Zincite, Missouri

One of the aspects of local or regional history that I've always found fascinating is learning about towns or communities that once flourished but that either no longer exist or are merely a shell of what they used to be. Jasper County, Missouri, has more than its share of such places because of its history as a mining district. A lot of places popped up during the mining boom of the late 1800s, flourished for a while, and then petered out when the ore was depleted. Zincite was one such place. I think I've probably mentioned Zincite previously at one time or another on this blog, but I don't think I've ever gone into much detail about it.
A mining camp called Belleville (aka Belville or Bellville) sprang up in the early 1880s about five miles northwest of Joplin. The camp was named after the mining superintendent who developed the land. However, when a town was laid out and a post office acquired, both were named Zincite, after the ore that was mined there. Zincite grew rapidly to a population of more than 1,000 people. In 1886 a newspaper called the Zincite Morning Star was started, and at one time the town boasted three fraternal lodges, two churches, several businesses, a playhouse with a seating capacity of 400 people, and a school. The town's heyday lasted about twenty years, before declining during the first decade of the 1900s. By the time Joel Livingston wrote his History of Jasper County in 1912, Zincite was "only a hamlet." I think the Zincite School lasted into the early 1950s, when residents voted to consolidate with Carl Junction, but Zincite as a town was pretty much nonexistent by then.
Where exactly was Zincite? Livingston gives the location as just southwest of "old Sherwood." Sherwood, which was wiped off the face of the map during the Civil War, was located at the intersection of present-day JJ Highway and Fir Road. Whether Livingston's description of Zincite's location is accurate or not depends on what one interprets "just" to mean. If one reads "just" to mean "adjacent to," then the description is misleading, but if "just" means a couple of miles away, it's a pretty accurate description. Zincite was, in fact, located on Turkey Creek about two or two and half miles southwest of old Sherwood. To access this area today, one would take Highway P west off JJ Highway or Malang Road north off Belle Center Road. If you take Malang Road north to Foxtrot Lane and then go almost as far north as you can go before the road dead-ends at Turkey Creek, you'll be near a place called the Old Haunted Belleville Cave, which functions today as a haunted house during Halloween season (or at least it did the last I knew). This cave pretty much marks the spot of old Zincite, although I think the town was primarily on the north side of Turkey Creek. Mining took place on both sides of the creek. 
I recently ran onto an 1887 article in the St. Louis Globe Democrat (you never know where things are going to turn up), which said the land around where Zincite later sprang up was actually worked briefly as a mining field in 1877 but that it was soon deserted and not worked again in earnest until the boom of the early 1800s. At the time of the Globe-Democrat article, Zincite was adding 200 tons of zinc ore a week to the Joplin mining district's output. By 1889, that output had increased to about 637,510 pounds or well over 300 tons. There were a few weeks during the boom when the Zincite mines led all the camps of the Joplin district.

Construction of Fellow's Lake

I vaguely remember when Fellow's Lake north of Springfield was built. My father took me out there while construction was still going on when I was about eight on nine years old, which would have made it late 1954 or, more likely, sometime during 1955. There was no water in the lake yet, but I remember my dad pointing out that this was where the lake was going to be and I believe there was some heavy equipment working on site at the time. As I recall, this was just shortly before the lake was filled when the Little Sac River was diverted back to its natural course.
The Ozarks were plagued by drought during the early 1950s, and in early 1954 the City of Springfield asked permission from the State of Missouri to build a second water reservoir to supplement the city's main water source, McDaniel Lake. The proposed lake, to be called Fellows Lake, was needed because the drought had left McDaniel Lake dangerously low and because of the anticipated growth of Springfield. McDaniel Lake was located on the Little Sac River just north of Springfield, and the new lake would be built about five and a half miles upstream on the same river. Cost was estimated at about $2,350,000. It was anticipated that the new lake would cover about 1,160 acres when fully inundated, but another 2,000 acres would be needed for the project so as to protect the property of surrounding land owners and to prevent erosion and pollution. The dam itself would rise 104 feet above the bed of the Little Sac and would stretch 1,820 feet across the river valley. Fellows Lake would be able to store up to nine billion gallons of water, which was almost seven times the capacity of McDaniel Lake.
The new lake was authorized on April 1, 1954, and work began shortly afterward. However, there were serious questions as to whether the new lake would be completed in time to alleviate Springfield's worsening water shortage. In the spring or early summer, a temporary pumping station was installed on the James River south of town, but it did little to ease the problem. (In 1957, Lake Springfield was built on the James as a primary water source for Springfield.) Then, later in the summer of '54, work began on six deep wells to supplement the water of McDaniel Lake until Fellows Lake could be completed, with the stipulation that the project could be halted if significant rains came. The rains finally did come in the fall of  '54 after three wells had been completed, and the other three were never drilled.
Fellows Lake was completed in the late summer or the fall of 1955 and dedicated on November 11 of that year. By February 7, 1956, Fellows Lake was supplying 750,000 gallons of water a day to Springfield.

The Rev. S. S. Headlee Again

I've previously written on this blog and elsewhere about the murder of S. S. Headlee. In fact, I think this is the fourth time I've written about the subject either directly or indirectly on this blog, and I've also published both an article and a chapter in one of my books about it. So, it's a subject I seem to keep coming back to. Part of the reason for that is simply that it's a fascinating subject, in that it illustrates better than almost any other incident I can think of the lingering bitterness that existed between Union and Confederate sympathizers in the wake of the Civil War, particularly in Missouri. But another reason for my continuing interest in the subject is that I seem to keep running on to little tidbits about it that I had not previously been aware of. Which brings me to today's blog entry.
Rev. Headlee, a strong Confederate sympathizer, was murdered on July 28, 1866, for attempting to preach at the Pleasant View Church in northwest Webster County by Union sympathizers who held possession of the church. Before the war the church had been affiliated with the Methodist Episcopal Church South, and that body still held title to the building. However, the war had caused a split in the church, and most of the congregants eventually aligned themselves with the Methodist Episcopal Church (North). By the end of the war, the Pleasant View Church was firmly in the hands of the northern contingent. Headlee, though, determined to re-establish a presence at Pleasant View for the M. E. Church South, if not regain outright possession of it. He was warned by prominent members of the current Pleasant View Church not to attempt such a takeover. This much I knew, but I did not previously know that the warning was a printed one that was published in the Springfield Missouri Weekly Patriot several weeks before the fatal confrontation until I recently discovered it as I was perusing that newspaper. I knew, too, that the confrontation was far from spontaneous, but I was not previously aware that it had been building up quite as long as it apparently had been, because the warning was published in the June 21 issue of the Patriot, almost a month and a half before Headlee was killed. So the dispute between Headlee and the members of Pleasant View Church went back to at least the beginning of the summer and probably some considerable time before that.
The warning was in the form of a letter from Henderson W. McNabb, a leader in both the Pleasant View Church and the Radical Republican Party of Webster County, and it had a dateline of "Pleasant View, June 18, 1866."  Addressed to "Mr. S. S. Headlee, Sir," the letter began, "I am desired to say to you for the class and congregation worshiping in Pleasant View church, that your services will not be acceptable as a preacher of the cross of Christ. You are therefore requested not to attempt to preach in said church, on said first Sabbath of July, 1866."
The letter continued, "I am requested further, to signify to you the reasons why the class and congregation worshiping in said church object to you preaching to them." McNabb pointed out that Headlee had, at the beginning of the war, aligned himself with "the enemies of the government" and sought to destroy "the best government in the world." McNabb went on to malign the Confederacy as a "nefarious confederation" and a "nefarious cabal."
"With your own hand," McNabb continued, "you traduced the flag of the nation and to-day, you adhere to the party that framed iniquity and murder into law." (Actually, Headlee not only denounced the U.S. flag at the beginning of the war, but he also reportedly knocked it down.) "You violated the law of God in resisting the government,... you violated your ordination over which required you to be subject to the government of the United States."
Even now, McNabb said, Headlee continued "to resist the constitutional authority of the state of Missouri." McNabb accused Headlee of merely creating strife rather than trying "to spread the trophies of Christ's Kingdom" and said he was guilty of treason. McNabb ended the letter by renewing his request (which was, in fact, a veiled threat) that Headlee not attempt to preach at Pleasant View. "Yours respectfully, H. W. McNabb."
But Headlee did attempt to preach at Pleasant View, not on the first sabbath of July but on Saturday, the 28th of July. And it cost him his life.
Some time after Headlee was shot dead, McNabb and a man named Drake were arrested and charged with murder, McNabb as the instigator and Drake as the trigger man. Not surprisingly, both were eventually acquitted, since only loyal Union men could serve on juries in Missouri in the years right after the Civil War.

Springfield's Response to the 1918 Flu Epidemic

The following is something I posted a week or two ago on my author Facebook page. However, since a lot of readers of this blog probably do not follow my author FB page, I thought I would post it here, too. It is actually the second of two installments I posted about the 1918 flu epidemic and how America responded to it compared to the current COVID-19 pandemic. The first post briefly discussed how media coverage of the two events differed, but it mainly compared the guidelines issued by the US Health Department during the 1918 epidemic to the advice we are being given by health professionals and government officials during the current crisis. Surprisingly enough, the guidelines were fairly similar. The way individual localities responded to the 1918 epidemic and the way they have responded to the present outbreak were also fairly similar, as my examination below of Springfield's response to the 1918 epidemic will show.

The 1918 influenza epidemic, often mislabeled the Spanish flu, hit in three waves. It began with a relatively small outbreak in the spring of 1918. A much more prevalent and deadly wave began, at least in the United States, around the first of October and raged throughout the month before quickly subsiding. The disease reappeared in January of 1919, but it was again a much smaller outbreak. A very large percentage of the deaths from the so-called Spanish flu occurred during the fall of 1918.

On October 1, about the time the most deadly wave of the epidemic was coming on, Springfield mayor J. J. Gideon, to help fight the highly contagious disease, issued a proclamation closing schools, the public library, churches, pool halls, theaters, and other public places where people gathered. The only exceptions to the ban were liberty loan meetings, which were designed to raise funds for the World War I war effort. Even some of these meetings were open-air events.

Perhaps in response to the ban or perhaps on their own, many private groups also postponed meetings. For instance, the Springfield Women’s Business Club announced on October 4 that its upcoming meeting was postponed. Near the same time, physical examinations for local men registering for the draft were postponed. Although most businesses were not directly affected by the ban, many of them closed on their own or reduced their hours. Some of the businesses that did stay open tried to use the situation to their advantage. Noting that there was no ban on music at home, a music store took out a newspaper ad promoting the sale of pianos and phonographs to counter the loss of entertainment at theaters and other places of amusement.

The closures extended beyond Springfield to other Greene County communities as well. For instance, on October 6, it was announced that the Fair Grove School Fair was postponed and rescheduled for October 17. At the same time, a similar event at Strafford was postponed until October 18. (These events were probably further postponed, but I don’t know.) One of the few public events that was allowed to take place was a speech by a US military officer at the Landers Theater. As I noted yesterday, one of the things officials were concerned about during the 1918 epidemic was not to do anything to undermine the war effort.

On October 5, the Springfield Missouri Republican announced that five people had died in Springfield from the flu within the previous 24 hours. Such updates appeared on an almost-daily basis for the rest of the month.

The October 8 edition of the same paper reported 14 new deaths the previous day. By this date, an estimated one-half of Springfield’s telephone employees were out sick. The city health department recommended the following measures as a deterrent to the flu: take frequent doses of castor oil to keep the bowels open, gargle with an antiseptic mouthwash, spray your nose with a salt water solution, and use carbolic acid to clean any room where a sick person had been.

On the 9th, over 300 new cases of the flu were reported in Springfield, with 17 new deaths and a total of 44 deaths since the outbreak began. On the 12th, only 10 new deaths were reported, and there had been a 20 percent reduction in the number of new cases. A Red Cross official said the flu outbreak seemed to be showing signs of abatement.

On October 15, there were four new deaths, although the number of new cases was the same as the day before. On the 16th, the deaths jumped back up to nine, but the number of new cases dropped off. Also, it was pointed out that several of the deaths were people who had been sick a long time. By the 16th, many people who’d been out sick were starting to return to work.

The Republican reported on October 20 that there had been only 33 new cases of the flu in the city the previous day, the lowest number since the outbreak began. On this same day, which was a Sunday, a pastor was arrested for holding church services but he was released without charges when it was learned that violation of the mayor’s proclamation carried no punishment. (Sounds similar to the stay-at-home order that was issued in Joplin a few weeks ago, in that police officers said at the time that, despite the order, they would not be arresting people who were out driving on the streets. More of a suggestion than a law, I guess.)

On October 23, the Republican reported that, although the flu was still raging in Kansas City, the outbreak in Springfield was almost over. On October 26, there were only three new deaths in the city, and it was announced that the mayor’s ban would be lifted a week later, barring an unforeseen setback. On Saturday, November 2, the mayor did indeed issue a proclamation allowing schools, theaters, and other public places to reopen.

From my research for this article and the one I posted previously on my FB page, I would conclude that our country’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic, both on the national and local level, has not been all that much different from the way America responded to the 1918 epidemic.

Aggie Myers: A Woman Condemned to Hang

About daylight on the morning of May 11, 1904, 22-year-old Agnes Myers staggered from her Kansas City home yelling to neighbors that her husband, Clarence, had been murdered. She later told police that Clarence had been killed by two black men who broke into their home earlier that day as the couple slept. One of the intruders attacked Clarence with a knife or razor when a loud noise caused him to spring up in bed, while the other one grabbed her and choked her into insensibility. When she awoke, she found Clarence dead, having bled to death from several slashes to the throat.

Police believed her story at first, but several suspicious circumstances made them to begin to think Agnes knew more about the crime than she was telling. Based on the number and variety of wounds to Clarence’s body, medical examiners thought Clarence had been attacked by two people, one with a blade and one with a blunt instrument, not just one person as she said. They also thought he had been killed earlier than the time at which Agnes said the attack took place. Investigators found a large amount of blood in a part of the house away from where she had said the attack initially took place,  and they also found a blood stained dustpan that had apparently been used to clean up some of the blood. Why would the intruders have taken time to try to clean up their bloody mess?

Mrs. Myers stuck to her story, but authorities continued to watch her closely and to pursue other clues. About the first of July a young man named Frank Hottman, who was known to have been a close friend of Aggie's and who had disappeared from Kansas City right after the crime, was arrested in Walla Walla, Washington, as a suspect in Clarence Myers’s killing. Upon learning of Hottman’s arrest, Agnes repeated her story that two black men had committed the crime, and she denied that she and Frank, who was two years younger than she was, were anything more than good friends who’d known each other all their lives. Despite her continued denials, Agnes was also arrested on suspicion, and a day or so later, Frank confessed that he and Agnes had been lovers for several years and that they planned the murder well in advance because they wanted to be free to marry each other. On the night of the crime, Frank said he went to the Myers home and met Agnes about two a.m. They sneaked into Clarence’s bedroom, but Clarence woke up, yelled at Frank, and grabbed at him. Frank struck Clarence with the large end of a sawed-off pool cue he was carrying, momentarily stunning him. Then while Frank held Clarence, Agnes slashed her husband’s throat several times with his own razor. Confronted with Frank’s confession, Agnes still insisted that she had nothing to do with killing her husband—that perhaps Frank had darkened his skin to disguise himself as a black person and then killed Clarence. The police weren’t convinced by her story.

Hottman was extradited to Missouri in mid-July. During a layover in Denver he tried to commit suicide but was unsuccessful and was brought on to Kansas City. Charged jointly with first-degree murder, Frank and Agnes pleaded not guilty. The cases were severed, and Frank’s trial got underway first. In January 1905, he was convicted and sentenced to hang. In June of the same year, Agnes was also convicted and sentenced to hang. Upon appeal, the Missouri Supreme Court upheld both verdicts, but Missouri governor Joseph W. Folk granted several respites. In April 1907, he finally commuted both sentences to life imprisonment. Hottman died in the state prison hospital in 1923, while Aggie was paroled in early 1935 after serving almost 28 years in the penitentiary.