By: Sarah Parsons - Reference Archivist

Being a child in a well-known family can be difficult in spite of the benefits it brings. As the daughter of famous Kansas newspaper editor and author William Allen White and the “kid sister” of Bill White, Mary Katherine White once complained that she “got it double.” Her father, already famous for his 1896 editorial “What’s the Matter with Kansas?” was involved with politics on a national scale; her mother, Sallie Lindsay White, was a partner with her husband on the Emporia Gazette as well as a leader in the equal suffrage movement and the education of women. Mary’s older brother, already at Harvard, was on a path that would lead him to the successful editorship of his father’s newspaper and a lifelong career in journalism.

Her parents were friends with many of the leading literary and political lights of the early 20th century, and Mary surely appreciated the vibrant and intelligent conversations that took place when famous visitors came to their home. At the same time, she disliked the special privileges she received and the reputation she had to live up to; like the teenagers of today, she was eager to find her own identity and prove her own worth. “I’m so tired, so darn tired, of being William Allen White’s little girl!” she once said tearfully to one of her teachers.

However, Mary knew that with maturity would come extra burdens. At 16, with her five-foot-three height and her preference for pigtails and khakis, she was still reluctant to wear dresses, to put her hair up, or to focus her interest on any one single boy; in short, she was in no hurry to grow up. She had already been accepted at Wellesley College (Class of 1926), but in the meantime, she was happy to be a young girl nearing the close of her junior year in high school. Her fun-loving nature, expressed in practical jokes and witty banter, existed alongside her strong thirst for justice in the world, a passion that she was able to extend to many in her immediate sphere.

On a Tuesday evening in the spring of 1921, about five weeks shy of her 17th birthday, Mary came home from a hard day’s work at school and changed into her khakis for a refreshing horseback ride. Her father later wrote that “the last hour of her life was typical of its happiness.” As she rode through her hometown, waving to the many friends and acquaintances she encountered, her horse changed course and passed under a tree, where a branch struck Mary’s head.  She slipped off the horse and lost consciousness; later it was shown that the accident had fractured her skull. Mary was brought home; family members were hastily notified; traffic was rerouted away from their neighborhood and telephone calls cut from their home. She died at 5:30 Friday morning, May 13, 1921.

The official death notice from the Associated Press appeared quietly in that week’s Emporia Gazette, but the eulogy on the front page, written by her father and mother, touched the hearts of the nation. It was reprinted in newspapers and magazines across the United States, included in anthologies, and read on radio programs, bringing to life the vivid personality of the youngest member of the White family.

You can read her father’s famous eulogy here: Mary White obituary - Kansapedia - Kansas Historical Society (kshs.org)

A detailed article on Mary’s life can be found on Kansapedia:  Mary Katherine White - Kansapedia - Kansas Historical Society (kshs.org)

By: Katie Keckeisen, Collections Archivist

"[Kansas] is so often referred to – or rather used – as a synonym for all that is mediocre in thought and scenery.  I know the beauties of both because they are a part of me.  Someday I must express them someway – it is a debt I owe."  -from the diary of Alice C. Nichols, 1931.

Alice Nichols seemed born to write.  While is she most well-known for authoring what many believe to be the best book concerning Kansas during the Civil War, her literary prowess began before she even reached adulthood.

Alice C. Nichols was born in Liberal, Kansas, on August 22, 1905, the only daughter of Dr. Roscoe T. & Mrs. Osa C. Nichols.  She published her first newspaper – the handwritten Tiny Town News– when she was just nine years old.  In 1916, her father was deployed overseas in World War I serving as a major in the medical corp.  Alice began publishing The Nichols Journal as a way of giving him all the news from back home in Liberal. 

Other locals began asking for copies of her weekly paper and soon Alice was beyond the limits of what she could publish with her typewriter and carbon paper.  Her father purchased a set of newspaper type and one of the local papers – The Liberal Democrat– allowed Alice to come in every Saturday afternoon to publish The Nichols Journal on their press. 

The paper dealt mostly with local interest stories.  One of The Journal’sfavorite topics was whenever an aviation display came to town and offered rides to locals.  The paper also contained national and international news stories, advertisements from local businesses, and an editorial from Alice.  The editorials covered a wide range of topics, from town boosterism to situation in postwar Europe to getting out the vote during elections.  She also regularly championed women’s rights.

Word began to go around about the young newspaper editor.  By 1921, the paper had over 100 subscribers.  In January of that year, a representative of the Pathe Film Company came to Liberal to film Alice for one of their weekly newsreels.  Images of Alice interviewing subjects for stories, setting the type, running the printing press, and even acting as her own newsboy were soon shown across the nation.  Newspapers around the United States picked up the story and dubbed Alice “the youngest of newspaper publishers.”  By the end of that year, The Nichols Journal had over 125 subscribers; even President Woodrow Wilson received a weekly copy.

The final edition of The Nichols Journal ran on January 8, 1923.  In her last editorial, Alice wrote:

 “it is hard to quit after publishing it for five years, but the additional worries of the Senior year makes it impossible to keep it up longer. […] Some day – after college is finished – we hope that we may get out the list of Journal subscribers and send you all a new Journal – not under the same name perhaps, and we have a hope that it will be in a magazine form or perhaps in the form of a big paper – a daily.  And until that time we wish you all the good luck in the world and may your dreams become realized even as we hope that our will.”

Alice did realize those dreams.  After graduating from Kansas State University with a degree in journalism, she moved to the East Coast where she held several jobs in the publishing world.  She also founded her own company – I.S. Ltd., Inc. – that marketed toys and games.  In 1954, Alice published the work she would become best known for: Bleeding Kansas.  The book is still widely regarded as one of the best-written historical accounts of life in Kansas before the Civil War.  The research and writing of the book took her over ten years. 

Alice’s career came to a premature end when she died of malnutrition on January 6, 1969.  She had been in the hospital for several weeks due to a fractured spine and broken rib.  Many of her friends believed it was Alice’s characteristic stubbornness and unending work-ethic that contributed to her death.  

By: Ethan Anderson, Government Records Archivist

With the 2020 Tokyo Olympics in full swing, we decided to take a look at some past Kansans who have left their marks on the Olympic Games. By our estimates, 76 Kansans have competed in the Summer Olympics, winning a total of 39 gold medals, 14 silver medals, and 13 bronze medals in events from basketball to swimming to weightlifting. Here are a few notable athletes from previous Olympic Games:

Josiah McCracken (front row, second from the right, holding a football) grew up in Garnett and briefly attended Cooper Memorial College, now Sterling College, before competing in the 1900 Summer Olympics in Paris, France. A devout Presbyterian, Josiah refused to compete in any events held on Sunday. He nevertheless managed to win the silver medal in shot put and the bronze medal in the hammer throw. (1) 

Wilson native John Kuck participated in the 1928 Summer Olympics in Amsterdam, Netherlands. He not only won the gold medal in the shot put, but he broke the world record by nearly 13 inches – all while competing on a broken left ankle! (2)

From Jim Ryun to Wes Santee, Kansas has produced a number of phenomenal middle-distance runners. Glenn Cunningham of Elkhart was arguably the best ever. Glenn competed in the 1500-meter run in both the 1932 Olympics in Los Angeles and the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, Germany. He finished fourth in 1932 but captured the silver medal four years later behind Jack Lovelock of New Zealand, whose winning time set a world record. (3)

Ten athletes with ties to the Sunflower State are competing in this year’s Summer Olympics:

Michael Andrew, Swimming – 50m Freestyle, 100m Breaststroke, 200m Individual Medley

Christina Clemons, Track & Field – 100m Hurdles

Mason Finley, Track & Field – Discuss

Adrianna Franch, Soccer

Bryce Hoppel, Track & Field – 800m Run

Derrick Mein, Trap Shooting

Bubba Starling, Baseball

Kelsey Stewart, Softball

Aliphine Tulimuk, Marathon

Leanne Wong, Gymnastics (4)

The last time the Summer Olympics were held in Tokyo, 1964, Haskell Institute and University of Kansas alum Billy Mills pulled off a shocking upset by winning the 10,000-meter run. Here’s hoping this year’s group of athletes perform just as well!

For more notable Kansas Olympians, see http://www.civics.ks.gov/kansas/kansans/olympic-athletes.html.

Sources:

[1] French officials allowed qualifying results to count in the Sunday shot put finals, while the hammer throw finals were ultimately rescheduled for Monday. McCracken also finished 10th in the discus. Kenneth Wiggins Porter, ed., “College Days at Cooper Memorial, 1895-1898” Kansas Historical Quarterly 26, no. 4 (Winter 1960): 396; “Yankee Athletes Barred,” New York Times, July 16, 1900.

[2] “John Kuck,” Kansas Sports Hall of Fame, https://www.kshof.org/team/john-kuck (accessed June 29, 2021).

[3] For more on Glenn Cunningham’s Olympic career, see 312382, 312415, and 312449. “Glenn Cunningham,” Kansas Sports Hall of Fame, https://www.kshof.org/team/glenn-cunningham (accessed June 29, 2021).

[4] Tod Palmer and David Medina, “Kansas City-Area Olympians Who Have Qualified for 2020 Tokyo Games,” KSHB-TV, https://www.kshb.com/sports/kansas-city-area-olympians-who-have-qualified-for-2020-tokyo-games (accessed July 6, 2021); Sophia Lacy, “Olympians with KC Connections to Watch for at the 2021 Tokyo Games,” Kansas City, https://www.kansascitymag.com/olympians-with-kc-connections-to-watch-for-at-the-2021-tokyo-games/ (accessed June 29, 2021).  

By: Ethan Anderson, Government Records Archivist

Every once in a while, an item in the collection piques our interest and we can’t help but investigate further. Such was the case with the below photographs of two women known as Squirrel Tooth Alice and Timberline. The descriptions for both images simply state that the two worked as prostitutes in Dodge City in the 1870s. Though documentation of transient sex workers can be especially difficult to find, we nevertheless decided to do some digging in an effort to tell the stories of the women behind these unusual aliases. As prostitutes in the American West played a crucial role in the growth and economic well-being of frontier towns, studying these women can give us a better understand of the demographics and social norms of these burgeoning communities.

Squirrel Tooth Alice’s unforgettable moniker and long career may explain why so much is known about her. She was born Mary Elizabeth “Libby” Haley in Belton, Texas in 1855. Her wealthy family lost nearly everything in the Civil War and in 1864, further tragedy struck when Comanches raided the family farm and kidnapped her. She spent three years in captivity. Libby’s family paid for her release, but they hardly welcomed her back with open arms. As Libby later recalled, “Through no fault of my own I was seen as a marked woman after my release. Though only 13 years-old most people assumed that I had been ‘used’ by the Indians during my captivity and I was shunned and ostracized from society.” She managed to overcome this stigma and soon fell in love with a much older man. However, when she brought him home to meet her family, her father shot him dead on the front porch. Unable to further tolerate this oppressive environment, Libby ran away to Kansas. With few economic opportunities available to women on the frontier, she became a dance hall girl in Abilene and later moved to Ellsworth and Dodge City. The surprisingly amusing 1870 U.S. census documented Libby in Ellsworth, where she occupied a “house of ill fame.” Perhaps reflecting her irreverent humor, Libby’s occupation was listed as “diddles,” a 19th-century slang term for intercourse. [1]  

Libby most likely worked in a dance hall such as Varieties, pictured above, while in Dodge City. In 1879, the Ford County Globe reported that the town had fourteen saloons, two dance halls, and 47 prostitutes for its 700 inhabitants.[2]

Soon after arriving in Kansas, Libby met William “Texas Billy” Thompson, a gambler, gunman, and cowboy. Due to the nature of the couples’ work and Billy’s run-ins with the law (he accidentally killed Ellsworth Sheriff Chauncey Whitney in 1873), they moved frequently between towns in Kansas, Colorado, and Texas. The two finally settled down in Sweetwater, Texas, where Libby owned and operated a brothel and dancehall. It may have been in Sweetwater where Libby acquired her unusual nickname. Like many prostitutes in the American West, Libby went by an alias: Alice. This eventually morphed into Squirrel Tooth Alice due to a small gap in her front teeth and her fondness for prairie dogs, which she kept as pets. A drunken man one night mistook the animals for squirrels, gave Libby the nickname, and it stuck. She continued to work as a madam until retiring in 1921 at the age of 66. Libby later moved to Los Angeles, California, where she died at a rest home in 1953.[3]

Unlike Squirrel Tooth Alice, frustratingly little is known about the woman in the above photograph known only as Timberline. She does not appear in any census, birth, or death records, Dodge City police dockets, court records, or even newspaper accounts of the day. This photograph seems to be the only evidence of her time in Dodge City. 

Many of Dodge City’s prostitutes plied their trade in the brothels, saloons, and dance halls of the town’s red-light district, located south of the ATSF railroad tracks.

It is widely accepted that Dodge City’s Timberline is the same woman who later worked in the silver mining boom town of Creede, Colorado in the 1890s. She must have done well for herself in the intervening years as writer Perry Eberhart states she was not merely a prostitute by then but one of Creede’s top madams. A February 3, 1893 article in the Creede Candle newspaper provides the only contemporary written account of Timberline. According to the paper, her real name was Rose Vastine and her alias was a reflection of her imposing height of 6’2”. Sadly, the Candle relates that Rose “became weary of the trials and tribulations of this wicked world” and attempted to take her own life with a 41-calibre pistol. Doctors were quickly summoned, and the self-inflicted gunshot wound to her chest did not prove fatal.[4]

Suicide was not uncommon among prostitutes of the time and Rose’s brush with death may not have been her first or last. Writer Jan MacKall says doctors also revived her after an intended overdose, while Eberhart claims she climbed into the hills above Creede one day and shot herself an incredible six times.[5] Unfortunately, these suicide attempts are all that is recorded of Rose Vastine. It appears that well-behaved women are not the only ones who seldom make history.

Sources:

[1] Marshall Trimble, “Squirrel-Tooth Alice,” True West Magazine, March 16, 2021, https://truewestmagazine.com/squirrel-tooth-alice/ (accessed May 5, 2021); Kathie Bell, “Remembering Squirrel Tooth Alice,” Dodge City Daily Globe, September 25, 2017, https://www.dodgeglobe.com/news/20170925/remembering-squirrel-tooth-alice (accessed May 5, 2021); U.S. Census Bureau, Schedule 1, Inhabitants of Ellsworth in Ellsworth County, Kansas, 1870. Libby’s fellow boarders listed their occupations as “does ‘horizontal’ work,” “‘squirms’ in the dark,” and “’ogles’ fools.” Perhaps to protect her true identity, Libby listed her birthplace as Missouri rather than Texas.

[2] “Sparks from Dodge City,” Ford County Globe, September 2, 1879, 4.

[3] For an image of Sheriff Chauncey Whitney, see 213083; Trimble, “Squirrel-Tooth Alice.”

[4] Rose Vastine was not the only prostitute of the era who went by the alias Timberline. One of Irwin, Colorado’s resident sex workers was known as Timberline Kate. However, rather than a reflection of the woman’s height, the moniker referred to her thinning hair. Harry C. Cornwall, “My First Year in the Gunnison Country,” Colorado Magazine 46, no. 3 (Denver: Summer 1969): 241; Perry Eberhart, Guide to the Colorado Ghost Towns and Mining Camps (Chicago: Sage Books, 1969), 402; Creede Candle, February 3, 1893, 4.

[5] Jan MacKall, Brothels, Bordellos, and Bad Girls: Prostitution in Colorado, 1860-1930 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2007), 122; Eberhart, Colorado Ghost Towns, 402. 

By: Ethan Anderson, Government Records Archivist

Following Quantrill’s bloody raid on Lawrence in August 1863, many Kansans wondered if Border Ruffians would next target Topeka. The capital city was relatively undefended. Companies and detachments of troops were stationed there intermittently throughout the Civil War, but no fortifications existed to help protect the city from a sizeable Confederate force. These defensive shortcomings were discussed in 1863, but it wasn’t until Confederate General Sterling Price’s invasion of Missouri the following year that efforts to improve the city’s defenses began in earnest.

In October 1864, while most of the 2nd Regiment of the Kansas State Militia was sent east to stop Sterling’s advance, a portion of the regiment remained in Topeka. This home battalion consisted of 292 men, 65 of whom were Black recruits. These men constructed two sets of trenches on the east side of town as well as a stockade at the intersection of Sixth and Kansas Avenues. This stockade or fort was made of split cottonwood logs and measured 10 feet high and 40 feet in diameter. A flagpole marked its center. The fort’s lone entrance was on the west side, with an opening in all four cardinal directions for its lone cannon. Two rifle ports were cut between each log, allowing one man to shoot while standing and another to fire while kneeling.[1] 

The wide streets and ridgetop location of the fort would have given soldiers inside an excellent view of any approaching Confederate troops. The below drawing shows a Union regiment marching up Sixth Avenue in 1862, two years before the fort’s construction.

After its completion, the fort never received an official name. Some called it Fort Stark in honor of Major Andrew Stark, the officer in charge of its construction. Others labeled it Fort Folly for the seeming impossibility of such a small, poorly equipped stockade successfully repelling a Confederate invasion. In the end, the fort largely went unnamed until after the war, when someone named it Fort Simple after its unimposing nature.[2]

Henry Worrall did not immigrate to Kansas until 1868, so he never saw Fort Simple firsthand. He therefore took some liberties with this sketch, such as the arrangement of the gunports and the location of the fort on the edge of town rather than in the middle of two of its biggest thoroughfares.  

For two weeks in the fall of 1864, with Price’s Confederates still roving through Missouri, the fort and trenches guarding Topeka were manned each night. Security must have been relatively lax, however. One night, two women disguised themselves as men and helped defend the fort until their true identities were discovered the next morning. On October 23^rd, panic swept the capital city when reports came in that Price’s men had defeated Union forces at the Battle of Big Blue near Kansas City. An attack on Topeka seemed imminent. Tensions were relieved the following day when a rider arrived reporting a Union victory rather than defeat.[3]

Once the Confederate threat to Topeka abated, residents quickly tired of Fort Simple. In the months following the end of the Civil War, the city council ordered that the fort’s walls be shortened, and trees planted inside. In April 1867, the fort, which was denounced as an “eye-sore” by The Topeka Weekly Leader, was dismantled, with the exception of its flagpole. The flagpole too was cut down in August of the same year and the Topeka Tribune reported “nothing remains of this historic Fort save the bloodless ground on which it stood.” In 1929, the Shawnee County Old Settlers’ Association erected a bronze tablet on the corner of Sixth and Kansas Avenues to mark where the fort once stood. The tablet was removed during construction in 1995 and was unfortunately lost.[4]

It is believed that the pole in the left of this photograph is the flagpole from Fort Simple. If so, this photograph was taken between April and August of 1867, when only the flagpole remained of the fort.

Sources:

[1] William C. Pollard, Jr. “Forts and Military Posts in Kansas, 1854-1865” (Ph.D. diss., Faith Baptist College and Seminary, 1997), 66; F. W. Giles, Thirty Years in Topeka: A Historical Sketch (Topeka: George W. Crane & Company, 1886), 301-302. One set of trenches was located near the intersection of Eighth Avenue and Madison Streets, while the other was at Sixth Avenue and Jefferson Street.

[2] “Old Settlers’ Meeting,” Topeka Daily Capital (December 6, 1902), 4; George A. Root, “Fort Simple—Fort Folly Topeka,” Shawnee County Clippings 31 (Topeka: Kansas Historical Society, n.d.) 87.

[3] Root, “Fort Simple,” Clippings, 87; Pollard, “Forts and Military Posts,” 118-119.

[4] Root, “Fort Simple,” Clippings, 88; Topeka Weekly Leader, April 18, 1867, 3; Topeka Tribune, August 16, 1867, 3; Pollard, “Forts and Military Posts,” 119. 

By: Lauren Gray, Head of Reference

As we all know, Thanksgiving is a holiday to gather, share, and be thankful. The last year has given us few opportunities to gather, and even fewer to share, so we are thankful that this year many of us will be reunited with family, friends, and loved ones to enjoy the holiday. And what better way to celebrate than over an indulgent meal? From our tables to yours, Happy Thanksgiving!

Turkey 

The turkey, a large, flightless bird indigenous to the Americas, is a mainstay of the Thanksgiving table. How or why the turkey became the holiday centerpiece is open to debate, but be it grilled, roasted, smoked or fried, we love Mr. Gobble. Americans ate 5.26 billion pounds of turkey in 2020, and Kansas farmers raise around 1 million turkeys annually - that’s a lot of turkey legs!

Cranberries

Cranberries, whether you love them or hate them, are here to stay on the Thanksgiving table. Sometimes jellied and sometimes mashed, cranberries’ sour tang is a welcome relief to the oft-overbearing richness of the holiday board. Another food indigenous to America, the cranberry has been harvested in this country for thousands of years. Originally used by early American Indians in pemmican, a shelf-stable mix of dried berries, dried meat, and animal fat, the cranberry now appears in many forms. 

Our Government Records Archivist, Ethan Anderson, was kind enough to share his family’s innovative go-to cranberry recipe. The sour berries are made palatable, he says, by the addition of mashed banana. 

Aunt Sally’s Cranberries

Ingredients:

2 bags cranberries

4 winesap apples, cored (braeburn or granny smith also work)

1 1/2 cups sugar

3 small bananas, mashed

Process:

Grind cranberries and apples (best if you can use a hand meat grinder, but a food processor also works well). Add sugar to the  ground berries & apples.  Refrigerate until shortly before serving, then add mashed bananas and let sit for 15 - 20 minutes so natural sugars can combine. Serve & enjoy!

Sweet Potatoes

Sweet potatoes are yet another ingredient native to the Americas (we’re sensing a theme here…). Sweet potatoes were also harvested by early indigenous people long before European colonists arrived. Similar to the West African yam, the sweet potato was an early and necessary ingredient in the diet of enslaved African Americans, who used sweet potatoes to replace their traditional African ingredients after their forced relocation to America. Freed African Americans then brought their culinary traditions with them when they immigrated to Kansas after the Civil War. 

Pie

3.14159--oh, sorry, you meant Pie, the custardy, warm, comforting, golden-crusted delight. While there are several contenders for the title, in our opinion, Pumpkin Pie is the traditional Thanksgiving dessert. Pumpkins (and other squash and gourds) have been harvested for thousands of years around the world. Early indigenous people in Kansas dried pumpkin to preserve it and to use it for trade. The first American cookbook, published by Amelia Simmons in 1796, presents a recipe for pumpkin pie that is very similar to the pie we bake today, using stewed pumpkin, nutmeg, and eggs. As the saying goes, if it ain’t broke...That being said, our Senior Archivist, Megan Burton, shared her family’s recipe for Pumpkin Chiffon Pie, and may we say, it looks absolutely delightful. 

Pumpkin Chiffon Pie

Pie Crust:

12 Graham Crackers

2Tbsp Sugar

¼ tsp. Salt

6 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted

Filling:

1 envelope unflavored gelatin

¼ cup water

¾ cup sugar

½ tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

½ tsp allspice

¼ tsp nutmeg

1/8 tsp cloves

3 eggs, separated

½ cup whole milk

14.5 ounces pure pumpkin puree

1 tsp vanilla

For the crust:

1. Preheat oven to 325. Pulse graham crackers in food processor to get crumbs. Add sugar and salt to combine. Add butter and mix until consistency of wet sand.
2. Put in a 9 ½ inch baking dish. Press crumbs into bottom and sides of dish. Bake about 20-25 minutes until lightly browned. Transfer to cooling rack to cool completely.

For the filling:

1. Dissolve the gelatin in the water in a small bowl. Let sit for 5 minutes.
2. In a saucepan, combine ½ cup of sugar, salt cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, cloves, egg yolks, milk, and pumpkin. Whisk frequently for about 5-7 minutes over medium-low heat. Cook until mixture is hot and thickened slightly, but doesn’t come to a boil.
3. Remove from heat and stir in the gelatin and vanilla. Cool to room temp on the counter.
4. When the filling has cooled, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Continue beating while gradually adding the rest of the sugar until stiff peaks form.
5. Gently fold in egg whites to the pumpkin mixture, then pour into the cooled pie shell. Refrigerate at least 4 hours until firm. Serve with whipped cream.

From all of us at the State Archives, we wish you a happy and safe Thanksgiving!

References:

https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2015/11/turkey-history-world-thanksgiving/417849/

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/thanksgiving-turkey-quintessentially-american-bird-immigrant-180957382/ 

https://www.eatturkey.org/raising-turkeys/ 

https://www.cjonline.com/story/opinion/2021/11/16/kansas-farmers-worked-share-bountiful-harvest-thanksgiving/8620936002/ 

https://www.cranberries.org/history 

https://extension.umaine.edu/cranberries/cranberry-facts-and-history/ 

https://www.southernkitchen.com/story/eat/2021/07/25/african-american-history-sweet-potato-pie/8089134002/ 

https://blogs.loc.gov/inside_adams/2010/11/a-sweet-potato-history/ 

https://blogs.loc.gov/inside_adams/2017/11/a-brief-history-of-pumpkin-pie-in-america/ 

https://www.loc.gov/item/96126967/ 

A reminiscence of Harriet E. Adams, sister of Zu Adams, from Topeka, KS written June 20, 1928. Harriet Adams is recalling a memorable Christmas from her childhood. She is recalling a memory from the 1870s in Kansas.

(The first page of her typed reminiscence.) 

The Christmas which made the first lasting impression upon my mind, I think, must have been the one following my seventh burthday. Just why those preceding it have left no lasting memory, I can not guess, unless it was that I had reached the age when reason began to take the place of unquestioning faith, and imagination to stir gently.

I remember so distinctly the air of expectancy, and secrecy which invaded the household. Sister Zu was quite active in fostering the spirit. She was an able entertainer, and furnished the stimulation necessary to make the approach of Christmas a very exciting event.

(Zu Adams, 1890s)

Among our books was a volume of selected poems, some of which were illustrated. Zu often read to us from this, and before that Christmas this invaluable collection must have been consulted again and again, for between its covers, somewehere in the middle was a fascinating picture of a jolly, white bearded old man with a sleigh and reindeer and oh! the undescribable delight of that little group as Zu read, "T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse," Then too, the moon and the weather must have fitted in most perfectly to the description "The moon, on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the luster of midnight, to objects below". For, after dark I would peep out of the window, or out of the door to consider anxiously whether all conditions were favorable, the glistening expanse of snow deep enough to support that wondrous reindeer drawn sleigh.

(The Adams children as adults: Harriet is seated in the middle, Zu is seated on the right.) 

Then as Christmas Eve approached, I was filled with anxious questioning as to how St. Nick could get into our house, to fill our waiting stockings. There was no chimney down which he could slide safely, in fact I finally decided that it was an absolute impossibility for him to get into the house through any chimney it possessed. My concern on this matter finally reached such a pitch that I took it up with Mother. I told her my fears, and she said he would most certainly be able to leave his gifts, for when no large chimney was provided, the parents would leave the door open a crack at least, so he could push his way in with no difficulty whatsoever. This was a most reasonable solution of the difficulty, and I was fully satisfied, and later events proved that my faith in her explanation was justified.

No Christmas is ever quite complete without a tree and candles, and we little folk saw all the preparation of the tree. We were living but a short distance from the Little Blue River, and on the bluff nearest our home, was a scattering growth of cedars. Father took us with him as he carried an axe and selected the tree, which he cut and big brother helped carry it home. Then Father set it up securely in the center of the living room, and found piece of tin and made the candle holders, and fastened them to the tree. When that much was accomplished, it was time for the little folk to get to bed, for under no consideration would it be good form for any of the children to be awake when Santa should arrive.

(A christmas tree candleholder from the 1870s) 

Christmas morning we were awake early, but it was an inviolate rule that the tree could not be seen until after breakfast was eaten. So we hurried through a perfunctory meal, then lined up outside the living room door, the least child ready to lead the grand march, while Father and mother went in to remove the sheet with which it has been necessary to cover the tree to protect it from prying eyes, and to light the candles. When the door was opened we marched in and clear around the tree, taking in the beauty of the lighted candles, and the tree festooned with strings of cranberries and popcorn and gay colored ribbons, while we looked for the gifts hidden in the branches and protruding from our stockings. Then there was the most delightful odor of scorching cedar, and Father would keep walking around and around the tree smothering every smoking stem and keeping the candles burning safely, while he and Mother distributed the gifts which Santa Claus had brought.

(A decorated tree from the 1870s) 

I was blissfully happy, and I am sure my little brother George was too, for he was always a happy contented child. There was nothing lacking to make it a perfect Christmas. I have long since forgotten what toys that magic tree bore, except one thing, and that was a Noah's Ark. To this day when Christmas shopping and I see a Noah's Ark among the other toys, I can picture two small children, a little girl and a smaller, sturdy little boy, side by side as they arranged twigs from the Christmas Cedar into rows or groups of trees and placed amongst them the animals which Noah had saved from extinction.

In children the sense of comparative values is largely undeveloped, and I doubt very much if children of the present day, with the profusion of toys now attainable, derive any more joy from the expensive array than did we, with the less expensive and simpler ones which Santa Claus gave us. At any rate, the happiness of that Christmas was never excelled in any later one.

By: Ethan Anderson, Government Records Archivist

As the Super Bowl recently reminded us, advertisers nowadays use a number of gimmicks to sell their products to consumers, from talking animals and catchy music to outlandish special effects and endless celebrity endorsements. Generations ago, things were simpler…and often peculiar. Cigarettes and addictive drugs were touted for their health benefits, farm machinery could be marketed to children, and your pharmacist and hardware store were often one and the same. We’ve combed through our collection to highlight a few advertisements that made us tip our heads in bewilderment like the RCA dog:

Topeka’s Scott Brothers surely sold delicious popsicles, but their tastes in mascots was questionable. What better way to market your product to children than with what looks like a living, breathing, popsicle-eating ventriloquist dummy? Popsicle Pete looks like the 1930s version of Pennywise the Clown and surely made an appearance in more than a few children’s nightmares. 

If you grew up watching Sesame Street, you are probably familiar with the game “One of the These Things,” in which viewers had to spot an out-of-place item in a group of other items. We thought of that game after seeing this photograph of Cowdery’s Drug Store in Ottawa, which specialized in drugs, medicines, and…paints? Though this wasn’t an unusual combination for pharmacies of the period, we’d still prefer to take our business elsewhere.

While E.B. Guild’s advertisements are pretty standard, their upstairs neighbor Professor Field leaves us with one very important question: How common were intestinal parasites in the 1880s that people could make a living marketing themselves as strictly tape worm specialists?! H. G. Wells must have been imagining an escape from the Victorian Era’s intestinal minefield when he wrote The Time Machine.

After seeing this delivery truck for the Pet Milk Company of Iola, we have soooo many questions. We hope the owner’s surname was Pet, otherwise were they marketing ice cream to pets? Were they milking pets to create the ice cream? We can’t think of a better illustration of the importance of a good brand name. 

Who needs aspirin, insulin, penicillin or any other wonders of modern medicine when there’s Dr. Perdue’s Ague Cure? Touted as the remedy for everything from headaches to heart disease and fever to “female weakness,” this snake oil could apparently do anything but sell itself. We find his claim that the drug was equal to the seven wonders of the world COMBINED as outrageous, egregious, preposterous.

Have you ever been redecorating your home and thought “while I’m out shopping for a new kitchen table and a couch for the living room, it sure would be convenient to also pick out my casket”? If that’s the case (and we hope it isn’t), then E. W. Dowd’s is the store for you! We also have a few questions for Dowd’s neighbor Brown, who felt the need to specify that he was “the live” druggist. Ottawa in 1898 must have been an unusual place. 

By: Lauren Gray-Head of Reference

In celebration of spring finally arriving, here is a short history of Rabbits on the range. 

Bunnies: children love to chase them, hawks love to hunt them, and farmers struggle to build just the right rabbit-proof fence. Rabbits have a long history in Kansas. Whether it’s a cute, bouncing cottontail in your backyard or the scourge of your garden patch, rabbits have been ubiquitous on the range for over 40 million years. 

Cottontails and jackrabbits are members of the taxonomic order Lagomorpha and are not rodents. Rabbits in Kansas live aboveground. They are crepuscular, which means they are most active at dawn and dusk, though you may see more out on a cloudy day. They are herbivores (which means they only eat vegetables and fruits) and enjoy a full range of wild and domestic plants, including dandelion greens, lettuce, clover, and herbs. (Remember, Thumper, you can’t just eat the flowers!) During the winter, they will eat the bark from trees, and small stems and saplings. Rabbits also recycle their own poop (called cecotropes), which means if a bunny invites you over for dinner, it’s BYO! 

The Cottontail rabbit is indigenous to Kansas. Cottontails usually have light brown coats on top and white bellies underneath and are named for their bright white tails. Cottontails can run up to 18 mph and can jump 15 feet in a single leap! There are three types of Cottontails in Kansas. Eastern Cottontails live mostly in areas with excess tree and shrub growth and are the most common. Desert Cottontails live on the dry plains of Western Kansas and make their homes in the tall grasses that roll across the landscape. Swamp rabbits live in the southeastern part of the state, and are slightly larger than their cousin Cottontails, but smaller than jackrabbits. This particular type of rabbit makes its habitat along rivers and creeks and near wetland. Aptly named, they are accomplished swimmers and divers. However, don’t try to take your bunny to the pool with you - not all rabbits like water!

Jackrabbits, while also native to Kansas, are technically members of the Hare family, and are not considered rabbits, despite their name. Jackrabbits are larger than Cottontails, and both White-tailed and Black-tailed Jackrabbits make their homes here. Jackrabbits have long, skinny legs, and large ears. Their coat changes color with the season. Like Swamp Rabbits, these hares can swim. While Cottontail rabbits are born blind and hairless, jackrabbits are bushy-tailed, bright-eyed and ready for mischief just a few hours after birth. 

Rabbits and jackrabbits are prey animals and have many natural predators in Kansas. Bobcats, hawks, coyotes, snakes, domesticated dogs and cats, and even humans are some of the many predators that have a taste for bunnies. Eyes on the sides of their heads means they do not see well straight-on, but which enables them to see above them for circling predators. 

(Exaggerated postcard, 1909)

Rabbits and jackrabbits were an important resource for early Kansans. Native peoples used their pelts for clothing and bedding and supplemented their diets with rabbit meat. Community members would participate in rabbit drives by crafting large nets and driving local wildlife into them in order to kill a large number of animals at a time. This provided a positive resource-to-output ratio (i.e. getting more product for less effort).

The unusual image below represents a rabbit or jackrabbit carved into hematite. The carving was discovered by archaeologists from the Kansas Historical Society in a pre-Wichita village dating from 1400 CE -1700 CE. While its exact purpose is unknown, it certainly bears a stunning resemblance to Kansas’s wild inhabitants! 

When settlers moved to Kansas in the mid-19^th century and began to clear fields for farming, they disrupted the ecological balance of the landscape. James R. Mead, writing to his family of the bountiful Kansas landscape in 1859, noted that he had “seen rabbits almost as large as our dog ‘Watch’ and very fine eating.”  

While rabbits are often portrayed as cute, decorative creatures, like in this Easter card from the early 19^th century, the reality was much different on the range.

American agricultural practices created an unstable environment for Cottontails and jackrabbits. As farmers pushed into native habitats, massive soil erosion and over-extension of farmland contributed to the ecological disaster known as the “Dust Bowl.” Four periods of intense drought devastated Western Kansas during the 1930s and financially ruined many Kansas farmers. 

As natural predators died off or were removed, jackrabbit numbers increased past the point of environmental sustainability. Jackrabbits can have up to four litters a year and Cottontails can have up to five, which means a lot of hungry baby bunnies! While adorable, they are also incredibly destructive to the environment. Rabbits’ teeth never stop growing, which means they must chew frequently to wear them down. These hungry critters will eat crops--including young fruit trees, a staple for many Kansas farmers--down to the root. 

To preserve farmland in Kansas, communities would participate in “rabbit drives,” similar to how early Native people hunted rabbits. People young and old would gather to round up the local jackrabbit populations. Organizers would set up a large, fenced area in a field, and men, women, and children would line up in two rows and approach the enclosed area from all sides, banging on pots and pans to scare the jackrabbits before them and ultimately into the enclosure. Once trapped, dusty chaos would ensue as the organizers either bludgeoned their captive prey or rounded up the jackrabbits for transport to states with lower jackrabbit populations. 

The meat from these drives was a free and nutritious commodity in western communities that were hit hard by the Dust Bowl and Great Depression. It has only been recently that rabbits and hares have reentered modern cuisine after many years of being stereotyped as a poor man’s food. 

Rabbits have also been kept as domesticated animals for several centuries for both companionship and as a meat and fur resource. Domesticated rabbits are descendants of European Wild Rabbits and are not related to Cottontails or jackrabbits. Rabbits raised for the commercial industry are kept on “rabbit ranches.” Most consumers are familiar with the luxurious Angora pelts, but many breeds of rabbits and hares are raised for meat and fur. While the Kansas Department of Agriculture regulates other meat industries (like beef), rabbit ranches that produce under 250 rabbits annually are not subject to registration or inspection. 

For those more interested in befriending Bugs than sautéing him, rabbits are currently one of the most popular pets in the United States, after dogs and cats. While the exact number of domesticated rabbits in Kansas is not known, there are over six million rabbits kept domestically in the U.S. Domestic rabbits come in many breeds, and there are several licensed breeders in Kansas. Pet bunnies are very different from their wild counterparts. Domestic rabbits cannot survive in the wild, as they lack the survival instincts that would enable them to find food and shelter. Domestic rabbits live much longer than wild rabbits when properly cared for; it’s not unusual for pet rabbits to live 8-13 years, while Cottontails only live 2-3 in the wild. Organizations like the Kansas State Rabbit Breeders Association regularly sponsor rabbit shows and promote rabbits as household pets or 4-H projects. Many domestic rabbits are available for adoption through local shelters. These bunnies are friends, not food! 

Rabbits and jackrabbits play an important role in our state’s eco-system. They are an important resource for predators, enabling a complex food chain to thrive. Rabbits also manage weed overgrowth through their prolific consumption. For rabbit breeders and ranchers, they provide economic support, and for domestic rabbit owners, bunnies provide companionship and love.

Helpful tips when encountering rabbits: if you see a wild rabbit, don’t try to handle it without protection. Wild rabbits carry diseases like Tularemia. If a wild rabbit is injured, call a wildlife rescue association. If you spot a domestic rabbit on the loose, contact your local humane society or rabbit rescue group.

Bibliography:

https://dickinsoncountyconservationboard.com/2018/08/13/7-cute-cottontail-facts/

https://www.ford.k-state.edu/environment/rabbits-hares.html#:~:text=Cottontail%20rabbits%20are%20found%20throughout,weigh%202%20to%204%20pounds.

https://www.kansasmemory.org/item/204928

https://ninnescahlife.wichita.edu/node/559

https://drought.unl.edu/dustbowl/Home.aspx

https://agriculture.ks.gov/divisions-programs/meat-and-poultry-inspection/general-information

By: Lauren Gray, Head of Reference

Ask anyone what their favorite road trip snack is, and sunflower seeds will likely appear somewhere between corn nuts and Doritos. While the spit-and-flick motion is ubiquitous to long car rides, sunflowers have a long history in Kansas both for their aesthetic appeal and nutritional value.

Native to North America, there are 67 different varieties of sunflower (Helianthus Annuus). It grows best in full sun and well-drained soil. Although the sunflower is the state flower of Kansas, it is found as far north as Minnesota and Saskatchewan and as far south as Texas. Sunflowers can be either annual or perennial, depending on the variety. The sunflower is remarkably sturdy and can be grown easily in most types of soil due to its deep roots (up to six feet!) and drought tolerance. However, the domestic crop in the United States is prone to pests, and sunflowers use a relatively high amount of insecticide compared to other crops. Sunflowers also deplete the soil, so they are not grown commercially in the same spot every year.

According to the National Sunflower Association, the domestication of the sunflower may predate that of corn (maize). Early American Indian tribes cultivated sunflowers for their seeds, which could be ground, roasted, or harvested for their oil. The plant could also be used for dye in textiles, and when dried the stalk could be used as a building material. Sunflowers also served a ceremonial function.

Even today, sunflowers also provide crucial winter food for wildlife, if the field is left uncleared after the harvest. Wildlife, including migratory birds, deer, even bear and moose, are attracted to sunflower fields in the spring and summer for the dense foliage and nutritional seeds.

Early European colonizers were enchanted with the sunflower, and Spaniards transported it to Europe in the 16^th century. While its use was mainly ornamental, sunflower seeds gained popularity in Russia in the 18^th century because their oil could be consumed during Lent. Extracting sunflower oil became a major industry in Russia.

Increased emigration from the Baltics in the 1880s brought the sunflower back to the United States. Russian emigrants carried the seeds with them to Kansas and the Midwest. The seeds were cultivated both as a feed for livestock and humans, and for their oil.

In 2022, there are two commercially grown types of sunflowers: The Oilseed variety is grown for its oil; and the Non-Oilseed variety is grown for food products and ornamentation. Most consumers will recognize the large, round yellow-petaled single-stalk flower, but there are many smaller varieties that grow like weeds along railroad tracks and fence lines.

Sunflower imagery is present in many aspects of Kansas’s history.

The brightly colored petals and lush foliage evoke a fruitful and bountiful landscape, which appealed to many farmers who immigrated to the state. (Ironically, today the sunflower is grown in high-salinity soil in regions too arid to support other crops.)

There are few state flowers better known than the Kansas sunflower (officially adopted in 1903), and its image is promoted through advertisements, post cards, political messaging, and artwork.

The sunflower’s use is promoted through the Kansas Sunflower Commission, which is responsible for ensuring the economic viability of growing the crop commercially. The sunflower’s enduring appeal makes it a fixture in the legacy of the state, and Kansas wouldn’t be quite as ‘sunny’ without it.

Bibliography and additional reading:

https://extension.umn.edu/flowers/sunflowers

https://www.sunflowernsa.com/  

https://www.kshs.org/kansapedia/sunflower/16899 

By: Lauren Gray, Head of Reference

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but it often doesn’t tell the full story. In the days before cell phones and cameras, tourists would keep travelogues during their journeys to record their thoughts. A travelogue is a written account about travel to a particular place and is a way to reflect on the experience. Many people who traveled to Kansas kept accounts of what they saw and did, who they met, and even what they ate. Travelogues also capture important historic events and are a lens into a moment in time.

Travelers came to Kansas for many reasons. Some came to see the sights, while others came to make their homes here. Many recorded their experiences in journals, diaries, and letters sent to loved ones back home. Two notable diarists from the time, contemporaries Carl “Ado” Hunnius and Abbie Bright, were astute observers and included many colorful details in their travelogues. Their travelogues document their experiences with Native peoples, the uncomfortable rigors of traveling, Kansas diseases like ague, and how Abbie and Ado perceived their place in Kansas. Abbie also made several acute observations on what it meant to be a woman on the frontier.

Abbie Bright was born in Pennsylvania and came to Kansas as a young woman to help her brother on his homestead. While she only stayed a season, her canny observations and thoughtful descriptions leave a lasting impression. Abbie arrived in Kansas by stagecoach during a period in which it was unusual for a woman to travel alone. 

May 1 1871—Ninnescah River Kans.

Crossed the Mississippi at night, reached Kansas City next morning, where I had to change cars, and have my trunk rechecked. …[The Conductor]said the winds were so strong, that by the end of a month, I would be tanned the color of a buff envelop… They changed horses every ten or twelve miles, and at times drove like fury. Sometimes your head would bang against the top; then those riding out side, would call, "How's that for high." A very common expression out here.  When we came to rough places—the driver usually called out "Make yourselves firm." Knowing what to expect, we grabed hold of the side of stage or the seat, and avoided getting badly thumped…I was the only woman, and kept quiet, and tried to be dignified, whether it was a success or not I do not know; but I do know that I was always treated with courtsey… I was treated with the greatest respect. 

Ado Hunnius was another traveler to comment on his travels in Kansas. A Civil War veteran, Ado was born in New York and traveled extensively around the country. He was also an accomplished sketch artist and included many drawings in his diary. He traveled through Kansas in January 1876 to visit the Arapaho and Cheyenne Tribes in what was then Indian Territory.

The passage of the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 opened Kansas to white settlement and displaced the tribes already living there. By the time Abbie and Ado visited in the 1870s, tensions were increasing between settlers and Native peoples.

Ado wrote about meeting Cheyenne children at a school run by the U.S. government. Ado was a shrewd observer, but he viewed Native peoples through a lens tinted by racism and the belief in his own cultural superiority. He used words that we find hurtful and disrespectful today, but we have left them in the text to reflect the original language.

Monday. January 17 I876

Got out of bed at 6i o'clock had brackfas in Company Kitchen hash, got the wagon hitched up and went to to town, saw Mr. Miles the Indian Agent…we went to his office, just a few minutes before some photographs was given to some Cheyenne women, which had come in this morning, it being ration day, of their husbands and sons now held prisoner by the govement in Florida, who took part in the murders comitted in 1874 Those women had on the spot' a whaling, she cried and did awful. She had plenty help on the other squaws and girls, it seemed to me as if the men did not care much though one can hardly tell what an Indians face is about to express… Then we saw the school, the most interesting to me, on the right to me in two rows of desk a two the boys on the other side the girls all dressed nice, boys in shoes, stockings, dark blue (navy) pants, vest and jackets, they wear, grey velt [felt] hats. The girls have a calico dress a moderate pattern, and their hair praited in two strains and tied together, hanging down. —  Miss Lina Miles as teacher, was just bussy to call out the names of the boys, each one having now lost their Indian name and being christianed The Superintendent Mr. Leger was there too. The teacher called for instance David, Mr. Leger had a list, children being numberd, not on their person but the desks seats, he motioned to the boy to rise and say present, which was pretty well understood and pronounced…Thence we went up stairs where there were sick, and sleeping rooms for girls and boys…

Abbie also remarked on the passing of the tribes from the area around her brother’s homestead, who were displaced because of settlers like Abbie and her brother:

May 8 - Two weeks today since I left Hirams [Abbie’s brother].  No letter in all that time.  This is a new settlement.  A year ago, I do not think there was a white woman within 20 miles of here, and last Winter the Osage Indians camped along the river, their teepes are still standing.  Now there are several [white] families scattered along the River. 

Kansas was much different than what Ado and Addie had experienced back east. The state was still largely rural and sparsely populated and was still very frontier-like. There were few modern amenities, and living was hard.

Abbie described her experience with the “ague,” a mosquito-borne illness similar to malaria. (Little House on the Prairie readers will remember Laura and her family suffering something similar during their time in Kansas.) Abbie and her brother Philip were periodically ill during the summer of 1871.

On August 10, Abbie wrote:

Baked yesterday, in p. m. fever came worse than ever. P said I was getting ready for the ague, and had better take quinine. So I did, and this a. m. another dose, by to­morrow I think the quinine will help me. I do not have chills. Shall not tell the home folks, it would only worry them. Philip went to W this morning, and will bring me writing paper. Copies of a W paper and their compliments ct. came. I will write another article—as soon as I am free of this pesteriferous ague. 

While neither Ado nor Abbie settled permanently in Kansas, they were part of a larger migration of people westward. During her stay, Abbie purchased 160 acres of land in Kansas as an “investment.” If the land were in Pennsylvania, she said, “it would be worth a fortune.” At the end of August 1871, Abbie wrote:

I am asked sometimes, if I am not sick of Kansas.  No I am not; Hiram wanted me to go along back – but I said I would stay my two months yet.  It is very sickly, but so it is in most counties, people are careless too.  Philip was not over the bilious spell – when we all went on the buffalo hunt and the long ride in the sun was too much.  I took that walk through the wet grass the day the boys left, and ate mushmellens at Lanes.  Which I should not have done.  So it is nearly all carelessness.  I would dearly like to go on another hunt and not be so hurried.  The sun is setting, the sky is a glorious vision of colors.

While they are less circumspect about their individual roles in history, there is a sense in both Abbie and Ado’s diaries that Kansas in the 1870s was on the precipice of change. The presence of white settlers was changing the face of the prairie and its people. They documented the destruction of Native peoples’ traditional way of life, even as their very presence helped precipitate that destruction.

Near the end of his diary, Ado entered this sobering note:

Saturday, January 22d 1876

Woke early of a curious noise I heard, it came from the Indian camp, U-chie sang his mouring song or “whaling.”  I being told afterwards by Mr. Hopkins that he lost in the last 6 weeks 9 out of his two tents most children…  

These travelogues provide a glimpse into the unique and tumultuous history of the period and help today’s readers understand the complexity of westward expansion, and the roles of individuals in history.

Ado and Abbie’s diaries are available in their entirety on Kansas Memory.

By: Ethan Anderson, Government Records Archivist

President William Henry Harrison did not leave behind many long-lasting legacies when he died suddenly of pneumonia in 1841, except of course, a reminder to always dress appropriately for the weather. He did, however, leave the political world with a slogan far more memorable than his presidency: “Tippecanoe and Tyler Too!” Since then, politicians at the local, state, and national level have all tried, with varying degrees of success, to find the perfect campaign slogan to capture the hearts, minds, and most importantly votes of the electorate. With the November elections fast approaching, here are a few of our favorite campaign advertisements from the collection.

The excitement in the above ad for Omar Ketchum could fit inside a Sandhill plum. Vote for Ketchum! Is he a great leader? Is he a fantastic candidate? Is he the best man for the job? Well, no, but at least he’s ok. If Ketchum were running for Governor of Oklahoma, “Ketchum Is O.K. For OK” would be a fine slogan, but it’s easy to see why Kansas voters were somewhat unenthused by his campaign. Ketchum went on to win the Democratic primary but lost to incumbent governor Alf Landon in the November 1934 election.

What’s in a name? Well, if you’re running for political office, sometimes plenty of fodder for the opposition. Case in point: Sam Hardage. Today, we can only imagine Hardage getting skewered by messages like “Hardage? Hard Pass” or “Hardage = Hard Times.” Kansans apparently found him a hard sell in the gubernatorial campaign of 1982, where he lost to incumbent governor John Carlin. Talk about hard ache.

What a difference four years makes. In 1928, Herbert Hoover and Topekan Charles Curtis were able to coast to victory behind the slogan “Vote to Continue Prosperity.” By 1932, the stock market had lost 80% of its value, the economy had contracted by one-third, and one quarter of all Americans were unemployed.[1] Though the causes of the Great Depression were numerous and cannot be blamed solely on the two men, it is safe to assume their reelection campaign in 1932 featured a far less rosy message. They wisely steered clear of the banner “It Wasn’t Our Fault,” but still lost in a landslide to Franklin D. Roosevelt.

A few things caught our eye about this 1972 campaign brochure for Morris Kay: the odd overuse of ellipses, the 50-year-old issues still relevant today, such as renewable energy, infrastructure, and removing the sales tax on food. But the thing that struck us most was the simple and effective slogan “Kay for Kansas.” Unfortunately for Kay, the ad wasn’t enough to convince the majority of Kansans that he was a diamond in the rough. We’d like to think that after his 1972 defeat by incumbent governor Robert Docket, Kay went into the jewelry business and morphed this slogan into “Every Kiss Begins with Kay.”

Whenever we see this campaign brochure for Attorney General Bob Stephan, we can’t help but think of Shania Twain’s 1997 hit single “You’re Still the One.” Though Stephan ran for office 11 years before that song’s release, you’ll have to wait until our fan mail is answered before we can definitely declare the song was not written about Shania Twain’s favorite Midwest Attorney General. Stephan was victorious in November 1986, which we assume inspired Shania to pen another one of her hit songs: “You Win My Love.”

Speaking of politicians preempting elements of pop culture, Mike Hayden’s “I Like Mike” campaign preceded Gatorade’s “Be Like Mike” commercials featuring basketball superstar Michael Jordan by five years. Hayden’s campaign undoubtedly harkened back to Dwight Eisenhower’s 1952 “I Like Ike” campaign, so how forward-thinking it truly was is up for debate. Nevertheless, Hayden’s slogan proved just as effective as Eisenhower’s and Gatorade’s and he went on to win the 1986 election against Tom Docking.

Please remember to vote this November 8th!

Sources:

[1] David C. Wheelock, “The Great Depression” (lecture, St. Louis Federal Reserve Bank, St. Louis, MO, July 11, 2013). 

By Lauren Gray, Head of Reference  

The weather outside may be frightful, but we can still find ways to enjoy the winter season. Over the years, Kansans have learned to embrace our state’s harsh but beautiful winter landscape. In this post, we have curated a small collection of images that show Kansans enjoying cold weather activities.

***

Ice skating has been a favorite winter activity for hundreds of years. Gliding over crystalline ice while sucking in lungsful of brisk Arctic air is a magical way of experiencing winter at its finest and can be enjoyed by both young and old.

Sledding is another favorite pastime on snowy winter days. With the right sled, you can make any molehill a mountain! What’s even better than sledding? A snow day!

Kansas is home to a great deal of natural beauty, especially in the winter.

Ice has captured this waterfall and holds it frozen like a moment in time.

When you venture outside in the winter, be sure to bundle up tight!

***

As Andy Williams once crooned, “it’s the most wonderful time of the year,” and we couldn’t agree more.

Wishing everyone a happy and safe holiday season!

-The Kansas State Archives

By: Ethan Anderson, Government Records Archivist

For nearly 60 years the city of Topeka was home to one of the premier institutions for Black learning in the state of Kansas: the Kansas Technical Institute. Founded by schoolteachers Edward Stephens and Izie Reddick in 1895, the Industrial and Educational Institute, as it was originally known, began as a kindergarten, sewing school, and reading room in a small, one-room house in the Mud Town neighborhood. It quickly outgrew this first home, as well as two subsequent locations along Kansas Avenue. The school’s rapid rise caught the attention of prominent educator and intellectual Booker T. Washington. Its close ties to Washington’s Tuskegee Institute in Alabama soon earned the Topeka institute the moniker “the Western Tuskegee.”[1]

To satisfy the growing needs of the Industrial and Educational Institute, the school purchased 105 acres of farmland a few miles east of Topeka in 1903. This 1921 plat map shows the grounds of the school, labeled the “Industrial Institute,” on the eastern edge of town. Here, the school’s curriculum focused on vocational trades, with male students learning carpentry, painting, printing, bookbinding, tailoring, and architectural and mechanical drawing, while female students were taught sewing, dressmaking, cooking, laundering, and housekeeping. The new campus also allowed students to receive hands-on training in agriculture, horticulture, stock raising, poultry raising, and market gardening. Principal Clement Richardson reported, “All the farm work, all the truck-garden work, the caring for and milking of the cows, care of pigs and poultry, the upkeep of the grounds, the janitor work of the buildings, the cooking and serving of food, the laundering of clothing, and the general repair work, are all tasks performed by students.” Carpentry students even assisted with the erection of new buildings on campus.[2]

(The grounds of the Kansas Vocational School as they appeared in 1925.)

In 1925, the Industrial and Educational Institute was renamed the Kansas Vocational School. The biennial report for the 1925-1926 school year showed an enrollment of 203 students. Though roughly one-third of these students came from the Topeka area, 26 other Kansas counties and 9 other states were also represented, with students coming from as far away as Los Angeles, California, and Chicago, Illinois.[3]

(A 1928 advertisement listing the trades offered at the Kansas Vocational School.)

(A list of the faculty and staff of KVS during the 1933-1934 school year.)

As the decades progressed, the Kansas Vocational School evolved to meet the changing needs of its students. Its course offerings adapted to include auto mechanics, barbering, carpentry, chef training and catering, masonry, commerce, cosmetology, fashion design, industrial drafting, and tailoring. The school’s extracurricular activities also expanded. Students could participate in football, basketball, track, chorus, glee club, band, orchestra, drama, Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC), and other social clubs. In 1951, the school was again renamed, this time to the Kansas Technical Institute.[4]

Despite its continued success, KTI faced increased criticism by the 1950s. Senator Wilfrid Cavaness (R-Chanute), chairman of the Senate Ways and Means Committee, and other critics complained that too many of the school’s students were from out of state and only attended night classes, thereby increasing its expenses. However, costs per student at KTI were in fact comparable to those at other regents’ institutions. In November 1954, the Kansas Board of Regents issued a resolution calling for the closure of the Kansas Technical Institute, claiming that vocational training was offered at a number of other educational institutions in the state. Nevertheless, the Board’s, as well as Sen. Cavaness’s, primary justification for closing KTI was the Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka decision, which six months earlier had ruled that segregated schools were unconstitutional. Although KTI had been integrated since the 1949-1950 school year and white students often comprised over 25% of the school’s student body, Sen. Cavaness dubiously asserted that KTI “is in fact and always will be considered” a segregated school. In his termination letter, KTI President G. Robert Cotton took particular issue with this line of reasoning, stating,

I regret that there are some people in this state who are of the opinion that the color of my skin and the background of my racial origin (along with my fellow co-workers) causes this institution to be segregated, while on the other hand considering those of a lighter skin and of a different racial origin operating under parallel conditions as not operating a segregated institution.[5]

Ultimately, the vociferous opposition of President Cotton and his allies in the state senate was not enough to save the school. On April 6, 1955, Senate Bill 329 was signed into law, KTI was closed, and the campus was turned over to the State Highway Patrol, Department of Administration, and the Hillcrest Tuberculosis Sanitorium. Today, the former buildings of the Kansas Technical Institute are now home to the Topeka Correctional Facility at 815 SE Rice Road.[6]

Though shuttered, the Kansas Technical Institute has again been in the news recently due to the work of local activist Curtis Pitts. Pitts has called for the former grounds of KTI to be returned to the Black community, arguing that the 1910 deed transferring the school to the state did so with the express condition that the land be used for the continued education of Black youth.[7] Whether or not this endeavor leads to the resurrection of the Kansas Technical Institute remains to be seen.

Sources:

[1] Not only did Washington serve on the advisory board of the Industrial and Educational Institute, but the school’s principal and five of its teachers were graduates of Tuskegee Institute. M. R. Powell, “The Western Tuskegee,” Kansas Chief (Troy), July 25, 1907; “Called ‘Western Tuskegee,’” Evening Herald (Ottawa), August 31, 1908; Kansas Vocational School Student Handbook, 1946-1947 (Topeka: State Printer, 1946), 5.

[2] “The Western Tuskegee,” Mail and Breeze (Topeka), February 20, 1904; Kansas, State Board of Administration, Seventh Biennial Report of the Kansas Vocational School, Topeka, Kansas, for the Two Years Ending June 30, 1932 (Topeka: Kansas State Printing Plant, 1932), 7.

[3] Kansas, State Board of Administration, Fourth Biennial Report of the Kansas Vocational School, Topeka, Kansas, for the Two Years Ending June 30, 1926 (Topeka: Kansas State Printing Plant, 1926), 17-18.

[4] John W. Hayes, memorandum to the Governor, et al., n.d., Kansas State Historical Society, SP 371.94T, pam. v. 2; “Kansas Technical Institute, Topeka, Kansas,” n.d., KSHS, SP 371.94T, pam. v. 2.

[5] G. Robert Cotton, memorandum to Faculty, Staff, Students, and Friends of the Kansas Technical Institute, January 10, 1955, KSHS, SP 371.94T, pam. v. 2.

[6] “Closing of Kansas Technical School Here Considered,” Topeka State Journal, January 19, 1953; “Per Capita Cost of Students Attending Institutions Under the Kansas Board of Regents,” KSHS, SP 371.94t, pam. v. 2; G. Robert Cotton, “General Information Concerning Kansas Technical Institute in Regards to Its Status and Place in the Educational Picture of Kansas,” February 26, 1953, KSHS, SP 371.94t, pam. v. 2; “Senate Votes to End KTI,” Topeka Daily Capital, March 29, 1955.

[7] Jason Tidd, “Kansas Turned a Black Vocational School into a Prison. Topeka Activist Wants It Returned,” Topeka Capital-Journal, June 11, 2022.

By: Lauren Gray, Head of Reference

Abbie Bright is a name most of the Kansas Historical Society staff will recognize, if only because her writing was so extensive that she shows up in virtually every catalog search we do. But Abbie is more than a touchstone in our catalog – she was a vivacious and independent young woman at a time when it was rare for women to wander so far afield. It is also one of history’s small ironies that her surname so aptly described her: bright, as well as bold, daring, yet with an eye for quiet detail and a knack for assessing her own character. In attitude, Abbie was a conventional 19^th century woman, but in action, she was startlingly unconventional, and it is this dichotomy that makes Abbie and her diary an enduring historical resource.

Born in Danville, Pennsylvania in 1848, Abbie worked as a teacher after she finished school. In 1871, she traveled to Indiana and Kansas to visit her brothers, who had struck out West after the Civil War. Abbie kept a diary during her trip, and recorded her thoughts and feelings, as well as vivid descriptions of her journey and details of her encounters with people on the frontier. Even twenty years after becoming a state, Sedgwick County was rural and sparsely settled. During her time in Kansas, Abbie’s brother, Phillip Bright, encouraged her, as an unmarried woman, to utilize the Homestead Act to invest in 160 acres of land in Sedgwick County.

From her diary, April 1871:

Brother Philip wrote his address is Wichita Kans. He had spent the winter in Kans. and Indian Territory. He says … if I want to come west, I can take up Government Land, and after living on it six months, can prove up on it by paying $1 1/4 an acre for it. He took up a claim some time ago, and if I go—I can stay with him, his house is almost finished. I am only to take heavy strong clothing, and what ever I will want for a bed. The rout is via Quincy— Kansas City, Topeka, Emporia—There a stage runs to Wichita, where he will meet me…If I decide to go, I shall do so at once. … I wonder what mother will say, when she hears I am going to Kans.

Abbie’s time in Kansas was marked by extreme weather, ague, and the rigors of frontier life. The only thing she craved more than mail from home was flour to make bread. She spent much of her time doing domestic tasks at her brother’s cabin. She made lasting friends, including Frank, a young man who lived in Wichita and who asked permission to write to her. While Abbie does not confirm if she agreed, Frank was a doting figure during her time in Kansas.

From her diary, June 1871

Frank gave me three arrows that had been shot into a buffalo.  Last winter when out hunting they shot a buffalo that the Indians had been chacing, and there were seven arrows sticking in him, and he gave me three.  I think them quite a curiosity.  It was not easy for the Indians to kill a buffalo, unless they shot them in the eye or back of the front leg in the heart.  Their skull is so thick an arrow glances off.

Unlike many settlers in Kansas, Abbie did not intend to stay forever. Despite her fondness for the new state and the many friends she made during her stay, she lived in Kansas less than a year. Abbie eventually resettled in Iowa. She married William Achenback in 1873 and became an active and beloved member of her community. Abbie’s diary and correspondence passed down to her grandson, who donated them to the Kansas Historical Society.

From her diary, November 1871

Now I have had the last look at my Kansas claim, and the dug out.  Where I spent many weeks.  I felt real sorry to leave.  As I stood alone by the dug out – no one in sight, no visible sign of civilization…  I felt depressed, I was so glad to be with Philip for over seven months.  Now I was leaving, when would I see him again?... I do not like changes.

History catches up with us in interesting ways. Earlier this year, Director Sarah Dougherty at the Beaman Community Memorial Library approached the Kansas Historical Society’s Archaeology Department about the arrowhead Abbie had acquired during her stay in Kansas. Whether it was the gift from Frank, or something she purchased as a souvenir while in Kansas, after her death, the arrowhead had passed to her descendants and stayed in Iowa, while her papers had journeyed, again, to Kansas. The Beaman Community Memorial Library, with the permission of the donor’s family, is transferring custody of the arrowhead to the Kansas Historical Society on April 7^th, 2023. After over 150 years, Abbie’s arrow is coming home.

For more information about Abbie Bright, her papers, her time in Kansas, and the effect of white settlement on the frontier, you can refer to the following sources:

Abbie Bright Diary: https://www.kansasmemory.org/item/223662

Abbie Bright Correspondence: https://www.kansasmemory.org/item/223719

Abbie Bright Papers: https://www.kshs.org/archives/40293

Kansas Travelogues Blog: https://www.kansasmemory.org/blog/page/2

Kansapedia: https://www.kshs.org/kansapedia/topic/american-indians 

By: Lauren Gray, Head of Reference

Upon entering our Research Room at the State Archives, one of the first things you’ll see is row upon row of gray metal cabinets. Inside each of these cabinets are thousands of reels of microfilm, micro reproductions of documents on a cellulose acetate base, which resembles old VCR film. These reels contain a variety of documents and records, the most numerous of which are reproductions of newspapers.

Newspapers are the ‘bread and butter’ of the Kansas Historical Society’s collections, but they also have a larger legacy. The historical society was founded in 1875 by a group of Kansas newspaper publishers and editors who recognized the need to preserve the history of the state. Newspapers were one of the earliest items collected by the Historical Society and continue to be a vitally important part of the State Archives’ collections. The first newspaper was printed in Kansas Territory in 1854, and it can still be viewed in the State Archives’ Research Room or online. By 1916, KHS could boast of having one of the largest collections of newspapers in the world. Today, it is impossible to quantify how many individual newspaper issues we hold, but close to one million would not be an unreasonable number. We are an ally of the printed news.

Why, one might ask, do we make such an effort to collect and preserve newspapers? While they are an important research tool, they are also a complex cultural resource and symbol. At first glance, newspapers may seem passé, a relic of history. With the advent of social media and non-traditional online resources, the printed word, or even a digital news site, can seem slow or out-of-touch with our increasingly voracious need for immediate information. But newspapers should not be supplanted by the digital age. Newspapers are vital to a healthy and functioning democracy.

Newspapers were one of the earliest publications in colonial America, far surpassing books and other print media in popularity. They became an integral component of social and political protest to British taxation in the 18^th century. Print resources kept disparate and physically separated colonists informed. Newspapers strengthened the growing American resistance movement, which ultimately resulted in the American Revolution and the creation of the United States. Recognizing the importance of newspapers during the revolution, the First Amendment was established to protect the right of free press and free speech. The First Amendment was intended to defend the press as a part of the democratic process.

Newspapers have long been a means of communication. Before train lines and telegraph wires interconnected the continent, newspapers kept the young country informed. As tensions rose over slavery in the decades before the Civil War, newspapers fueled the debate over the expansion of slavery into the territories. Newspapers were the battleground for the war of words, and Kansas was at the foreground of that fight. With stirring mastheads like “The Herald of Freedom” and the “Squatters Sovereign,” newspapers captured and enflamed the galvanizing language of the day:

“The people of the free States, and all opposed to slavery, claim, as their birth-right, all the benefits accruing from the act of 1820, and for them tamely to surrender this right, must be but the discover that they had necks fitted to some vile purpose. They, however, can assert and vindicate their rights without any just cause of offence, and without treading upon any of the rights of slaveholders; and whatever is their right and privilege to do, it is their duty not to leave undone.”

                                                -Kansas Herald of Freedom, 1854 

Newspapers have supported and enabled the discourse on politics and policy since our country's founding. They represent our national conscience. We are who we are as Americans because of the power of newspapers. The printed word educates and informs, and we become better citizens through our engagement with that discourse. Newspapers mobilize the public to action as trusted sources of news. Newspapers continue to be a means by which communities discuss and debate ideas and events. While the face of newspapers has changed, with many becoming digital to stay relevant and to cut publishing costs, our need for them has not. Newspapers are an essential component for our cultural, social, and political development, and are a resource worth protecting.

You can access the State Archives’ collection of newspapers online through our website or in our Research Room:

https://www.kshs.org/p/kansas-digital-newspaper-program/16126 

By: Cordell Moats, Digital Archivist

Today we can communicate instantaneously with others all around the world, but in the 1880s communication relied heavily on letters such as the ones contained in the John Bruere and Lydia Miller Letters Collection. This collection centers around the long-distance courtship of John Bruere and Lydia Miller.

John Bruere and Lydia Miller began exchanging letters before they ever met each other in person. For at least John and Lydia, the concept of a long-distance courtship with a stranger was not a common practice. John stated in his first letter that this was the first time he had wrote to someone in this way. [5] Upon receiving his first letter, Lydia Miller replied that “It was quite a surprise to me, as we are entire strangers, yet some of our warmest friends have also been strangers to us.” [6] It was their mutual acquaintance, Tom McCoy, that encouraged both to begin this line of communication. 

As a bachelor living in Sherman County, Kansas in 1887, John found that finding companionship was a difficult task; as he explains, “it is a vary dreary life to live a bachelor’s life + alone at that.” [3] The beginning of these letters focused on learning more about each other. Lydia asked a lot of questions in her first letter, and John spent most of his reply answering her queries. Lydia discussed how important her church was to her, and while John was not a member of a particular church, he believed “…most any denomination is good if we live up to them.” [12] Eventually they began to discuss other topics, including John’s travels and where he had begun homesteading. While working on the railroad John reflected “This is not near as nice a country as it is down in Kansas... where I live the soil is very good for all kinds of grain we have no stones I haven’t found a stone on my place and there is not a ditch every body that comes there says it is the pretest country they ever saw.” [18]

In later letters John and Lydia discussed more personal beliefs. In one letter Lydia stated that “Our happiness in this world does not depend upon how much we possess but upon what kind of lives we live.” [43] John considered Lydia’s thoughts and responded “I think happiness is worth far more then riches for any one with a true heart a good character is far better than those without… I always desired to live a happy and contented life, I have lived that so far, or lived that way as near as I could, although I have had a great many trials… I think we should make one another’s burdens as light as possible but the main thing is love.” [40] They also discussed Lydia’s passion for religion, and John reassured her that he felt “a Christian will love and help make a happier life than one who is not as a general rule I would not think of depriving you of your Christian life whatever.” [40]

Reading these courtship letters gives us an interesting insight into the role of love and companionship in this early period of Kansas history. The collection serves as one example to help answer questions about what individuals valued and prioritized when seeking companionship in this period of the late nineteenth century. These letters are only part of John and Lydia’s story, and they leave readers and researchers wanting to know the rest. Luckily, we received a postscript prepared by one of their descendants, a granddaughter named Verda. Here we learn that John and Lydia got married shortly after finally meeting in person. They moved to John’s Kansas Homestead near Goodland where they had four children. In 1894 they moved back to Lydia’s family home in Iowa, where they lived for the rest of their lives. Verda stated that Lydia was a sweet and loving little grandmother, and that John was an easy-going and kindly grandpa. [70]

To view the John Bruere and Lydia Miller Letters collections visit https://www.kansasmemory.org/item/44685, and https://www.kansasmemory.org/item/449709.