66 Years Ago on Route 66

Route 66 is one of the iconic national highways in the U.S. On May 26, 1957, 66 years ago today, June and I drove up that highway as newlyweds. We were on our wedding trip to Chicago—and driving up Route 66 was the best way to get there. 

Route 66 was established in 1926, and it was the major U.S. highway from Chicago to Los Angeles, traversing about 2,450 miles.

In Chapter 12 of the powerful novel The Grapes of Wrath (1939), author John Steinbeck writes:

HIGHWAY 66 IS THE main migrant road. 66—the long concrete path across the country ….

66 is the path of a people in flight, refugees from dust and shrinking land, from the thunder of tractors and shrinking ownership …. 66 is the mother road, the road of flight.

But even by the 1940s, Route 66 was viewed in a much happier mood by many people: Nat King Cole recorded the hit song, “Get Your Kicks on Route 66” in 1946 (hear it here).

It amazes me now to realize that June and I were driving up Route 66 for our honeymoon “kicks” only 31 years after it was established as a national highway.

“57 Years for a ’57 Marriage” was the title of the blog post I made on May 25, 2014. I made some reference there to our marriage, but it was more about the year 1957 in general. (You are invited to (re)read that post, and see our wedding picture, here.)

June and I met in September 1955, not long after we matriculated as first-year students at Southwest Baptist College in Bolivar, Missouri (30+ miles north of Springfield.)

It wasn’t very long before we started talking about getting married at some point. A few months before graduating from the small junior college, we decided that the point was soon after our graduation in 1957.

So on May 26, a Sunday afternoon, we were married in Rondo Baptist Church, June’s home church about 15 miles north of Bolivar. Following the reception in the decorated basement of the church, we left at about 4:30 and drove east for a little over an hour to Lebanon, where we got on Route 66.

It was not much more than an hour’s drive to Rolla, but it had been a big day already, so we decided to stop for the night at Schuman’s Motor Inn. (I was amazed to find that there is a “Shuman's Motor Inn US Route 66 Rolla Missouri 1957” postcard for sale on eBay.).

The cost for the room in Rolla was $7—which seems very cheap now, but that was all I made in seven hours working for minimum wage at a shoe factory later that summer. At the current minimum wage in Missouri, that would be equivalent to just over $72.

The next night, we stayed in the southern suburbs of Chicago, and it cost $9 there. And then we spent a couple of nights in the elegant Palmer House in downtown Chicago. The construction of that 25-story hotel was completed in 1925. It was an impressive place for us, two Missouri farm kids, to stay!

So, what can I say after 66 years of marriage? Would I do it again, get married that young? We struggled financially for our first nine years, during which time the two of us, combined, were full-time students for eleven years—and we also had two children by November 1960.

But, yes, I would do it again, no question about it. In spite of the challenges of those first years—and different challenges in the following decades—I have never for a moment regretted marrying my beautiful 19-year-old bride 66 years ago, when I was still 18.

For several years now, we have talked about hoping we will be able to celebrate our 75^th wedding anniversary. My parents were married 88 years ago this month, and they celebrated their 72^nd anniversary about 2½ months before my father died at age 92 in July 2007.

But we are still hoping that on May 26, 2032, we will, indeed, be able to celebrate 75 years of married life. We may not make it—but if not, we will die trying. 

The Supreme Court Then and Now: Reflecting on the Dred Scott Case

In recent years there have been a couple of bad U.S. Supreme Court decisions, namely, “Citizens United” in 2010 and the decision to gut the Voting Right Act in 2013. But it is widely agreed that the Court’s decision on the Dred Scott case 165 years ago, on March 6, 1857, was the worst ever. 

Dred Scott’s Suit for Freedom

Although it is an embarrassment to me, Missouri, the state where I was born and where I have lived again since 2004, was a slave state from its beginning in 1821, and the Dred Scott case was closely linked to Missouri.

Dred Scott was an enslaved man who was born in Virginia between 1795 and 1799. Peter Blow, his enslaver, brought Scott and his other slaves to St. Louis in 1830 and soon sold him to John Emerson, a surgeon serving in the U.S. Army.

Emerson took Scott with him to Illinois and then to Wisconsin Territory, both areas where slavery was illegal. But then the doctor moved back to Missouri in 1840. Scott, though, claimed that since he had lived in free territories, he should no longer be considered enslaved—and he sued for his freedom.

He won his case, but after it was reversed by the Mo. Supreme Court, Scott and his wife took their case to the U.S. Supreme Court—and to their dismay and the dismay of many, the SCOTUS ruled against them by a vote of 7-2.

However, in May 1857, Dred and Harriet Scott appeared in the St. Louis Circuit Court and were formally freed— but he did not live to enjoy his free status very long as he died of tuberculosis in September of the next year.**

The Supreme Court in 1857

Of the nine members on the Supreme Court in 1857—all White men, of course—five were from the South and were slave owners. Two of the Northerners sided with the Southerners in voting against Scott’s freedom.

Roger B. Taney was the Chief Justice and wrote the infamous majority opinion of the Dred Scott decision. Taney (1777~1864) was born into a wealthy, slave-owning family in Maryland. He was confirmed as a Supreme Court Justice in 1836 and remained the Chief Justice until his death.

(In an interesting but unrelated Missouri connection, a new county in south Missouri was officially organized in 1837 and named in honor of the new Chief Justice. Many years later the now widely-known resort town of Branson was incorporated in Taney County.)

In his infamous opinion, Taney wrote that the majority held that “a negro, whose ancestors were imported into [the U.S.], and sold as slaves,” whether enslaved or free, could not be an American citizen and therefore did not have the standing to sue in federal court.

Ironically, as Chief Justice, Taney was forced to issue the presidential oath to Lincoln in March 1861, and to listen to Lincoln’s inaugural address, where he criticized Taney and the Dred Scott decision, but not directly by name.

After the Civil War, in 1868 the Fourteenth Amendment overturned the Dred Scott decision by granting citizenship to all those born in the United States, regardless of color or former enslavement.

The Supreme Court Now

From the beginning to the present, there have been 115 Supreme Court Justices—and all but seven of those have been White men.

It was of the greatest significance when Thurgood Marshall was confirmed as the first African American Justice in 1967, a full 110 years after the Dred Scott decision.

And now Ketanji Brown Jackson will likely soon be confirmed as the first Black woman to be seated on the Supreme Court.

Both Marshall and Jackson, as well as Justice Clarence Thomas, are descendants of enslaved people who were not and could not be U.S. citizens according to the Dred Scott decision of 1857.

But now the Supreme Court needs to act again to ensure that African Americans, whose full citizenship was acknowledged in the 1860s, can exercise their right to vote despite new Jim Crow laws currently encroaching on the voting rights of Black citizens.

_____

** Here is the link to a lengthy and informative talk about the Dred Scott case that was given by (now) retiring Justice Stephen Breyer in 2009.

Believing What You See, Seeing What You Believe

The impetus for this article came from seeing the following optical illusion on Facebook last month: 

What do you think? Are the blue bars all parallel, or are they zig-zag? Can you believe what you see?

Victoria Skye’s Illusions

The above image was created in 2017 by Victoria Skye, who introduces herself on one website as “a children’s and family magician and balloon twister in Atlanta, Georgia.”

Another website says she is a “magical entertainer” and “illusion artist,” and it gives a link to the image above, which is called the “Skye Blue Café Wall Illusion.” That website also links to a YouTube video, which explains that the blue bars in the image are really parallel.

So, what about it? Can we really believe what we see (or what we think we see)?

Believing What You See

As you know, Missouri has long been called the Show-me State. The origin of that unofficial motto goes back at least to Willard Vandiver, who served from 1897 to 1905 as a Missouri member of the U.S. House of Representatives.

According to this 2021 article in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Vandiver declared in a 1899 speech about a questionable issue, “I'm from Missouri, and you have got to show me.”

As one born and reared in Missouri, I have always taken some pride in our state’s motto: it is a caution against gullibility and a call for verifiability.

One troubling problem, though, is that we humans don’t always see things correctly. Even what we think we see clearly can sometimes be an illusion—as the above image of Victoria Skye clearly shows. And we can be mistaken about important, real-life matters also.

Thus, a large majority of the voters in the Show-me State were under the illusion that their preferred candidate for POTUS in 2016 was an admirable man who would lead the U.S. in a positive way. But after four years they were still unable to believe what they saw and voted for him again.

Seeing What you Believe

Some things have to be believed in order to be seen. That was the title of#20, the seven-page chapter in my book Thirty True Things Everyone Needs to Know Now (2018). (I wish you all had my book and would (re)read that chapter, but you can read it online here.)

In that chapter, as in my July 10 blog post, I quote the fox in The Little Prince: “Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.” What we know intuitively or, yes, by faith is necessary for “seeing” things that are of the greatest importance to us. We “see” those things because of what we believe.

But here, too, is a knotty problem: our beliefs are not always correct. Just as we can be misled by what we see with our physical eyes (come on, the blue bars in Virginia Skye’s image are clearly zigzag!), we can also be misled by what we incorrectly believe.

To avoid duplicating what I wrote for #20 in my book, here is an important matter not discussed there—and something I need to know more about. There is often, we are told, a skewing or misunderstanding of “reality” by something psychologists call cognitive bias.

I found this 2020 article about that matter instructive, although it did not say enough about the central importance of beliefs/presuppositions. But it did refer to “confirmation bias,” which is “favoring information that conforms to . . . existing beliefs and discounting evidence that does not conform.”

Because we all tend to see what we believe, we have to examine our beliefs regularly just as we have to be sure what we see with our physical eyes is correct. (The blue bars still look zigzag to me!).

To use the previous example, we “libtards” who strongly disagree with the “Trumpists” must discuss or debate not just what we see/hear but most of all what we each believe and why.

To acknowledge that we all see what we do and evaluate what we see on the basis of our basic beliefs/presuppositions is of the greatest importance.

Congratulations, Missouri!

Recently, Missouri was often in the news, but for embarrassing reasons for us Missourians: Missouri, especially the southwest part of the state, was a hotspot for new covid-19 cases. But today (8/10) is a celebratory day for all Missourians; it is the state’s bicentennial. 

Missouri History

The name Missouri came from the Native Americans, and it is usually pronounced mĭ-zo͝or′ē, although in the west/northwest part of the state, mĭ-zo͝or′ə is more common.

The land that became the state of Missouri was part of the Louisiana Purchase of 1803 and was called Louisiana Territory until 1812 when Louisiana became a state. From then until 1821, most of that area was called Missouri Territory.

Then on August 10, 1821, Missouri became the 24^th state of the United States. That was following and in accordance with the Missouri Compromise of March 1820.

That Compromise was federal legislation that stopped northern attempts to forever prohibit slavery’s expansion by admitting Missouri as a slave state and Maine as a free state in exchange for legislation that prohibited slavery in the remaining Louisiana Purchase lands except for Missouri.

Missouri Fame

Missouri was the first state completely west of the Mississippi River to be admitted to the Union, and long ago St. Louis was dubbed “Gateway to the West.” In 1965, construction of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis was completed, and it is the world’s tallest arch.

Missouri was the birthplace of many who became nationally, and internationally, famous. Foremost of those is Harry S. Truman, who always had a home in Missouri. Earlier this year, historians again ranked Truman the sixth best President in U.S. history.

Other famous Missourians include (in alphabetical order), the painter Thomas Hart Benton, author Dale Carnegie, George Washington Carver, theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, and Mark Twain. Also, author Laura Ingalls Wilder lived in Missouri for over 60 years before her death in 1957.

The geographical center of the contiguous United States is actually in Kansas, about 250 miles west of the Missouri-Kansas border. But because of its diversity, Missouri seems more like the center of the nation.

Missouri is not East or West, North or South, but right in the middle, adjacent to all four geographical areas of the 48 states, so I have sometimes claimed that it is the most typical part of the U.S.

Missouri Roots

Even though my pride in Missouri has waned some in recent years, mainly because of the state’s political position, my Missouri roots run deep, and most of my life I have been justly proud of my home state.

My Grandpa George’s grandfather, Franklin Wadsworth Seat, was born in Cooper County in 1818, three years before Missouri became a state.

Not long before Franklin’s birth, his parents, Littleton and Elizabeth, migrated with two of Littleton’s brothers from Tennessee to Cooper Co.—and then in 1844 moved to what is now Worth County.

The area that became Worth Co. in 1861 was the very northwest corner of the state—and of the United States—when Missouri was admitted to the Union and remained so until the Platte Purchase was added in 1837.

I regret that the Seat family in Tennessee, and previously in Virginia, “owned” enslaved people, but as far as I have been able to ascertain, the Seats in Missouri never had “slaves” and a couple of Littleton’s nephews in Cooper Co. were Union soldiers in the Civil War.

Today, I am happy to join with fellow Missourians all over the state in celebration of Missouri’s bicentennial—and to take pride in the fact that some of my branch of the Seat family have lived in the state for all of these 200 years, and even longer.

After my death, some of my ashes will be buried not far from the grave of Franklin Seat, who, as mentioned, was born in Missouri before it became a state and who was buried in Worth County’s New Hope Cemetery in 1905.

So, as a deeply rooted Missourian, I join the chorus of those who, today and this month, exclaim, Congratulations, Missouri! 

_____ 

** For those who would like to learn more, here is the link to the Missouri Statehood Day website, which has a schedule of activities, some of which will be live-streamed.

** Many Missouri communities will be having ice cream socials today, including here in Liberty. There will be free ice cream on the square between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. (More information here.)

The Tragic Tulsa Massacre of 1921

There seems to be no end to the need for acknowledging the violence done to African Americans in this country. Two months ago, I wrote about the shameful Easter 1873 massacre in Louisiana. This weekend is the 100^th anniversary of the tragic massacre of Blacks in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

The Basic Facts of the Tulsa Massacre

It all started on a Monday morning, May 30. Sarah, a 17-year-old White elevator operator charged that Dick, a 19-year-old Black man grabbed her arm as he entered the elevator. It is not known what actually happened, but the next day Dick was arrested for attacking Sarah.

By mid-afternoon on May 31, threats of lynching Dick surfaced, and Blacks begin to gather to protect him—but they were far outnumbered by the Whites. About 10 p.m., a White man attempted to disarm a Black man. The gun fired in the ruckus, and the massacre began.

Beginning around 5 a.m. on June 1, Black homes and businesses were looted and set ablaze. At 7:30, Mount Zion Baptist Church was set afire.

Most of the killing and the destruction of property was over by noon, but by then Tulsa’s prosperous Black neighborhood of Greenwood, known as the “Black Wall Street,” was completely destroyed.

According to the large, impressive book The 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre: A Photographic History, “Perhaps as many as three hundred Tulsans” were killed.

Moreover, “Upward of ten thousand Black Tulsans were without homes or businesses, their lifetime possessions either consumed by fire or carried away by whites” (p. 271).**  

Why Remember the Tulsa Massacre?

One of William Faulkner’s most memorable lines comes from his 1951 novel Requiem of a Nun: “The past is never dead. It's not even past.”

Faulkner’s words were paraphrased in "A More Perfect Union," a speech delivered by then Senator Barack Obama in March 2008. He argued that many of the difficulties in African American communities could be traced to the sufferings of previous generations under slavery and Jim Crow laws.

Or, he might have said, traced back to events such as the 1906 lynchings in Springfield, Mo., and the massacre in Tulsa 15 years later.

For decades and decades, evil racist acts of the past were overlooked, disregarded, consigned to the dustbin of history—or so it was hoped.

Just 35 years after the tragic Tulsa massacre of 1921, I took an American history course in Bolivar, Mo., just over 200 miles from Tulsa. I’m quite sure no mention was made of the Tulsa massacre.

According to the online Britannica, “Despite its severity and destructiveness, the Tulsa race massacre was barely mentioned in history books until the late 1990s, when a state commission was formed to document the incident.”

Nor was there any mention of the lynchings of African Americans fifteen years earlier in Springfield, Mo., even though that city was only about 30 miles away. My small Baptist college had no Black students, and there was little, if any, interest in Black history in the classroom or on campus.

But the past is never dead—and in 2019 the city of Springfield finally, after 113 years, erected a historical marker in the city. And now, 100 years after the massacre in Tulsa, the country is finally paying some attention to the tragic events there. The past, thankfully, is no longer forgotten or concealed.

There is hope for the days ahead if the nation learns from the living past in order to create a livable future with liberty and justice for all.

_____

** The book of photographic history was written by Karlos K. Hill and published in March of this year. Another important book on this subject is Randy Krehbiel’s Tulsa 1921: Reporting a Massacre (2019). (Both of these books were available in my local public library.)

Honoring/Dis-honoring Andrew Jackson

The Apostle Andrew was always a favorite of mine. But I have not been fond (to say the least) of the two U.S. Presidents named Andrew. This blog post is about the first of those two, Andrew Jackson, who was the seventh POTUS and in office from 1829 to 1837. 

Statue of Andrew Jackson in front of the Jackson County Courthouse in Kansas City, Mo.
The statue was sculpted by Charles Keck and placed here in 1934.

Honoring Andrew Jackson

Before becoming President, Jackson was a noted military man. His victory in 1815 against the British at the Battle of New Orleans made him a national hero. Jackson then led U.S. forces in the First Seminole War, which led to the annexation of Florida from Spain in 1819.

On December 15, 1826, almost two years before Jackson was elected POTUS, a new county in the rather new state of Missouri was established and named after General Jackson. It is now home to three of the six largest cities in Missouri: Kansas City, Independence, and Lee’s Summit.

Jackson County, Mo., is one of 24 counties (including Jackson Parish, La.) in the U.S. named after Jackson. There are also numerous cities, towns, and villages named Jacksonville or Jackson. Jacksonville, Florida, was so named in 1822 in commemoration of Jackson who was the first military governor of Florida Territory.

If you are a white American, and especially one who believes in white supremacy as DJT seemingly does, honoring Jackson probably seems good and reasonable to you.

DJT tweeted on June 30, “This [fight for preserving the statues] is a battle to save the Heritage, History, and Greatness of our Country!” And as you probably know, he has a portrait of Jackson on the wall near his desk in the Oval Office.

There is much heritage, history, and greatness linked to Jackson, no doubt—as well as to Robert E. Lee.

But how many Black Americans have you heard wanting to save the heritage, history, and greatness of the country by honoring/protecting the statues/monuments of Lee?

And how many Native Americans have you heard wanting to save the heritage, history, and greatness of the country by honoring/protecting the statues/monuments of Jackson?

Things look different when seen through eyes other than those of people who have always enjoyed the many, often unrecognized, benefits of white privilege.

Dis-honoring Andrew Jackson

Twice recently I have written in opposition to the “lynching” of statues or monuments, that is, toppling or destroying them by violent, illegal means. But I am a strong advocate of removing such statues or monuments by legislative bodies.

The word dishonor means “bring shame or disgrace on,” and that is not particularly what I am advocating. As someone said to me recently, if we were living at the same time and in the same region (as Jackson, or whomever we see as a problem in the past), we likely would have done, or supported, the same thing we find objectionable today. Quite probably so.

What I am advocating is that we dis-honor such people, that is, remove the statues or monuments of those whom we no longer wish to honor.

Clearly, having a statue or monument of someone standing in a public place, or having a city or county named after a person of the past, honors that person.

Jackson County, Mo., obviously took its name in 1826 because of the desire of the decision-makers who wished to honor Andrew Jackson as a military hero. I seriously doubt that there would have been any single person of the Seminole Nation who would have agreed with that honoring.

And after Jackson’s Indian Removal Act of 1830, I can’t imagine there were any Native Americans who thought Jackson deserved the honor bestowed on him.

There are Native Americans who live in Jackson County right now. In honor of both their citizenship and ethnicity, I urge Jackson County officials to remove Jackson’s recently defaced statue (which is now under a tarp, as you see below) from its current location and to begin the process of changing the name of the county. 

Renouncing Revenge

Speaking of movies, which I was in my March 25 blog article, last month June and I watched “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.” Not just because it was one of the movies nominated for Best Picture of 2017, but because we are Missourians we had looked forward to seeing the movie soon after it came out on DVD.

Praise for “Three Billboards”

Clearly, “Three Billboards” was an excellently made movie with great acting—especially by Frances McDormand, winner of the Best Actress Oscar for her portrayal of Mildred, the sad, angry central character.

Although the film itself did not win the Oscar, it did win Best Motion Picture at the 75th Golden Globe Awards.

Rabbi Jeffrey Salkin declared (here) that at it was the “best religious film” of 2017. He explained that it was “about sin, forgiveness, and redemption.” It seemed to me, though, that it was mostly about the former, and only a very little about the latter two—and even that depended largely on what you think Mildred and the “bad cop” did after the movie ended. 

Criticism of “Three Billboards”

My evaluation of the movie is rather negative. Of lesser importance is my criticism that it didn’t seem authentic to south Missouri—and in fact, it was filmed in North Carolina!

The central motif of there being three large billboards on a two-lane blacktop road outside a small south Missouri town is quite questionable—but not as much as to think they would rent for $5,000 a month.

(Actually, Martin McDonagh, the Irish screenplay writer, got the idea for the film years ago when he saw three billboards on a bus trip down I-10 not far from Beaumont, Texas.)

Also, while there are many foul-mouthed people in Missouri, it is a stretch to think that a small town in south Missouri would have so many--and to think that the police chief would use such foul language even when talking to his young daughters.

On a deeper level, there is the whole matter of how much “redemption” and “grace” is found in “Three Billboards.” On this matter, and with helpful references to Flannery O’Connor, consider this perceptive article in Vox.

I certainly couldn’t see much evidence of forgiveness and redemption. It was mostly about seeking revenge, couched in terms of “penal justice.”

Renouncing Revenge

Revenge is certainly a highly popular theme of movies and TV shows—doubtlessly because it is such a widespread human desire.

That was the main thing, though, I didn’t like about “Three Billboards.” Mildred’s anger was certainly understandable. But her ongoing hatred for those who abused/killed her daughter was making her life, and the lives of those around her, miserable.

Two other popular movies come to mind that, for me, were tainted by their emphasis on revenge. Recently, and for the first time, June and I also watched the classic (cult) movie “The Princess Bride.” It was delightful in many ways—but it was mainly about revenge, so I ended up not liking it.

Then a couple of years ago I went with my grandson David to see the beautifully done 2015 movie “The Revenant.” It was impressive in many ways; the scenery and the performance of the central character played by Leonardo DiCaprio were outstanding. But I ended up not liking that movie either—for the same reason: it mostly based on seeking revenge.

So I renounce revenge, for in the wise words of the noted ethicist Lewis B. Smedes: “The problem with revenge is that it never evens the score. It ties both the injured and the injurer to an escalator of pain.”

In Recognition of George Washington Carver

What do Walt Disney, T.S. Eliot, J.C. Penny, Harry Truman and Mark Twain have in common? As many of you may have soon recognized, they were all born in Missouri and are among the most famous Missourians of all time.

But in this column I am writing about another Missourian who deserves to be near the top of the list of notable people from my home state.

The slave boy who came to be known as George Washington Carver was born on a farm near the village of Diamond in the southwest corner of Missouri. The date of George’s birth is not known for sure, but it was probably in the spring of 1865, not long before the end of the Civil War.

We do know when Carver died: January 5, 1943. Later that year his Missouri birthplace was declared a national monument.

Three years later President Truman, who was born in Lamar, Mo., about 40 miles due north of Carver’s birthplace, signed a Joint Resolution on December 28, 1945, saying, “I do hereby call upon officials of the Government to have the flag at half staff on all government buildings on January 5, 1946, in commemoration of the achievements of George Washington Carver.”

Around that same time Public Law 290 was passed, designating January 5 of each year as George Washington Carver Recognition Day.

Since it falls at the beginning of the new year, perhaps Carver’s “recognition day” isn’t observed very much. To be honest, I don’t remember knowing about it before I started reading about Carver recently. Like most of you, I knew that he was known for all his inventions using peanuts. But I didn’t know anything about his early life, some of which I will share with you here.

Shortly after his birth, George and his mother were kidnapped by “bushwhackers” and carried off into nearby Arkansas. Even though Moses Carver, who owned Mary, his only slave, and her children including James (b. 1859) and George, he was a Union sympathizer. He was so concerned about their welfare that he asked a neighbor, who happened to be a Union scout, to search for baby George and his mother.

The scout found George and brought him back to the Carvers, but Mary was never heard of again. Still, Moses was so grateful to have little George back he gave his three-hundred-dollar racehorse to the neighbor in appreciation. Then Moses Carver and his compassionate wife Susan reared George and his older brother as if they were their own children.

George was an avid learner from a young age—but it was not easy for a black boy to get an education in the 1870s. He learned much from his parents and then at the Lincoln School for Negro Children in Neosho. Then he went on to study in other schools, finally completing high school in Kansas when he was about 20.

Later he was able to enter college in Iowa as the only black student in Simpson College. He moved on to what is now Iowa State University, where he graduated and then completed his Master’s degree.

That year, 1896, Booker T. Washington, the founder of Tuskegee Institute, invited Carver to head its new Agriculture Department. He accepted the invitation and taught there for 47 years, becoming one of the greatest botanists and humanitarians of the 20^th century—and a man who certainly deserves to be recognized today and on January 5 each year.

Border Wars

In celebration of my birthday last week, June and I made an overnight trip to Lawrence, Kansas. It was largely because of recently watching the 1999 Ang Lee movie “Ride with the Devil” that we decided to make the short trip to Lawrence and to do some sight-seeing there.

Part of the movie was about the infamous “Lawrence Massacre,” which occurred 150 years ago tomorrow, on August 21, 1863. That event, also known as “Quantrill’s Raid,” was a guerrilla attack led by William Quantrill. Between 150 and 200 men and boys were killed in that atrocious raid.

We re-traced the path of the guerrillas’ rampage, which began around 5 a.m. on that fateful August morning. We also visited the Watkins Community Museum of History, just a block from South Park that was part of the original layout of Lawrence when it was platted in 1854.

Watkins Museum houses exhibits from Lawrence and Douglas County—and a new permanent exhibition featuring the events of 1863 officially opened last Saturday. Fortunately, we were able to get a “peek preview” of that fine new $300,000 exhibition.

At noon on the fifteenth we dined in the historic Eldridge hotel. On that site, the Free State Hotel, a well-fortified structure built by the staunch anti-slavery Massachusetts Emigrant Aid Society to receive anti-slavery settlers as they arrived from the east, was completed in May 1856--and burned down the same day by the avid pro-slavery sheriff as well as ruffians" from Missouri!

Colonel Shalor Eldridge rebuilt the hotel, naming it Eldridge House. That building, completed in December 1858, was then destroyed less than five years later during Quantrill’s Raid. But Eldridge and others built it back in 1866.

The new Eldridge House was torn down in 1925 and then rebuilt as The Eldridge. In 1970, though, it was turned into an apartment house. But in 1985 it became a hotel again after the top four floors were completely rebuilt and the lobby restored to its original elegance.

Before the Civil War started, the guerrilla free-state fighters were known as “Jayhawkers,” and they often clashed with pro-slavery groups from Missouri known at the time as “Border Ruffians” or “Bushwhackers.” After the Civil War, the word “Jayhawker” became synonymous with the people of Kansas.

In 1890 when the University of Kansas, located in Lawrence, fielded their first football team they were called the Jayhawkers. Now the KU sports teams are known as simply the Jayhawks.

After June and I moved to Liberty in 2005, we became fans of the University of Missouri Tigers basketball team, and we especially enjoyed the exciting games with the KU Jayhawks. Those games were sometimes called “border wars,” though.

The more we learned about the real border wars of the 1850s and ’60s, the more uncomfortable we felt. We were not particularly happy when MU transferred to the SEC, bringing the MU v. KU rivalry to an end. But at least we are no longer regularly reminded of those horrendous days when the deadly border wars were being fought.

Somehow we went through the Missouri school system not learning much about the appalling conflict between the Bushwhackers and the Jayhawkers. I don’t know if that wasn’t mentioned much back then or whether we just weren’t paying attention.

At any rate, although there has in the past been intense rivalry between the MU and KU sports teams, and while there is now some economic rivalry between the states especially in the Kansas City area, at least there is no longer actual fighting with lethal weapons.

Some things, thankfully, have improved over the last 150 years!