The Hornet Spook Light

A reader of this blog recently emailed me suggesting ghosts or other mysteries of the Ozarks as a possible topic for me to write about. I replied that I'm not a big believer in ghosts and that the supernatural is not something I'm especially interested in writing about. I added that I had, however, written several magazine articles in the past about the spook light or ghost light that sometimes appears on a country road about ten miles southwest of Joplin, variously called the Hornet Spook Light, the Seneca Spook Light, the Joplin Spook Light, or the Quapaw Spook Light, and that I might write something about it on this blog as well. So, here goes.
According to oral legend, the Spook Light was first spotted in the late 1800s near the small community of Hornet, and it supposedly frightened some of the residents in the area so much that a few of them moved away. Over the years, many supernatural theories purporting to explain the light have arisen. For example, one such theory holds that a Civil War sergeant was decapitated by enemy gunfire in the area but was too tough to die and that every night he sets out with lantern in hand in search of his head. The other supernatural theories are just as irrational as this one.
More rational theories have also been offered, such as the idea that the light is an emanation given off by swamp gas or mineral deposits in the area. Perhaps the simplest explanation for the light is the mundane notion that it is merely the refraction of headlights from a distant stretch of highway in Oklahoma on old Route 66.
Scientific teams have studied the light over the years to try to determine its origin. One team even reportedly fired high-powered rifles at it back in the 1940s. Several but not all of the scientific studies have concluded that the light is, in fact, merely headlights.
Proponents of the paranormal, who, of course, have a vested interest in the outcome of their studies have also investigated the light. These pseudo-scientists almost always come away with the conclusion that the light is unexplainable.
As I said, I'm not a big believer in ghosts; so, I tend to side with those who say the light is just the reflection of headlights. When the idea that the light might be only headlights was first put forth around 1940, it was reportedly discounted by old-timers in the area who claimed to have seen the light long before automobiles were prevalent in the region. However, I think this claim may well be merely part of the mythology of the spook light that was advanced by Arthur "Spooky" Meadows in order to promote his so-called Spook Light Museum, which he ran as a tourist destination during the 1940s and 1950s. Although the oral legend holds that the light was first seen in the late 1800s, the first written mention of the Spook Light did not occur until the mid 1930s, several years after Route 66 was built through the region. So, I'm skeptical of the oral legend.
The only thing that bothers me about the headlight theory is the fact that spottings of the Spook Light seem to have diminished in recent years, while the number of vehicles in the area has held steady or increased. Not sure how to explain that, but I'm sure there is a logical explanation. Maybe the growth of trees, for example, has simply blocked the view of observers.

For a much more extensive examination of the Spook Light, check out by book The Ozarks Spook Light: History, Legend and Speculation https://www.amazon.com/Ozarks-Spook-Light-History-Speculation/dp/0970282931/ref.  
The photo below is from a postcard advertising the Spook Light, probably during the 1950s.

Rosati/Knobview

I've written previously about the phenomenon of communities changing their names. For example, I wrote on this blog a few years ago about Dadeville, Missouri, which was originally known as Melville. This phenomenon of name changing was not unusual in the Ozarks (and probably elsewhere as well). Often the name change was prompted by the U.S. Post Office. That is, a community often went by a certain name during its very early days, but when it approached the Postal Service about the possibility of obtaining a post office, the community was sometimes informed that a town by its name already existed elsewhere in the state. Sometimes the two names didn't even have to be exactly alike, if they were close enough to cause confusion. That's what happened in the case of Melville/Dadeville. Postal workers supposedly said that they kept getting Melville mixed up with another community in Missouri named Millville, and Melville agreed to change its name. There were several other reasons why a community might change its name. Sometimes name changes had political overtones, especially related to the Civil War. Sometimes names of places were changed to honor a prominent local citizen. Or, as in the case of Rosati, located in eastern Phelps County, names were sometimes changed because of a large influx of immigrants.
Rosati was originally settled during the 1840s or 1850s and called Knobview, supposedly because it was located on an eminence along the old Springfield to St. Louis road (which is roughly I-44 today) and, when travelers reached the spot, they could see three knobs or hills in the distance to the southwest. In 1898, a large group of Italian immigrants settled at Knobview and shortly afterwards started several vineyards in the area. (Rosati is still known today for its grape growing and its wine industry.) In 1931, residents of Knobview petitioned the Post Office to change the name of their community to Rosati, after Bishop Joseph Rosati, the first bishop of St. Louis and the first American bishop of Italian descent. The request was granted.

More Mineral Water Towns

I have written previously about the many towns that sprang up in the Ozarks (and elsewhere) during the mineral water craze that struck America about 1880. Such towns, however, were even more prevalent than I realized when I first started writing about them. As I continue to read about the Ozarks and read about its history, I periodically come across additional mineral water towns that I did not previously know about. For instance, I have long known about Ponce de Leon in northeast Stone County, Missouri, but only recently did I learn about the nearby mineral water towns of Reno and Eau de Vie. Ponce de Leon, of course, still exists and is listed on many maps, but almost nothing remains of the other two to suggest that they ever existed.
Reno was located in neighboring Christian County near where the county lines of Stone, Christian, and Taney meet. It sprang up almost overnight in the 1880s. Two hotels were built to accommodate visitors, and a saloon and a dance hall were also built to entertain them. A number of houses were also constructed, but the place died in the 1890s, almost as fast as it had come into being, as the mineral water craze subsided. The only thing that remains to mark where Reno was is the spring by that name that caused the town to be established in the first place. It is still listed on some maps.
Eau de Vie (French for "Water of Life") was located a little farther east, also in Christian County, near the Taney County line. It, too, sprang up almost overnight, and eighty acres were laid out in lots for the town. Stores and other businesses were built, along with houses, but, like its neighbor, it quickly passed into history. Nothing really remains to mark where it was.

Britt's Killing of Renno, Springfield, 1838

I mentioned last time that grocery stores acquired an unsavory reputation, at least among temperance advocates, during the 1800s because most of them sold liquor, and the word "grocery" came to be almost synonymous with "saloon." A grocery was not a place for a respectable woman to do her shopping. Instead, women concerned for their reputation usually shopped at dry goods stores, general stores, or confectionaries. Groceries were reserved mainly for men, and many of them came to be seen as de facto saloons.
Such a grocery was the business of R. J. McElhaney on the Springfield public square during the pre-Civil War days. One day in early 1838, a group of men were inside the store drinking and having a good time when a man outside the store, looking for some rough sport, suggested to Jonathan Renno, another bystander, that he ought to go inside and clean the place out. Renno accepted the dare, marched inside, and took hold of the first man he came to, who happened to be Randolph Britt.
In the struggle that ensued, Britt took out a knife and stabbed Renno to death. Britt was convicted of manslaughter and spent a few years in the state penitentiary at Jeff City.
My book entitled Wicked Springfield contains a more detailed account of this incident. It also chronicles several other similar affrays in early-day Springfield. In addition, it covers in some detail what might be called general vice, like liquor violations, gambling, and prostitution. I'll be signing copies of the book at Half Price Books of the Ozarks on the Plaza Shopping Center in Springfield on Saturday, November 3 from 1-3 p.m.  

Groceries as Saloons

When we hear the word "grocery" or the term "grocery store" today, we think of a place that primarily sells food, and neither term has a negative connotation. That has not always been the case in this country.
When the temperance movement was at high tide during 1800s, the term "grocery" did have a negative connotation, at least among temperance advocates. Not all grocery stores sold liquor, but the many that did tended to give them all a bad name among zealous temperance advocates. So much so that the very word "grocery" became almost synonymous with "saloon," and many temperance advocates used the term with sarcasm or disdain to suggest a place that was a grocery in name only.
In 1856, the temperance advocates of Springfield, many of them women, managed to get a law passed by the Missouri Legislature, called the Springfield Liquor Law, that outlawed the sale of liquor in Springfield. After its passage, the ladies of Springfield, in a letter of appreciation to the legislature, boasted that there was now "no dram shop or grocery in Springfield."
This negative attitude toward the word "grocery" probably helps explain why businesses that we might tend to think of today as "grocery stores" were more often called "general stores" during the 1800s and early 1900s. If you didn't sell liquor, you let people know it by calling your place of business a general store instead of a grocery store. At least I suppose that was the logic, although I'm sure there were "general stores" that also sold liquor, under the counter if not openly.

Killing of Roberts by Judge Yancey

I said last time that one of the differences between Joplin and Springfield as far as the notorious history of each town is concerned was simply a matter of reputation, in that Joplin was widely perceived as a wild town even though Springfield probably had about as much unruly behavior as Joplin did. Another difference that I neglected to mention last time was that the heyday of vice in Springfield simply came later than it did in Joplin. Joplin was noted for its revelry and debauchery from the time it was founded as a town in the early 1870s (actually even a little before its official founding). Springfield, on the other hand, started slowly during the pre-Civil War days, as far as vice and wild behavior are concerned,  then picked up steam during and after the war, and really did not reach its peak until the early 1900s.
One notorious incident that did occur in Springfield during the pre-war years, however, was the killing of John Roberts by Judge Charles S. Yancey on the public square during the late 1830s. Roberts had served as Greene County's first coroner, but he was considered a rough character, especially when he had been drinking, and he had been charged with felonious assault at least twice for his part in affrays during the early to mid thirties. Yancey was a county court judge, and he had fined Roberts for contempt during one of Roberts's several court appearances. Roberts paid the fine but afterwards started taunting Yancey every time he saw him in public.
The fateful showdown finally came one day during the summer of 1837. After a confrontation on the square, Yancey started to walk away but, as he did so, he noticed Roberts start to reach into his pocket. Thinking Roberts was going for a knife that he was known to carry, Yancey promptly flourished a pistol and shot him dead. As it turned out, Roberts had not been reaching for his knife, but Yancey was acquitted at his subsequent murder trial. He later was appointed a circuit judge.     

Wicked Springfield Versus Wicked Joplin

About a year and a half ago, my book entitled Wicked Joplin, based on the notorious history of Joplin during its days as a booming mining town, was published. I now have a new book coming out entitled Wicked Springfield, Missouri: The Seamy Side of the Queen City. It, like the previous book, is based on the notorious history of the town in question.
Some people might find it a bit surprising that Springfield would be the subject of a book about the notorious side of its history. Most people who have lived within a hundred miles or so of Joplin for any length of time probably know that, almost from its very beginning, it had a reputation for being a wild town. By compariosn, most people, I believe, tend to think of Springfield during its early days as fairly tame. However, as I point out in the preface to my new book, even though Springfield was not founded as a raucous mining town and, therefore, was not the magnet for lawlessness in its early days that Joplin was from its very outset, Springfield was still a rough-and-tumble frontier town that had its share of shenanigans. A big part of the difference between the two towns was a merely a matter of perception. Springfield just didn't have the unruly reputation that Joplin did, even though it probably had about as much unruly behavior.
I intend to write more about the notorious side of Springfield's history next time.