word "spanking" in those days. It was called a whipping" and a whipping it would be!) Oh yes, when I found her she was eating "poke berries" and her mouth and face were purple from the berries. Poke berries were a wild berry that was not poisonous, but still not very good to eat. As I remember, very tasteless.

When we were going through very sandy country after we got into Kansas, it was rolling sand hills, we came upon a large field of watermelons. The melons were very large. I mean LARGE, the largest melons I have ever seen in my life. Unbelievably large. There was a tent (by the roadside) in the field. Papa called and called like they use to do when you'd drive up into anyone's yard and you see no one around. You would call out "anybody here?" several times. When no one answered or showed up, Papa decided to gather a couple, maybe it was three. There were so many. And he and Mama together had a hard time getting them up into the wagon. One was so large they had to give up on getting it up into the wagon. Oh, some were long, very long and others Big and Round.

After that we came to a farm. It was many miles after that and the folks were distant cousins of Mama's. So a melon was cut, and as I remember, delicious! There was quite a crowd of us. I believe we stayed overnight there.

I think I'll tell it here about the first ride in a car. It was later. We had a neighbor lady that owned a car, and one day she took Mama to the little town Lewis, Kansas, to trade. That's the term used in those days for what we call shopping today. Because trade was that you could take farm produce as eggs, etc., and trade for sugar, salt, flour and such. I remember the first dry cereal or breakfast food was "Post Toasties." It was so good, really delicious, we had a milk cow and the cream was so good on the Post Toasties. Now back to the first car ride - there was a long lane into our house from the main road. We three girls, Opal, Maudie and me, ran to meet them when we saw them enter the lane. The lady stopped to let us get in to ride. It was just a one seated coupe, all open, no top. Mama had the baby, Eddie, on her lap. We crowded in, sitting in the floor, and as I remember Maudie bumped the switch on the dashboard that turned the engine off. It scared us. We didn't know what had happened. But the lady said don't be afraid. She got out and cranked it up again.

My, what excitement our first car ride! Probably the length of a block. We had a neighbor whose name was "Passwater," I'm not sure if that was her name.

The first house we lived in in Kansas was very small, a farm hand house. Papa worked for two brothers, called the Olsen Brothers, I've forgotten their first names. By the way, children were not allowed to call adults by their first names (sometimes called their given names). These brothers were not married. They owned acres and acres of wheat land and some cattle or stock.

The story now; How I came to have the scar on my right cheek near my eye. The yard of this place had nothing but sand and weeds, and in these weeds a small burr called "sand burr." As we had only this to play in we would get stickers from the burrs in our feet, legs, hand and arms. Sometimes had to be picked out. Papa picked one out of my cheek, using a pin (he said later was probably the reason I got infection in it) and it wouldn't heal. I had what they called a running sore on my cheek for nearly a year. In those months it would almost heal up, then flare up sometimes almost into my eye. So many, I remember, telling my folks what to use. One thing they were told to use was called "olenuer mud." That was terrible, it would pull the scab off. (I think that's what is called antifestgestive now.) It's not used anymore. I don't know why I wasn't taken to a doctor. It had to be something really serious, not just a sore on your face.

When I was growing up the scar was very noticeable, and I was very conscious of it. Many asking about it. I don't remember just when, I realize it was just part of me and everyone had to accept it along with me. I guess it was when "Pop" (my Dear Elba) loved me, even with the bad scar, I finally just forgot about it and, of course, it has faded through the years. (That would be 70 some years now.)

We didn't live in this small house for very long. But into another farm house that had a large dining room and a long dining table. You know why? When harvest time came the large fields of wheat needed to be harvested. Many farmers in a locale getting together with harvest hands (workers to reap the harvest). They would go from farm to farm harvesting the whole countryside.

Now Mama and some other ladies (farmers wives) cooked the noon meals for these hard working harvesters. I can remember watching them prepare the food. (My duty to take care of the little children). The table loaded with food, the men dirty and sweaty, washing up on a bench outside by the doorway with wash pans (no bath rooms).

How they would enjoy eating the food, joking and teasing one another. I remember this well for they were happy and having fun although working very hard.

There's something that comes to mind I'd like to tell you that was the way of doing in my childhood. When there was any dinner anytime that all could not get around the table at the same time, the adults always ate first. The children waited for what they called the second table before they could eat. There was no refrigerator or ice box. They had a small house called "spring house." Water running through it on gravel and flat rocks to set the containers on that you wanted kept cool. The water from a windmill.

Now some things that happened when we moved into another very nice farm house that was closer to the little town of Lewis, Kansas. Maudie and I started to a little country school. Our "first" school. Of course, we walked, I don't remember how many miles. No such thing as a school bus. I know we couldn't see the school from our house, and it was flat or level country. We walked on a railroad track part of the way. It was a one room school and thirteen pupils. I have a picture of it. Maudie and I being the youngest and the only ones in first "reader" as it was called then instead of grades. I remember some of the big boys and girls were grown up.

Maudie and I started with a primer then into readers. I read up through the third reader that term. (I loved reading and still do.) Just come to mind, Opal wanted to go with us to school so much. The teacher told us to bring her to visit. I can see her now, setting on the teachers lap, behind her desk.

A memory I'd like to tell. One time Maudie and I came home from school and Papa and Mama were gone. We changed our school clothes into play clothes. Then it began to get dark, and they had not returned. We began to get frightened and started crying. We changed back into our school clothes, I don't know why, unless we thought we might go to a neighbor's, but it was so dark to do that. We would cry, then listen to see if we could hear the wagon coming. We had a little pet pig (Stubby was his name). We put him in a box (I guess to take him with us). We didn't know what to do, only cry, then listen. Finally we heard a wagon, so kept listening until we could hear it start up the lane into the house. We were crying our hearts out. Mama quickly came to us and consoled us. Papa had gone to help a neighbor, and it had took longer than they had expected.

Oh, there's something I must tell you. I remember very plainly watching "Haley's Comet." Many evenings after it would get dark, I really don't know how long it appeared. It fascinated me. I couldn't understand how a good sized star hung in the eastern sky with a beautiful tail hanging down. I remember them saying we wouldn't see it again for many years. Now I believe its to appear again soon.

A few other things that happened at this place involves Opal. One day she and Eddie were hollering into a rain barrel (a barrel at the corner of the house to catch rain water). To holler they would hear their echo. Opal tells me they were taking turns. She thought Eddie was taking too long and she wanted her turn, so she pushed him in. Then she began trying to pull him out crying "Ishem, you Ishem." (That was Eddie's name then, he changed it later.) It happened that Papa was up in the windmill nearby working on it. He heard her and could see what was happening. He came down quickly and pulled Eddie out. He was almost drowned, took a bit for him to draw a breathe. She was sorry and very good to him, wanted him to come play with her. She was one that could play by herself, make believe and talk to herself.

Eddie had dark red hair, and just in pretty ringlets. One day Papa gave him a hair cut. Opal didn't know it. Papa took Eddie to where she was playing and told her "Here's a little boy to come to play with you." She took Eddie by the hand and lead him away to play with her. I don't know when she realized it was Eddie.

We had a neighbor we called Auntie McGill. She made over Opal. One day Opal, I don't know if she had been scolded or what, anyway, she tied a red bandanna on her head and started for Auntie McGill's. I happened to see her when she turned the corner of a big corn field quite some distance away. Mama sent me to get her.

Oh, I must tell you what happened the night Harold arrived in this world. January 26, 1910. We were told the doctor brought him, and that the doctor got stuck in that kind of uphill long lane into the house. (The same lane we had our first car ride.) The doctor was in one of those famous cars of those days. You know roads were all dirt, didn't know about blacktop. As it was winter time, rain and snow, so always mud. Really the horse was the best transportation in the winter. Well, Papa had to take his team of horses to pull the doctor's car on up the lane. I don't know how he got back through the mud. Probably down hill he could make it.

I remember a Christmas at this place. We would always hang our stockings up Christmas Eve. Then the excitement next morning. Santa Claus had come and filled our stockings with small toys, candy and nuts. This year we had an orange to top it, which was very rare. I think the first time to see an orange.

There was a Christmas in a small house in Missouri. I don't remember the year (was after our time in Kansas). We three girls all received a doll for Christmas. Mine was larger than Maudie and Opal's. And, oh, how beautiful I thought she was. Its the only doll I remember. I'm sure I had others. A neighbor friend of Mama's, an old maid they called her, I didn't know what that meant. I remember her name, "Nettie Cline." She made such beautiful dresses for our dolls. I guess that's the first time I learned who Santa Claus really was. How I loved that pretty doll. I thought I would keep her forever. But, with the many moves, I don't know what happened to her.

Mama and we five children went back to Missouri from Kansas on the train to Grandpa Keith's. I don't remember anything of this train trip. Papa drove back in the spring wagon because he wanted to keep his team of horses. I don't know what happened to the covered wagon.

We children were playing in the meadow in front of Grandpa's house, when some man that was driving by stopped and began to talk to us. He was asking questions, our names, where we lived and such. I can't remember just how or what he said, "but it was Papa." He had grown a mustache and we did not recognize him. We thought he was a stranger.

Just one more memory (I have many others). We lived then on what was called the "Hunter Bond" place, a farm. Maudie and I went to "Roy School," walked up a steep wooded hill. Opal was not old enough to go yet, for you had to be seven years old before you could start to school. What I started to tell you was Papa and Mama went at night to a "protractive meeting" that's what they call revival meetings today,
or crusades.

I don't know how far away they went in the spring wagon. They left me with Maudie, Opal and Eddie. Harold was a baby, so took him with them. Most the time we would go to sleep. Other times I couldn't sleep, be so frightened, would listen and listen to hear the wagon coming in. I would be so happy to hear them drive in.

I don't know where to stop, but maybe it would be interesting to tell you about our next school. Maudie and I went to, it was a river or near a river we had to cross to get to the school, called Bryant School. The name of the river.

In the summer we could wade the river (as we always went bare foot in the summers) to get to the school. Winter months, with the rains and snow, the river would be too high to wade. We could only get across to the school by a big tree log put across the river, and we had to walk on the log -- quite scary at times.

Shall I tell you of something else that you probably never heard of. Some children had lice on their heads. We never got them that I remember. Mama would keep our heads clean, shampooed with homemade soap. We smelled like homemade soap that's kinda like homemade lye. Really all children did. We didn't know of hand soap then. Homemade soap did the trick of eliminating the head lice, if you kept faithful.

My parents: Homer West and Julia Keith West were parents of nine children. We first six, were 18 or 19 months apart. Number 7, Keith, was 13 months old when I was married. The two, Ruth and Derrek, younger than our first son, Leroy.

• Mary Elizabeth West Henthorn, born Oct 15, 1902
• Delia Maude West Dye, deceased, born June 24, 1904
• Minnie Opal West Dart, born Aug 13, 1906
• Edward Ishem West, deceased, born Mar 21, 1908
• Harold Alvin West, born Jan 26, 1910
• James Benjamin (Ben or Bennie) West
• Homer Keith West, born July 17, 1912
• Virginia Ruth West Custer Meyers
• Elba Darrell West

Next 3 paragraphs are additional recollections added on a Friday in September 1986.

Just thinking of something in my childhood - Why? I don't know. Things come to mind like film strips.

Papa took me with him to the mill to have corn ground into cornmeal. As I remember, a beautiful horse to a buggy. He suddenly was frightened by something (it was a winding wooded country road), and he began to run out of control. (What we called "run away horse.") Papa took and threw me out by the roadside, I was not hurt only frightened. When he got the horses in control, came back and got me.

Then there's a time when we lived in Kansas. We had a buggy horse that was blind in one eye. Mama would hitch her up to the buggy, take us, me, Maudie, Opal and Eddie, to visit a neighbor. On the way home she decided to drive by where Papa and others where threshing wheat. Can't remember the horse's name (I should). Anyway, the noise from the threshing machine frightened her and she started to run away. Mama couldn't control her. She finely ran into a barbwire fence, then quieted down. I remember Mama was pulling tight on the reins and talking to her.

I've added many things not on "the covered wagon trip." I'll have to write other things that might be of interest to my descendants. As my childhood, was so much different than today, like another world.

I see I started writing "The Covered Wagon Trip," October 26, 1983. Today is July 11, 1984. I've made several rewrites, thinking of other incidents to include.

Signed: "Nana Mary" Mary E. Henthorn.

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Email Dick Henthorn: Rhenthorn1@aol.com
Posted: 25 Sep 2009
File: StoWest.txt

Herbert Kyger's Experience

A Plucky Engineer
Herbert Kyger's Experience
Shot in the Muscles of the Right Arm at Virden
He Comes Home and Tells His Story
Bloomington, Ill, Thursday Morning, October 13, 1898

Herbert Kyger, the courageous young Alton engineer, who was pulling the train load of negroes yesterday into Virden, and who was shot by the strikers, arrived in this city last evening at 7 o'clock on the evening accommodation, and was taken at once to his home, 210 West Graham street, where an anxious wife, mother and family were awaiting his arrival. There were all sorts of rumors as to the nature of his injuries but they are not of a serious nature. He was shot in the muscles of his right arm, the bullet glancing upward and lodging near the shoulder. It is an ugly wound and was undoubtedly made by a weapon of a large caliber.

The report that the engineer had been injured created great excitement on the west side yesterday afternoon and there were all sorts of rumors afloat as to the nature and extent of the trouble.

Like hundreds of similar circumstances on the Chicago & Alton the man who was injured yesterday was off his regular run and taking some other engineer's place. Had Engineer Kyger's engine remained in good condition it would not have been he but Art Watkins who would have been suffering from an ugly bullet wound.

The trouble existing at the Virden mines is familiar to all who have been reading the telegraphic accounts of the affair in the newspapers. It culminated yesterday in a riot on the attempt of the mine operators to bring in negroes over the Chicago & Alton.

The Train

A special train left East St. Louis early yesterday morning bound for the Virden mines. It was composed of six cars, including caboose.

Four of the cars were from a Alabama railroad and were passenger coaches. These cars were filled with negro miners destined to take the place of the striking miners. Next to the engine was one box car containing the baggage and equipment of the negroes. On the end of the train was the caboose. The train left St. Louis pulled by engine 94, engineer, Art Watkins, and had a slow schedule.

Kyger Changed Engines

At Godfrey the north-bound limited due to arrive in this city at 12:55, came along and overtook the train of negroes. The limited was pulled by Engineer Kyger and Fireman Albert Anderson was opposite him. They were on the 88 which has seen many thrilling experiences on the rail. The engine gave out due to a hot driving box.

The officials ordered the engines changed and Kyger and fireman with the 88 were given the train of negroes to take to Springfield, while Watkins and fireman were placed on the Limited with the 94 and brought the train in safely, though delayed on account of the change.

Engineer Kyger did not know that he was soon to face a storm of bullets and be the target of hundreds of infuriated men. The orders from the officials on the road were to stop the train at the stockade and unload the negroes and the engineer was ready to obey the mandate.

The Arrival at Virden

The train which Engineer Kyger was pulling, he said, pulled into Virden at exactly 12 o'clock and went by the depot at the rate of 15 miles an hour. Engineer Kyger said that when he arrived in sight of the depot he saw the armed miners in great numbers. He sat in the cab window and kept his arm on the throttle until the train came to the stockade.

Acting under orders from the officials the engineer brought the train to a full stop. He said it was right in front of the stockade and on each side of the train were a swarm of armed miners. It was only a few minutes after the stop that the firing commenced.

The Engineer's Escape

Engineer Kyger and the fireman were in the cab while six armed deputies and one negro were on the engine. Some of the deputies were in the gangway, others on the tank and also a couple on the hind end of the tender. All were heavily armed. The train had just stopped when a bullet struck the engineer in the arm. He uttered a moan and some one called to him to get down from his seat in the cab and he did so standing on the deck. This was the signal for firing on both sides and the engineer said he had just been shot when the deputies returned the fire. In an instant the whole train was riddled with bullets.

The engineer saw the trend of affairs and with quick wit grabbed the throttle and pulled the train out of the city at lightning speed. Although suffering from the bullet wound Kyger struck to his post and with a shattered arm ran the engine to the next station about six miles. He was getting faint from loss of blood and turned the throttle over to Fireman Anderson who pulled the train to Springfield, the brakeman taking the fireman's place in the cab.

Taken to Hospital

Kyger was taken into the caboose with several other injured deputies and colored men and brought to Springfield. He was taken to a hospital and two physicians probed for the ball but could not find it. He then asked to be sent home and arrived at 7 o'clock. A local physician made a critical examination of the wound but after probing some time could not fine the ball. The engineer stood this ordeal without flinching and though small in stature and physical make-up, evidenced great pluck and never flinched. He will go to Deaconess hospital this morning and after being placed under the influence of chloroform the doctors will cut Mr. Kyger's arm open under daylight and then it is thought the bullet can be found and blood poisoning prevented. The ball is probably imbedded deep in the muscle of the shoulder and is hard to locate.

A Miraculous Escape

Mr. Kyger said the bullet must have been a spent ball or it would have ... his body. He believes it went through one and a half inches of the cab wood before entering his arm. His elbow was resting on the window sill of the cab while his hand was on the brake valve. The bullet, he is positive, was fired by someone at the bottom of the embankment near the track.

As great as the excitement was, Kyger had time to observe some of the results of the shooting. The engine and cars, he said, were full of bullet holes. The wooden part of the cab where he was sitting was a mass of holes and had it not been for the fact that he was told to step down he would have been killed instantly. The boiler head and other parts of the engine were riddled with holes. Half a dozen balls passed through the window where the engineer had been sitting a moment before. The windows were all shot out. One ball passed through the cab window and was found imbedded in the copper tube which ... ... ... . If it had pierced the tube the engineer and fireman would have been scalded to death and the train probably ... .

Negroes in the Cars

The wounded man was ... in .... to ... much, but said the cars were a sight to behold after ... ... the fire. The negroes had ... ... ... in the bottom of the ... ... ... and would not get up. T... ... ... were on the platform ... ... ... the caboose also crowded ... ... escaped. Fireman Anderson ... ... ... in sight after the train reached ... He was down near the ... ... ... ... not see any of the ... . Kyger said the wounded negroes who were taken to the hospital with him said they did not know they were going to take the place of strikers.

*******

Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 25 Sep 2009
File: StoKyger

Eldon Henthorne In Show Biz

The Swede, The Tramp, And the Girl
Eldon Henthorne In Show Biz
by
Janice A. Sime
Epitaph - News
Viola, WI
18 Jul 1991

In April of 1928, 21 year old Eldon Henthorne was working for a roofing company in LaCrosse. He was laid off - two weeks before his wedding to Sophie Hammer of Avalanche. He accepted the only job he could find. He and Sophie joined the Dalton Show, a vaudeville company passing through this area.

The company was owned by Mr. and Mrs. Carl Dalton and was showing a combination of melodrama and acrobatics called "Sis of the Circus." Including Eldon and Sophie, the show employed fifteen people. They were people of varied talents ranging from musicians to acrobats to loose wire artists. The only problem was that the show was losing money. In the twenties, many people in small towns felt that they had been cheated by circuses and circus people. As a result they were reluctant to come to the show with the word "circus" in the title.

Mr. Dalton decided drastic measures were called for - so he laid off the entire company except for Eldon and Sophie. He then took the show to Ortonville, Minnesota where for the next two weeks they did nothing but read lines and fish. Presently, they opened in Big Stone City, South Dakota (across the lake from Ortonville) in a new show called "The Swede, the Tramp, and the Girl". Mr. Dalton played the Swede - the hero, Sophie played the Girl, and Eldon played the villain of the piece, the Tramp. Eldon also helped out by playing the piano. For their work, the Henthornes were paid $65 per week plus traveling expenses. Eldon says: "It was a good, clean show - a good show that made people laugh." The Dalton Show toured Wisconsin, Minnesota, North and South Dakota, and Montana. They gave a performance six nights a week. Each performance was in a different opera house in a different town.

Although the Daltons had a caravan wagon in which they slept, the Henthornes lived in a tent. Eldon recalls that it was really quite comfortable. They had a bed, a camp stove, and a little cupboard.

When they weren't performing or rehearsing, the company spent a lot of time fishing. In Minnesota there were many private lakes owned by Norwegian farmers, however, these lakes were often posted for "No Fishing." Eldon would send Sophie down to the farm houses to ask if they could fish there, as she could speak Norwegian. Many times they were allowed to fish where others could not.

Eldon notes with interest that Mr. Dalton was a very nice person, although he was very superstitious. Perhaps this is a trait of many performers. He would drive miles out of his way to keep from crossing a black cat's path. Every day in a new opera house, he would count the rows of seats. If there were thirteen rows he would insist that one row be added or removed. At the end of the 1928 season, the Daltons asked Eldon and Sophie to go to Florida with them. However, the young couple decided that since they were going to start a family, they would come back to Readstown [WI]. Here Eldon got a job working in the creamery. Several years later the Dalton Show did play the Shamrock Opera House in Viola [WI]. At that time, Eldon and Sophie introduced their growing family to their former road companions.

Although Sophie's foray into show business was the season with the Daltons, Eldon had performed before. He began his musical career with a clarinet and piano duet with his sister Mildred on the platform of the Sugar Grove Church of Christ. They played "Love's Old Sweet Song." While recovering from a particularly serious appendicitis operation at the age of seven, he learned to play the clarinet. He was taught to play the instrument by Sam and Neli Asperheim, who were proprietors of the Sugar Grove store. He also took piano lessons from Helen Lake, who lived in the present day Don Krahenbuhl farm. After he finished school, one of the bands he played in was Readstown's own "Wisconsin Five." This band was headed by Leon Callaway (brother of the late Bernie Callaway) and included Elmer Mason, Orvin Salmon, Ted Callaway, and Eldon. They played at dances all over the area. In those days, bands played for a 60/40, 60% for the band and 40% for the management. A musician could average $14 per night. Admission was often $1.00 with 10› War Tax. The bands typically played waltzes, one steps, and fox trots. Popular songs included "Three o'clock in the Morning," "Sleep," "Stuttering," and "Moonlight and Roses." He played at a dance in Mt. Sterling on the night of the mysterious Clara Olson murder in that town. He remembers seeing both Clara and her husband at the dance.

Eldon was working at the village creamery in 1927 when the Rusk Comedy Show came to Readstown. They pitched their tent in the uptown park. This was a medicine show run by a son of former Governor Rusk - Frank Rusk. He sold such things as patent medicines and candy. Tickets were imprinted with the letters "SS." The buyers were told that these were the initials of the prizes the holders of the tickets would win, for example, a pair of shoe strings or a sugar shell. Once in a great while a silverware set was given away. The show was looking for a musician, so Eldon left his job with the creamery and signed on for $45 per week. The band included Eldon on clarinet, Gene Mitchell of Thorp on trumpet, Floyd Shepherd of Mt. Sterling on trombone, and Leona Barry of Alton, Illinois on piano. Leona's husband, Bert, was a tap dancer.

Eldon did not have to do any of the show's hustling and selling but the musicians did have to help put up the big tent. The show stayed about a week in each place. Eldon's last engagement was at the Viroqua Fairgrounds.

After he left the Rusk Comedy Show, Eldon and several friends (George Ewing, Pearlie Gochenaur, and "Skinny" Walters) took off for Carter, Oklahoma to pick cotton. Eldon and George had a career as cotton pickers that lasted exactly one day. Pickers were paid a penny a pound. For his day's work Eldon earned 37›. By chance Eldon and George met up with the local postmaster. He also managed the local opera house, which showed silent movies six nights a week and twice on Saturday. Week days he showed the movies in rural school houses. He hired the two boys to play for these movies and paid them $3 each for every performance. He also allowed all four boys to sleep in the opera house at night. Eldon spent several months in Oklahoma. He returned to Readstown on Thanksgiving Day.

Eldon was born in 1907 to Mertie and Herman Henthorne in the Sugar Grove, [WI] area. His parents farmed where Leroy McKittrick lives today. He attended the Coher school from grades one to seven. In 1921 his family moved to Readstown where Eldon went to eighth grade and two years of high school. After high school, Eldon did farm work and worked with his father in the creamery. He also worked in other creameries in the area, including Steuben and Soldiers Grove.

In 1932, Sophie and Eldon moved to Jump River, Wisconsin. They would later live in Ft. Atkinson and Hannibal, Wisconsin and Marquette, Michigan. Eldon retired in 1969 and the couple moved back to Readstown in 1980. Sophie passed away in 1989.

Looking back on their experiences on the road, Eldon says: "I liked it and Sophie liked it too. We saw a lot of country and got to know a lot of nice people. We saw life as it really is."

(The article appeared on page 1 and included two photos - furnished by Arthur Glick)

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Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 25 Sep 2009
File: StoEldon.txt

No Divorce for Uncle Wash

No Divorce for Uncle Wash

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

1995

Washington Fain Reser was born the 30th of November, 1849. As a very young man, he had strong convictions as to what was right. He enlisted in the Union Army during the Civil War, serving in Co. I of the 14th Regiment of Missouri Volunteer Calvary.

At the end of the War, in 1865, he was not yet 16 years old. He was tall, thin and had steel gray eyes that seemed to be piercing those who disagreed with him.

When he was about 28 years old, he married my great-aunt, Cynthia Ann Morgan, who was then a girl of 20 years. He probably figured that she understood in those days that a man was boss. The husband ruled the roost and didn't get any static from his wife or children. Aunt "Sint," as she was called, believed that a wife had just as many rights as her husband, but she didn't tell him until after the wedding. She was a "Women's Libber" long before this became fashionable in the 20th Century.

Uncle Wash didn't believe in divorce, so he made the best of staying married to a woman, who made him toe the mark at times during their long married life.

Uncle Wash saved every penny that he could from his hard work. He was able to own a general store in the town of Black Oak in Hickory County, Missouri (Later renamed, Preston). He was Postmaster for several years there. The money he saved was loaned on real estate for 8% interest. The interest alone made him a wealthy man. His store was kept open for long hours. When it was close to dark he would close the store and walk one half mile to the large two story house that he had built for his young wife.

One of his first encounters with Aunt "Sint's" temper came one morning when he complained about the kindling wood she had brought in the evening before. She told him that she would continue to carry in wood but the kindling would be his business. She wanted him to understand that she wouldn't touch kindling wood for the rest of her life. Uncle Wash didn't like this, but he didn't believe in divorce.

One of the disagreements concerned Aunt "Sints" helping her poor relatives. Uncle Wash felt he didn't have any trouble supporting his large family, so why couldn't every man support his wife and children. He lost that battle too, for Aunt "Sint" continued to help her sisters and brothers whenever they needed it.

As their large family reached school age, Uncle Wash made it known that he thought they should finish school at age 16. After all he had done very well with little schooling. Uncle Wash won the argument as far as the girls were concerned, but all the boys went to college.

His son, Winer, became a merchant. Ott was a Doctor. Horance became a dentist and Otis was a Doctor. Tom was also a Doctor. One of the girls, Fanny, married a Doctor. I believe I remember their names correctly. When I was a young boy, Uncle Wash was an old man. He still had those steel gray eyes.

I have talked to many of the people who knew Uncle Wash and Aunt "Sint." One of those who loved to talk about Uncle Wash was his nephew, Elias Padget, son of Seraphina, who was a sister of Aunt "Sint."

I visited Elias Padget in the 1970's. My son, Tom, and I would go backpacking in the Grand Canyon during my summer vacation. We hiked most of the well known trails. When we left the Canyon with tired feet, we would stop in the Oklahoma Panhandle to visit with Elias and Leona Padget. Elias was my cousin. He was about 80 and was a World War I Army Veteran.

One evening as we sat on Elias's front porch, I asked him about his memories of Uncle Wash. He told me a story of Uncle Wash and the kindling wood.

Elias was a little "tad." The winter was coming on. His parents had been through a drought. They had no money and not much food stored. Aunt "Sint" agreed to take young Elias for the winter and clothe and feed him. Uncle Wash didn't think much of spending money on one of her relatives. Elias's mother instructed him to be good and to help Aunt "Sint" out. He was told to be especially nice to Uncle Wash.

Elias helped carry in the wood. He was an early riser and would get dressed in the cold upstairs. Then he could hurry downstairs where Uncle Wash was building a fire in the potbelly stove. Sometimes he would get down before Uncle Wash came in carrying the lantern and the kindling wood. He wondered why Uncle Wash didn't get the kindling wood when he came in from the store while it was still daylight.

Uncle Wash wore a night gown and a night cap and was sort of an amusing sight as he knelt on the floor and blew on the fire to get it started. Elias would sit and rock in Aunt "Sint's" rocker, which Uncle Wash would not allow if Aunt "Sint" were present. When the fire got started, Uncle Wash would sit and rock in his rocker until the fire made some coals. Then he would take coals in a little shovel to the cook stove to start a fire there.

With the fires going well, he would go upstairs to wake up Aunt "Sint" and the kids. They would get dressed while Aunt "Sint" got breakfast for the large family. Breakfast always consisted of biscuits and gravy, bacon and eggs. After breakfast Uncle Wash would feed the cattle and horses, milk two cows, and then go to the store.

As time went on and the winter got worse with more snow and cold, Elias got more concerned as to why Uncle Wash didn't get the kindling wood before dark the evening before. He asked his cousins, but only got the answer, "That is Dad's business." One day he thought it would be nice if he would bring in the kindling for the next morning. Aunt "Sint" caught him and told him to take the kindling back to the wood pile and never try that again.

Finally, young Elias decided that he would ask Uncle Wash why he didn't get in the kindling in the evening while it was daylight. The trouble was that Elias couldn't get up the nerve to ask him.

One cold evening with a cold blizzard bringing wind and snow, Elias thought surely Uncle Wash would stop at the wood pile to find some kindling wood, but Uncle Wash passed up the wood pile as usual. The next morning Elias got up quickly. Going downstairs he looked out the window at all the snow. He saw Uncle Wash out at the wood pile with the lantern kicking the snow trying to find some kindling. At last he heard Uncle Wash stamping his boots to rid them of snow. Elias opened the door and in came Uncle Wash trying to hold on to the lantern and the kindling.

It was time to ask Uncle Wash about his method of gathering in the kindling. Elias waited until Uncle Wash had the fires started and sat down to rock. "Uncle Wash may I ask you a question?" Uncle Wash stopped rocking and leaning forward he stared at the brassy brat who dared to ask him a question. Young Elias squirmed under his gaze and wished that he was elsewhere. Finally Uncle Wash held up one finger and said, "Elias I will let you ask one question." Then he went back to rocking.

Elias was scared and to make matters worse Uncle Wash was amused to see how scared Elias was. Elias decided to drop the matter. After a while, Uncle Wash stopped rocking and stared hard at Elias. He asked in a amused tone, "Elias, what was it you wanted to ask me?" Elias had to ask the question. He began, "Uncle Wash, when you came home from the store yesterday, it was starting to snow. It looked like a real blizzard would snow the wood pile under, why in the world didn't you find and bring in the kindling then?"

The question seemed to hit a sore spot with Uncle Wash. He went back to rocking, and no longer seemed amused. He kept glancing up the stairs as if he wondered if Aunt "Sint" was listening. After a while he stopped rocking, and his voice seemed to be almost pleading for understanding. "Young Elias, let's you and I do some supposing. Now suppose I did bring in the kindling wood the night before. Let's keep on supposing. Suppose I had died before morning. What do you suppose would happen to my kindling then? Well, I'll tell you what would happen, someone else would get to use my kindling wood." Uncle Wash went back to rocking and Elias never again asked him a question.

The year went by fast for young Elias. His father heard the next Spring about the Oklahoma Panhandle being opened up for settlement. With the family in a Concord wagon, he started west. Seraphine said good-bye to her brothers and sisters, whom she was never to see again. Young Elias almost didn't survive the trip. These long trips by wagon were hard on children. Elias got cold and hungry. They stopped once at a settler's cabin. Elias and the family had a good meal of beans. Elias felt like he might make it when his stomach was filled so well and they started on.

The land they settled on had no trees for building a house or for fuel for a stove. They lived in a dugout while Elias's father went to Liberal, Kansas to work on the railroad. The children would pick up buffalo chips to fuel the wood cook stove. They had to carry water from miles away. Elias probably looked back on his life with Aunt "Sint" and Uncle Wash and wished he was still there.

The years went by fast for Uncle Wash and Aunt "Sint" too. There children grew up, got married, and moved away except for Winer. He took over Uncle Wash's store, which sold groceries, dry goods, and even caskets. As they grew older Aunt "Sint" and Uncle Wash spent much time in their rocking chairs. In the summer they moved their chairs out on the porch. Their Last Will and Testament divided their large estate equally among their children. Both of them agreed on the will.

A bone of contention arose when the roof of the house started leaking. Aunt "Sint" wanted to spend money to get a new roof put on the house. Uncle Wash refused to spend money for this project and he won the battle. The roof continued to leak and Aunt "Sint" put pans and buckets under the worst leaks. The water even ran down the walls and ruined the family pictures hanging there.

Aunt "Sint" died the 25th of February, 1927 and was laid to rest in the cemetery where others of her family were buried. Uncle Wash continued to live on in the old, house. On days when he felt good, he would walk to the old store to visit with Winer and the customers, who had fond memories of him.

The leaky roof got worse and the children agreed that they would pay for the new roof. They elected Mabel to break the news to Uncle Wash. She seemed to have more nerve than her brothers and sisters. She approached her father with the news that she and the others would pay for a new roof. He struggled out of the rocking chair. He stood up and shaking his finger at Mabel, informed her, "That as long as he lived, that old roof would be good enough for him."

Uncle Wash died in October of 1942 and was laid to rest by Aunt "Sint," who as a young girl had married him 65 years before.

His grandson, Fain, restored and reroofed the old landmark, which had served as home for the large family. It still stands, vacant in 1995.

Dr. Tom Reser of Cole Camp erected at the entrance to the cemetery a large granite stone inscribed to the memory of his parents, Washington F. and Cynthia Ann Reser. The engraving on the stone reads, "In this final resting place, only virtues are remembered." You can see this stone at Fisher cemetery near Preston, Missouri.

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Email Dick Henthorn: Rhenthorn1@aol.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorWash.txt

Run Over By a Ford

Run Over by a Ford

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

26 Dec 1996

This is Dec. 26, 1996, and I'm trying to remember stories that are based on what I remember myself and what I remember of what my parents and different people have told me.

The first story is one that I don't like to recall in most ways. It is the time that I was run over by a Model T Ford. I doubt that many people got run over by a Model T, because it made a lot of noise, and it rattled a lot especially on a rough road, you could hear it coming from a long way off.

Previous to Model T days, the road that is now highway 54 was a mud road. When the cars came, the cars could not get through the mud holes on the road, so that they were forced to haul rock to the road. This made a bumpy road, but at least after the cars came, the road became passable.

When I was a child we lived across the road from Grandpa and Grandma Morgan. The mail address was Route 1 Box 23B. We got our mail from the same mailbox as Grandpa's. This mailbox was on our side of the road across the road from Grandpa's, but in 1924, when Grandpa's health failed, we moved to his place.

In the summer of 1925, I was six years old, and like all the boys that I knew of at that time, I went barefoot in the summer. I never remember walking anywhere. I always ran. At that time, the mail was carried by an old time mail carrier, Sam Edde. Sam had started carrying the mail on mud roads on horse back. Later with some improvement on the road, he carried the mail in a buggy. In 1917, he bought his first car, but he continued to keep his horses and buggy for times when the road was too muddy for the car.

Mama had a habit of watching for the mail. When the mail came she would tell me, and I would run out to get it. The one day of the week that we were sure to get mail was Thursday because that was the day when the Index, the county paper, came. She would see the mail carrier coming up the road from the east, and she would holler, "Clifford, here comes the mail." I would run across the road and stand by the mail box until the mail carrier arrived.

It's hard to understand now, with all the traffic on Highway 54, that at that time there were few cars that went by. A good illustration of this fact is that my parents took the first photograph of me as a baby after laying me down on a blanket in the middle of the road. Now you wouldn't dare do something like that.

When Sam drove up, from the east, he would give me the paper, and I would run around the car and back to the house. This particular day, I was unaware that there was a Model T approaching from the west. Sam Edde's car was making a lot of noise, and from where I was standing at the mail box, I couldn't see or hear the other car. Holding the paper with one hand, and going at full speed, I ran directly into the path of the car. I was knocked unconscious, and never was able to remember seeing the Model T.

The first that I remember, I was being held in the arms of a strange man, and I looked around and there was a second man that I had never seen before. The man that was holding me said that he would be glad to take me to the doctor. That scared me, and I started crying. Just about that time, Papa ran up as fast as he could run, and took me in his arms. The talk about going to the doctor had scared me, and Papa decided that I wasn't hurt bad enough to go to the doctor. I did have a few bruises and scratches, but that was all.

When Papa first arrived, he asked, "Did you run over my boy?" The men explained that the boy had run out in front of the car, and that there hadn't been time for them to stop. One man told Papa that they lived at Linn Creek. Linn Creek was the town in Camden County that was covered by the Lake of the Ozarks many years later. Now Linn Creek is at a new location but has the same name. The men went on their way, and as far as I know, Papa never did get their names. After they had left, I saw the newspaper that I had been carrying. One end of it was sort of pulverized from being under a wheel of the car as it came to a stop. I guess I was lucky to be all right. I didn't even have a headache.

My parents were pretty shook up by the accident, and they just wanted to forget it. They didn't tell anyone about it as far as I know. I doubt that some of the neighbors even knew that I'd been run over. This put a stop to me running to the mail box to get ahead of the mail carrier, and I got a lecture on stopping at the road and looking both ways.

Many years later, in 1945, I was returning from a carrier aircraft service unit in the Pacific. After landing in San Francisco, I rode the Santa Fe railroad to Kansas City. When I got to the Union Station, I went to pick up my luggage, but it hadn't arrived. I had my ditty bag with me, and it contained all of the toilet articles like shaving gear and a toothbrush. The sea bag which was missing was packed tightly with a hundred pounds of clothes. I had plenty of clothes at home, and I knew I could pick up the bag when I came back a month later, but I was afraid I would be charged a fee for storage. The baggage man said that he understood my situation because he had a son in the service. He wrote down my name, and said that he would kill the charge when it came in.

I walked out of the Union Station, and at that time, there was no problem for a service man in uniform to hitch a ride. My parents lived between Preston and Hermitage on the Ralph Nevins farm (Ralph's daughter, Kathleen, still owns the farm). I got several rides, and my last ride ended up in Warsaw. I started walking again, and before I got to the bridge over the Osage, a car stopped with an elderly couple in the car, and it was Sam Edde and his wife. Sam was retired then, but when I told him my name, he remembered me. He took me to Preston. I mentioned that I could walk the rest of the way, but he wouldn't let me walk. He took me all the way home. This was the last time that I ever saw Sam Edde, the old mail carrier. I was tempted to ask Sam whether he had ever known about my accident, but I never did.

Many years have passed, but I still remind myself to look both ways before I walk out on the road.
(Typed for the Henthorn/Bolerjack project by Diane (Black) Wilson.)

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Email Dick Henthorn: Rhenthorn1@aol.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorRun.txt

Grandpa and the Oyster Can

Grandpa and the Oyster Can

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

27 May 1993

This story concerns an 1890 wagon trip from east of Preston, MO to Collins, MO. The purpose of the trip was to take John Hire to see his parents, Jimmy and India Hire, and his younger sister, Ollie [Olivia, REH]. John had never seen his sister. Young John, as a baby, needed extra care, so from infancy he was raised by his grandparents, Achilles and Samantha (Bullard) Morgan. He was related to Samantha through her first marriage to Joseph Wilson Hires.

The grandparents had never been to Collins, but they knew that it was west along what now is Highway 54. John was excited about going on such a long trip. He was only about 4 years old. The day before, Grandpa Achilles put the hoops on the wagon and spread the canvas cover over them. Before good daylight they were up, packed the wagon with feed for the horses and for the people, and also put in camping gear. About sunup they started out.

Covered wagon travel by that year did not mean watching for Indians but it did mean worrying for fear the metal rim would work off one of the wooden wheels. It that happened you took the wheel to a creek to soak in the water so it would swell enough to keep the rim on.

Grandpa Achilles was crippled so he really dreaded having to repair a wheel. Just driving was hard for him sitting on the hard wooden wagon seat for hours and hours. At noon they stopped to eat lunch. They fed and watered the horses and let them graze a bit. Even though John was excited about seeing his parents and his younger sister he probably got tired and cranky on the long trip. Perhaps he napped in the afternoon as the horses steadily went westward.

Late in the day, after going mile after mile across the prairie land they came to Little Weaubleau Creek. They decided to camp rather than risk being caught away from water at sundown. The wagon pulled off the road. The horses were unhitched, watered, and fed. A fire was kindled so Grandma Samantha could warm the food and make coffee for Grandpa Achilles. Grandpa liked coffee with nearly every meal. They bedded down in the wagon bed.

Before daylight they ate breakfast and hitched up the horses. Slowly the wagon was pulled up the hill out of the creek bottom. It crested the hill and there just ahead was Collins! They could have made it there before sundown the day before. Everyone laughed a good deal about that.

The 28 1/2 mill trip from just east of Preston to Collins, that today takes such a short time, took all of one day. The long trip was worth it though. They all were so delighted to see each other. Jimmy Hire took his son by the hand and took him the few blocks from his house to downtown Collins. He was proud of his son and wanted to buy something special for dinner to celebrate the visit. He bought a can of oysters to make soup with. That was a really special treat. (Note: Oyster cans in 1890 were much larger than an oyster can in 1993).

India took special care opening up that oyster can. She wanted the edge smooth and not too sharp. She washed it very clean and then gave it to her son, John. John turned it in his hand noticing the shine. He dropped it and it rolled making an interesting sound on the wooden floor. He took it outside and rolled it on the grass. It didn't sound the same. On rocks it made a different sound. If he threw it down hard it's sound was loud and sharp. A spoon against it's side made another sound. What a fascinating toy for the young boy. It may have been his first real toy.

The next morning they took a long time to say "Good Bye." It was hard to leave and tears were shed. They started well after daylight, a very late start.

They stopped for lunch again. Then the horses plodded on. It got dark before they reached Preston. Achilles kept driving wanting to get home that night. Soon all but Achilles were asleep. John bedded down behind the wagon seat clutching his toy oyster can tightly. As the wagon started down a long hill a wagon wheel rim fell off with a great clatter. John woke with a start. He screamed, "Grandpa, Grandpa, my oyster can has fallen out. I can hear it on the rocks." Grandpa answered, "I sure wish it was your oyster can."

In later years, Thomas W. Morgan told this story often when he visited Jimmy Hire and this was always the end of the story. Thomas Clifford Morgan believes they probably got home that night. They always carried a lantern and enough water to soak the wheel so the rim would be on tight again.

******

Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorOys.txt

Mahala Morgan's Petticoat and the Civil War

Mahala Morgan's Petticoat

and the

Civil War

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

10 July 1994

This Civil War story was told to T. Clifford Morgan by Elias Padget, who had heard it countless times as told by his mother, Saraphine Morgan Padget. T. Clifford Morgan had also heard it told by his father, Thomas Wilson Morgan.

The passage of time has caused the exact date of the encounter to be lost, but T. Clifford Morgan believes it to be in the year 1861. In that year, Mahala Morgan's son, Henderson was 3 years old and her daughter, Rosetta, was 1 year old. Mahala's husband, Sylvester Morgan was the first child of Thomas Scott Morgan and Brooky Kyger Morgan.

One of the greatest worries of a young wife during the Civil Way was that her husband would be killed and she would be left a widow with young children.

Any movement of men across Hickory County Missouri was suspected to be armed rebels unless proved otherwise. On this particular day a man galloped up to Morgan's to warn Thomas Scott Morgan that a large group of men were approaching from Dallas County. They seemed to be headed for the Morgan farm, which was about 3 miles east of Black Oak Point (Later called Preston).

Tom Morgan dispatched his sons to alert the neighbors and ask them to tell others. In a short time, a large company of men assembled at Morgan's. They were deployed south of the farm buildings along a wagon road behind fences and trees. With guns drawn they awaited the intruders. It was the Civil War custom to challenge any group of unknown men. Each side would send out a man. Thus they would determine if they were friend or foe.

Mahala watched but did not see a meeting of men between the two forces. She scouted around the Union line for a look at the opposing force, which had dismounted to form a rough line between trees. She recognized a Union man in the opposing group. Wasting no time she hid behind a large tree. Quickly, she took off her dress and her white petticoat. Then she put her dress back on.

Waving her white petticoat above her head, she ran screaming as loud as she could, right between the opposing battle lines. Tom Morgan, as the leader of the home group, strode out to meet the leader of the strange group. This man turned out to be E.M. Padget of Dallas County, a good friend of Morgan's and grandfather of Elias Padget, who years later told T. Clifford Morgan this story.

Sometimes these chance encounters turned into a bloody battle. All it took was one man with an itchy trigger finger and the battle would begin. By World War II getting killed in this type of encounter was termed, "killed by friendly fire."

Sylvester and Mahala Morgan moved their young family to Vermilion County, Illinois in the summer of 1862. He enlisted in the 125th Illinois Volunteer Infantry on August 10, 1862. He survived the war and they had eight children. Mahala Morgan lived until 1924, and she probably never forgot the day, when as a young woman, she used her white petticoat to stop a Civil War encounter.

When he was a grown man, Henderson Morgan, the oldest child of Sylvester and Mahala returned to Hickory County, Missouri and for many years operated the Morgan Hotel on the east side of the square in Hermitage, Missouri.

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Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorMaha

Water Mill at Grape Creek, Vermilion Co., Illinois

Water Mill at Grape Creek, Vermilion Co., Illinois

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

A mill was built about three fourths of a mile from Grape Creek on the bank of the Vermilion River in Vermilion County, Illinois. It was built by William Sheets and his brother-in-law, Thomas Scott Morgan. They had married sisters, daughters of Daniel and Ann (Henthorn) Kyger. William Sheets married Elizabeth Kyger on September 3, 1829 and Thomas Morgan married Brooky Kyger on February 20, 1834. In 1835 at the start of building the mill and the dam across the Vermilion River Sheets was 27 years old and Morgan 25.

The mill commenced grinding in 1834. It was known for a number of years as the Morgan and Sheets Mill. In connection with their grist mill they erected a saw mill and a distillery. The mill had customers for 40 miles around. They started with one run of stone but soon had enough business to add a second stone.

In 1850, Henry T. Kyger, son of John Kyger, bought the mill. In 1865, he formed a partnership with his brothers, Daniel and Tilmon and they made improvements to the mill at a cost of about $8000. In 1873, Daniel Kyger took full charge of the mill operation.

The huge grist mill ground corn and wheat night and day for more than sixty years. Power to run the grinding stones and saw mill was furnished by twin turbine wheels driven by water impounded in a huge fore bay or mill race. Water was forced into the latter by a dam built across the river at a right angle to the mill.

Lumber was cut by a gate saw fitted into a huge frame about 8 feet high and six feet wide. The saw mill turned out about 2000 feet of lumber a day. The price of sawing was 50 cents per 100 feet or a share.

Other buildings used in the mill business included a mill barn to house horses and oxen, a cooperage for making barrels to ship flour, a wheat granary, and a barracks for the mill hands. The customers who came for many miles had to wait their turn.

The mill continued in operation until about 1900 when the building weakened by age fell of its own weight into the Vermilion River.

Tradition says that Thomas S. Morgan was arrested on a complaint of men who wanted to use flatboats on the Big Vermilion river and objected to the dam at the Grape Creek mill. Morgan secured Abraham Lincoln to defend him when the case came up for trial at Danville. When the case was called, Lincoln asked the judge if the Big Vermilion River was considered a navigable river by the court. The judge replied that it was. Lincoln requested that the case be dismissed as the State of Illinois had no jurisdiction over navigable rivers and it was therefore a concern of the federal government. The court dismissed the case.

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Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorGrapc.txt

The Old Georgetown, Illinois Steam Flour Mill

The Old Georgetown, Illinois Steam Flour Mill

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

In 1849, William Sheets, Thomas Scott Morgan and the Kyger brothers, Daniel and Henry T. commenced the construction of the first steam flour mill in Vermilion County at Georgetown, Illinois. All of these men were related by blood or marriage. The mother of the Kyger brothers was Mary (Sheets) Kyger, wife of John Kyger. She was also sister of William Sheets. William Sheets married Elizabeth Kyger and Thomas S. Morgan married her sister Brooky Kyger. The Kyger sisters were the aunts of Daniel and Henry T. Kyger.

Building this mill was a large undertaking and several thousand man hours went into the project. Some men sold their share and Nathaniel Henderson and his son were taken into the partnership. The mill was finished in 1850 by Daniel Kyger, Thomas S. Morgan and Nathaniel Henderson and his son at a cost of about $6000.

The mill was quite large, 40 x 50, with three run of stone. The first story was built of timbers 14" square, the second story of timbers 12" square, the third story timbers were 10" square, and the fourth floor had 8" square timbers. The framing was under the direction of Nathaniel Henderson. The siding was of black walnut and the flooring of black oak. The insidework, millwrighting, etc. was in charge of Martin Moudy of Springfield.

The steam power drove the pin cog and wooden gear. At one point in setting up the machinery, the millwright was unable to figure out how to assemble the machinery. At this point Morgan asked young Daniel Kyger if he could set up the machinery. Daniel was 21 years old at the time. Daniel replied that he thought that he could and he proceeded to set up the steam machinery.

The three pair of millstones were each four feet in diameter. Two were for wheat and one for corn.

When the day arrived, in 1850, when the mill was completed and the machinery was to be tried out the news spread throughout Georgetown and most of the county. It was dark by the time the last minute adjustments were completed and the boiler was fired. People crowded the mill to see the building and the machinery. A lot of boys crowded into the engine room to see the most interesting part of all the mill, the steam engine. The man firing the boiler got up too much steam and the relief valve suddenly started popping off steam. Many boys got knocked down and run over as the crowd made a wild break for the door.

The mill was an instant success and drew customers from miles around. Much of the flour was shipped on flatboats to New Orleans. The flatboat would be sold in New Orleans for lumber and the man that took the flatboat downstream would return as far as possible by steamboat.

There were many curiosities about the old mill. The greatest of them all was Morgan himself, who could laugh a customer into and out of the mill again without any resting place.

Many stories have been told about the old mill, some are as follows:

One day a man doing repairs fell off the roof of the mill. He fell on the back of one of the hogs that were kept to eat waste grain from the mill. The man walked away but the hog had a broken back.

The mill consumed a lot of water and a cistern was dug to store water to assure a steady supply for the boiler. The cistern was close to the door of the engine room and was nearly ten feet across.

At the time the mill first opened steam power was new in Vermilion County and many people were afraid of the steam engine, with all of the heat and noise. One day a negro came to the mill and the men noticed that he was afraid of the noise from the engine room. They decided to have some fun out of him and told him that they had engine trouble and needed help to lift the engine. He took his place near the engine as the men pretended to get ready to lift it. At the moment that the signal to lift was given one man pulled the steam whistle and the negro made a wild break for safety and jumped the cistern near the door, as the men doubled up laughing. After getting over his fright, the man came back and peeping around the door he said, "Thought you would scare me, did you?"

At a time when Thomas Morgan was short of bed room space they decided to let his two oldest boys, Achilles and Sylvester, sleep in the office room of the mill. All went well and the boys enjoyed staying up late in Georgetown and going to bed when they wanted to. One night Achilles heard a noise late in the night and woke up Sylvester to ask him what it was. They decided it was someone trying to break into the mill and they made a hurried trip home through a light snow that had fallen while they were asleep. They failed to worry their father about the burglar and on their return to the mill the next morning they found that their tracks were the only ones made in the fresh snow. Their father laughed at the boys being scared by rats. Sylvester didn't get over his scare easily and refused to go back to the mill to sleep after that.

The old mill changed ownership and names many times. In 1854, Daniel Kyger and Nathaniel Henderson and sons went to Danville to start erection of the Danville Steam Flour Mill. In 1857, Thomas S. Morgan sold his interest and went west to Hickory County, Missouri. Other owners have been M.M. Wright, C.B. Spang and Star among others. By 1970, the old mill had been just a memory for many years and a used car lot was on the ground where the mill once stood.

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Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorGeorg.txt

Morgan and the Death Squad

MORGAN AND THE DEATH SQUAD

by

T. Clifford Morgan

(Great-grandson of Thomas Scott Morgan)

Warsaw, MO

Thomas Scott Morgan had moved to Missouri as a strong supporter of Abe Lincoln. His support of Lincoln and his belief that the union of the states should be preserved soon got him into trouble with supporters of Gov. Claiborne Jackson.

After the union defeat at Wilson's Creek, many union men were shot by bushwhackers and many homes burned. It was during this time, that Morgan was in the greatest danger. One day, a large group of mounted and armed men rode into Morgan's yard. With guns drawn, they yelled for Morgan to come out. Phoebe and the young children wanted Morgan to hide somewhere. Instead, Morgan walked out on the upstairs porch. He gave the Masonic sign that he was in distress. It seemed that the leader of the rebels happened to be a Mason and this saved Morgan's life. The rebel leader yelled "Don't shoot that man, if he is shot, I will shoot the man that shoots him." He lowered his gun and galloped his horse out the yard gate. His men followed and they quickly disappeared in
to the timber.

His wife asked him, "Why did the men ride away without any shooting?" Morgan's reply was, "I guess that they changed their minds." He never disclosed any secrets of the Masonic Fraternity.
(Typed for the Henthorn/Bolerjack project by Diane (Black) Wilson.)

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Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorDeath.txt

The Road to Cross Timbers

THE ROAD TO CROSS TIMBERS

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

1997

It was only eight and one half miles, but it seemed that it would never end. It was a hot July day. July in Missouri is always hot, but on this day the sun seemed to be baking the road. The soles on my worn out shoes were so thin that my young feet felt the heat and also each rough place on the road. The walking was much worse for Papa. He was almost sixty two years old, broken in health by the years of hard farm work. The Great Depression, the years of drought, and the blinding dust storms had aged him in spirit and body. Now he was plagued by a left foot painfully swollen by gout. Because he was unable to wear his shoe, Mama had bandaged his foot and made a denim cover for the bandage. Sometimes he would gasp with pain and I kept being afraid that he would give up the trip to Cross Timbers and turn back.

The year was 1936 and I was seventeen years of age. The week before the trip, I had read in the county newspaper, that a county case-worker would be at Cross Timbers the next Monday to accept applications from boys age seventeen and older to enroll in the Civilian Conservation Corps camp at Kaiser, Missouri. It seemed to be a glimmer of hope for me and I asked Papa if I could enroll. He didn't like the idea but he had just about run out of options. The corn crop was dying in the drought, droves of grasshoppers were eating up the pasture, and the mortgage payments were in arrears. Another disaster had hit, Lois, our oldest horse died, and now we didn't have a team for farm work or for going to town in the farm wagon.

I had dreams as a boy of going to college as my cousin Elmer had. He became a geology professor at the University of Texas. I had graduated from eighth grade at the head of my class, but there was no money for my sister, Odessa Mae or me to continue in school. I had looked forward to getting married some day, but probably, no girl would marry a poverty stricken farm boy like me.

It took us about two and one half hours to walk to Cross Timbers on that hot July day in 1936. There was very little traffic and no one offered us a ride in their Ford Model A. We arrived tired and very thirsty. After filling out a lot of paper work, Papa signed an agreement for his son to go to the Kaiser CCC camp. I believe that he felt that I was too young to leave home.

In the CCC, we built roads with pick and shovel, fought forest fires, worked rock quarries and built park buildings in the Lake of the Ozarks State Park. I soon got a job as a tool clerk. One evening a week I attended night class and this started me on a road to recover time lost from school. Twenty five dollars each month was sent home to my parents and I received five to spend. Remembering the dark days of the great Depression, I tried to save some money each month.

My life since the days of 1936 have not always been easy days. I have milked cows, pitched hay in 100 degree temperature, picked cotton and somehow survived a five day raging storm while on a destroyer in the Pacific in WWII. Some time later, I survived the stress of a large company that tried to make life so unbearably hard for their older employees that they would quit, and many did quit. Those that did quit had not walked the road to Cross Timbers as I had. The days of the Great Depression had served to make a man out of the boy. The trials that seemed so vast to some of my friends have sometimes been small trials to me.

Today in the twilight of my life, I have a wonderful wife, children, and a grandson. I have everything that I ever dreamed of because of the road to Cross Timbers sixty one years ago.
(Typed for the Henthorn/Bolerjack project by Diane (Black) Wilson.)

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Email Dick Henthorn: Rhenthorn1@aol.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorCross.txt

Memories of World War II

Memories of World War II

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

I probably have a thousand different memories of the war, but briefly they are:

PEARL HARBOR

I was farming 160 acres north of Cross Timbers in Benton County, MO, when on this Sunday morning, a neighbor came over and told us that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. One of the many changes that the war made in my life was that I would never return to full time farming again. Much news of the disaster was kept from the public. One of the enlisted men that was on over-night leave from the U.S.S. Arizona, hurried back to find the battleship sunk. He stood helpless on the dock as divers tried to reach men trapped inthe ship. The divers could hear men pounding on the compartments, but couldn't reach them.

THE NAVY

After making a crop in 1942, I enlisted in the Navy in Springfield, Missouri. Then I went to boot camp at Great Lakes for thirty days. The Navy gave enlistees a battery of tests and selected those making the top scores to go to aviation school.

THE NAVY SCHOOLS

Navy Pier Chicago - I was here for six months, taking a general course in all phases of airplane maintenance and repair. I received liberty on weekend days until midnight. During these weekends, I spent much time at the Art Gallery, Field Museum of Natural History, The Museum of Science and Industry, the USO, The Servicemen's Center, and the parks of Chicago, especially Grant Park and Garfield Park. The Chicago and the State-Lake theaters had live stage shows and I enjoyed seeing Roy Rogers and his horse and also Hildegard. Bing Crosby was the Master of Ceremonies at American Day at Soldiers Field. Servicemen were able to ride public street cars free.

87th Anthony in Chicago - Advanced Navy School - Those in the top ten percent of their class went on to this school. I took aircraft hydraulics there for three months. This was a new school, the food was the best and the instruction was good. During the time there, I was able to attend live broadcasts of the WLS National Barn Dance. I also attended dances at the beautiful Aragon and Trinon ballrooms.

THE TRIP TO THE PACIFIC

After graduation, I was able to spend a few days at home. Then I took the Santa Fe to San Francisco to await overseas transportation. While there, I worked in the legal office for a Lieut. Williams and took some Red Cross tours of the Bay area. I sailed on a destroyer, the U.S. Bronson, which was later sunk by a submarine. The passengers slept on the gun decks with no blankets. During a bad two day storm, I slept with my arm around a steel post to keep from rolling when the ship was tossed by the waves. We sailed past Diamond Head and docked at Ford Island not far from the sunken Arizona. I took a sea-going tug to Kahului, Maui. This took all day, and after dark the tug tied up alongside a tall ocean liner. We had to carry a hundred pounds of gear up a rope ladder to the top of the liner, then down another rope ladder to the deck.

CARRIER AIRCRAFT SERVICE UNIT#32

I checked in at the air base and was assigned to a barracks and issued bedding and a mosquito net which was badly needed if you were to get any sleep. Next day I was assigned to the hydraulic shop and worked the line checking planes for hydraulic leaks. Later, I was in charge of the repair of hydraulic units and operated the test bench. Most of the planes were F6F fighter planes and TBM Torpedo Bombers. While we repaired and maintained the planes, the pilots trained and then the squadrons would return to the carriers to relieve those squadrons that needed rotation.

The group that returned from the stricken Enterprise was the worst in plane damage and the morale of the men.

LIBERTY

On liberty days, I took the scenic ocean drive along the coast to the old whaling town of Lahaina. I took trips to Wailuku, and took two trips to Haleakala Crater. This mountain is 10,032 feet high and the crater is 2,000 feet deep. I walked to the bottom of the crater, but hurried back as the clouds started to roll in.

ENTERTAINMENT

The USO brought Bob Hope and his show to Maui, also Betty Hutton and her show. The Navy sent their All-Star baseball team and I especially enjoyed seeing School Boy Rowe of the Detroit Tigers. He had pitched in a World Series game against Dizzy Dean. Gene Tunney came to referee a boxing match.

THE WAR ENDS

As the war was winding down, I got on rotation list to return to the states for more advanced school in hydraulics. Then came that day when I was working on rotation number had come up. The return trip was by plane to Ford Island, then to San Francisco on an escort carrier. There were no storms at sea this time, just flying fish to watch, and we slept on cots on the flight deck.
(Source: Written by T. Clifford Morgan, Warsaw, MO, 50 years after the war)

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Email: Dick.Henthorn@gmail.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorCliff.txt

Bushwhackers Found Death on Military Road

Bushwhackers Found Death on Military Road

by

T. Clifford Morgan

Warsaw, MO

22 Feb 1991

When I travel the roads of Benton County, MO, I am aware that sometimes I am on sections of the old military road. Both Union and Confederate armies traveled this road during the Civil War. Sometimes they would camp in the valley of Duran Creek, below the hill where Russell Johnson now lives. The armies would break camp early in the morning and continue on to Warsaw and the ferries on the Osage.

The Civil War caused a breakdown of law enforcement in the border states and peaceful people were plagued by outlaws who would roam the country to kill, rob, and to plunder. Sometimes these outlaws were called bushwhackers, which was probably a good name for them. My great grandfather, Thomas S. Morgan, was ambushed on the old military road by two bushwhackers and in a fight for his life, he killed the two men.

To understand how Morgan survived the ambush, you would need to know his background as a strong, determined, and resourceful man. He was born in Virginia in that part that is now West Virginia. As a boy, he was strong and healthy and learned to swim the swift cold waters of the Mononghalia. He walked the area where his ancestor, David, had fought a hand to hand combat with two Indians. They had tried to tomahawk two of David's children. David, too, was a determined man. Each time that the Indians would burn his cabin, he would build it back.

When Thomas S. Morgan was a young man, his parents moved the family west to Illinois, where he was a soldier in the Black Hawk War. He married Brooky Kyger in Vermilion County, IL and soon formed a partnership with his brother-in-law to do what nobody believed possible; to build a dam of rock and dirt across the Big Vermilion River. With a lot of help from the pioneers of the county, they built the dam and the mill that served customers for forty miles around and ran day and night.

The dam greatly angered a group of flatboaters. They had Morgan arrested for building a dam across the river. The case came up for trial in Danville. At that time, Abe Lincoln was a circuit riding lawyer, who had attracted Morgan's attention. Lincoln agreed to represent him in the case. When the case was called, Lincoln asked the court for an opinion as to the river being navigable. The judge ruled that it was a navigable river, which greatly pleased the flatboaters. Lincoln then moved that the case be dismissed since a state court had no jurisdiction over navigable rivers. The case was dismissed and never pursued in Federal court.

Years later, his yen to go west again caused Morgan to move to Hickory County, Missouri. The Civil War clouds were looming on the horizon and his support for Lincoln caused him to be labeled by those of the southern side as a "Black Republican." He made friends easily and had many friends among the Southerners.

Morgan acquired 1200 acres of farm land and built a two-story farm house east of Preston, MO. Morgan had become intrigued by steam power so at a spring site on what is F highway, he built a steam mill, a distillery and large granaries for wheat and corn. He had lost his first wife in Illinois and had married Phoebe Lightner. He was father to seventeen children and some of his sons worked in the mill and helped farm.

In 1861, the mill and distillery were robbed by bushwhackers, who came from as far away as Warsaw, to haul away his grain by the wagon load. Morgan closed the mill for the duration of the war. His friends were able to provide him with a list of the names of all those that robbed the mill.

Many times, he was called to do errands for those afraid to venture out in those dangerous times. On one occasion, a union army camped on a farmer's land. The farm's stacks of oat and timothy hay were fed to the horses and the army moved on leaving the farmer without any feed. The desperate farmer came to see Morgan, who took his fastest horse and galloped after the army. Fifty miles away, he caught up with the army and got the pay for the farmer's hay.

In 1862, Morgan started on an errand to Versailles in Morgan County, going by way of Warsaw and the old military road. He took one of his farm wagons and his best team of horses. In the wagon was feed for the horses and in a cannon ball box was some food. This cannon ball box from Fremont's army is now in the Benton County Museum in Warsaw. Also, hidden in the wagon near the seat was an 1851 Navy Colt. Morgan was a marksman and owned several guns, but the Colt seemed to be his favorite. At Warsaw, he stayed overnight with a friend and his family. As he left the next morning, his friend warned him to be very careful. Due to ill feeling created by General Fremont's destruction of Warsaw the year before, travel in the area was unsafe for union people.

Morgan continued on his way, but he wasn't many miles out of Warsaw, when an incident increased his fears. Being every watchful, he had noticed a lone horseman galloping his horse far behind on the road. He stopped the wagon, but when he looked back, the horse and rider had disappeared. Some minutes later, the sound of galloping in the timber told Morgan that the rider didn't want to be seen. Morgan now feared an ambush was in the making. This fear was increased when some time later, the horse and rider appeared again on the road far ahead. Before long, Morgan encountered another problem. He met a group of armed and unfriendly men, who demanded to know if he was union or southern. Morgan answered that he was union, and the leader of the group ordered him to get out of the wagon. They did a quick search of the wagon, took nothing, but spent some time looking over the team of horses. Unharnessing the best horse, they took the horse and rode on toward Warsaw.

Morgan started to Versailles and he intended to do just that. He held up the wagon tongue and coaxed his remaining horse to pull the wagon to a secluded spot from the road. He unharnessed the horse, and took a blanket from the wagon for a saddle. He decided that it was time to put the Colt in his pocket. He proceeded on his way, knowing that a possible ambush was still ahead. Quite some distance down the road, he neared a creek where the postoaks grew tall and thick. Among the dense trees, almost hidden, were two men on horseback. They had rifles cradled in their arms. Morgan knew that this was the ambush, but he hoped that his change from a wagon to a horse would help him. The men road quickly to block his path and Morgan turned his horse slightly to conceal the gun in his picket. The man that seemed to be the leader asked Morgan if he was union or southern. Morgan gave his usual reply that he was union. At this point, the leader grinned broadly. He waved his gun barrel toward a jagged oak that had been damaged by lightning. He ordered Morgan to dismount and walk over to that jagged oak. Morgan noticed that both men had their rifles ready to fire. He mustered all the speed that an old man could muster, and slid off his horse on the side away from the men. As he dismounted, he whipped out the Colt and fired one shot at each man. Both men tumbled to the ground and laid still.

When Morgan told the story to his family later, he stated that the had intended to run for his life, if the Colt had misfired. Morgan quickly scanned the woods for other men and then reloaded. He hitched his horse to the jagged oak and then made friends of the horses that the ambushers had ridden. When he had selected the best saddle, he put it on his own horse. He selected the best of their two horses and hitched it to the oak. With the saddle and the bridle off of the lesser of the two horses, he waved his arms at the horse and told it to go home. Riding his horse and leading the other, he journeyed back to where he had left the wagon to find it still intact. When he had harnessed the horses, he started once more to Versailles.

As he neared the ambush area, he approached the scene with caution. Seeing one man move, he stopped and getting out of the wagon walked to the man who was suffering greatly. He was the man who had grinned when Morgan said that he was union. He seemed to be trying to say that he was sorry. Morgan examined the man's wound and decided that the wound would be fatal and more time would only add to his suffering. He told the man, "You men were very foolish to do what you tried to do in the way you tried to do it." Morgan took his crumpled handkerchief from his pocket; stretched it; folded it; and laid it across the poor man's eyes. He walked to the wagon and got the Colt and returned to end the man's suffering.

His trip to Versailles was without further incident. After two days in Versailles, Morgan started the tiresome wagon trip home. When he arrived at the scene of the ambush, he recognized the jagged postoak. he stopped the wagon briefly and surveyed the scene of the encounter. The bodies were gone, and so were the rifles, the saddle and the bridle.

The terrible war lasted three more years. When peace was declared, Morgan bought grain and started the mill again. He let bygones be bygones. At one time, he bought a load of grain from one of the men who had robbed his mill. He was elected judge of the county court. The job of judge, running the mill, and operating a 1200 acre farm didn't keep him from starting on a new project.

During the war, he had decided to dam the Big Niangua River in Camden County and build a mill there. The river took a meander of seven miles in a horseshoe bend, known as the Whitworth bend, and came back within one quarter mile of the starting point. A high hill of limestone rock was at the base of the bend. He bought the land and proposed to blast a tunnel under the hill, build a mill at the lower side, and then build a dam to force water through the tunnel. Nobody in those days believed that his plan would work. Using black powder to blast the rock and men to carry out the rock, he completed the tunnel.

In the hot July of 1869 he commenced the mill. With four men cutting trees, he hewed the logs for the mill. The pace that he worked at was far too much for an old man. Before the two-story mill was completed, he collapsed. His sons hauled him home in a wagon and sent for the doctor. The doctor checked him and shook his head, saying that this man is too far gone. Morgan then wanted to make a will, but when the notary arrived, he too shook his head. The next morning, the sands of time ran out for the old miller. That night, one of the largest crowds of men every assembled in Starks Township, came to pay final respects to the man who wasn't afraid of a shadow.

At the sale of his personal estate, one of the horses sold, was the horse Morgan had confiscated from the two bushwhackers in Benton County. Among the firearms sold was the 1851 Navy Colt that killed the bushwhackers. About a hundred years after the sale, this author was able to buy the gun from the grandson of the purchaser. It is now resting in a safe deposit box. The old cannon ball box that carried provisions is resting in the Benton County Museum. Maybe it is proper that these two reminders of the wagon trip on the old military road should remain in the county.

(Source: Benton County ..., 20 Feb 1992) The newspaper editor wrote an "Editor's Note" which Clifford cautions was not correct where it stated that Levi Morgan served as an officer on the staff of General Robert E. Lee. The correct information, Clifford stated, was that Levi Morgan's oldest son was in General Lee's guard and he didn't know if he was an officer. The note follows:

(Editor's Note: The following article is the winner of a contest on historical events in Benton County, MO sponsored by the county historical society. T. Clifford Morgan's great grandfather, Thomas S. Morgan, was a Union sympathizer. However, two of his brothers were members of the Confederacy with one, Levi Morgan, serving as an officer on the staff of General Robert E. Lee. The Navy Colt .36 caliber revolver mentioned is owned by Morgan and has his great grandfather's name on the trigger guard. Morgan, age 72, grew up near Preston and moved to the Warsaw area after retiring from General Motors in 1979.) A photo of Clifford and grandson, Dan Marshall, looking at the revolver, accompanied the article.

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Email Dick Henthorn: Rhenthorn1@aol.com
Posted: 23 Sep 2009
File: MorBush.txt