Jim Potter's Blog, page 11

In Search of “Grandfather” Collins: Kilkenny to New Orleans

http://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/Kilkenny-to-New-Orleans.mp3In Search of “Grandfather” Collins: Kilkenny to New Orleans

Charles C. Collins, also known as “Charlie,” (1845-1906) was of Irish ancestry, his grandfather having immigrated from Ireland to Louisiana before the War of 1812.

Polly Collins Johnson, Collins Ranch, Kit Carson, Colorado, circa 1957. Photo courtesy of Jody Buck. Jody Johnson Buck, Wray Ranch, Wray, Colorado. Photo courtesy of Jody Buck.

Jody Johnson Buck, great-great-granddaughter of Charlie, has identified the county of Kilkenny, Ireland, as the birthplace of her Collins ancestors. (Kilkenny is located seventy-five miles southwest of Dublin.)

I hope Jody can dig up more details on her great-great-great-great grandfather. Maybe her mother, Polly Collins Johnson, has an idea. Should we contact a genealogist in Kilkenny to research the Collins family using any available Irish church records?

I haven’t had much luck finding “Grandfather,” especially since ship passenger lists weren’t required for arrivals to the U. S. from foreign ports prior to 1820. We don’t know the year or even the decade that he sailed from Dublin to North America, almost certainly the port of New Orleans. Was he impoverished or well-off? Was he single or married when he made the journey? How old was this Irishman when he traveled across the Atlantic, who lived to be 107 years old?

There’s a good chance that Irish Grandfather was Catholic, as was most the Irish population, but many Irish Protestants managed farms owned by English landowners, where Catholic Irish lived as tenant farmers, sometimes in brutal starvation conditions.

Another clue that points towards Charlie Collins being Catholic is the fact that one of his two sons, Charles Edward Collins (1869-1944) sent his daughters, Georgia and Pauline, to Catholic schools. Pauline was a lifelong devout Catholic.

“Irish Emigrants Leaving Home–the Priest’s Blessing,” 1851. The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Picture Collection, the New York Public Library. Courtesy of the New York Public Library.

I’d sure like to know the reasons Grandfather felt compelled to make the long, dangerous voyage. I don’t have the answer, but I can make an educated guess. Ireland was an English colony for centuries. When England’s King Henry VIII declared himself head of the Church of England, the English Reformation began the process of transforming the Catholic country controlled by England, to a land of Protestants. Under the penal laws the Irish Catholics couldn’t vote, hold office, educate their children in Catholicism, or will their land to their eldest son. As author Carl Wittke summed up, “The causes of immigration in the eighteenth century are the familiar ones of religious persecution, economic oppression, and civil liability imposed by an alien government upon a conquered, unhappy people.”

If Grandfather left the Emerald Isle as late as 1798, he might have been fleeing for his life. In that year, armed rebellion broke out across Ireland, including in and around Dublin. After the English put down the uprising, “hundreds of Irish patriots were hunted down, tortured, and executed.”

If you ask people why the Irish immigrated to America, you’ll often get a two-word answer: potato famine. However, Grandfather Collins immigrated to Louisiana long before the collapse of Ireland’s staple crop in the mid-1840s. He must have arrived no later than the Spanish colonial period (1763-1800) because his son, Charles, born in Louisiana about 1799, fought in the War of 1812 that ended in early 1815, under General Andrew Jackson.

“Irish immigrants and their descendants formed one of the largest European ethnic groups in Louisiana, and particularly in New Orleans, which served as a major port of entry for émigrés to the United States. Only a small number of Irish residents lived in the Crescent City in the late eighteenth century; however, by 1850 one in five residents was from Ireland, and New Orleans emerged as the city with the largest Irish population in the South.”

“Under My Wings Every Thing Prospers,” is an 1803 print of by J. L. Bouqueto de Woiseri, looking upriver from the riverfront of the Marigny plantation. This cropped version courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.

New Orleans was an attractive city for Irish-Catholic immigrants because prior to the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, it had been under the control of the French and Spanish, both Catholic countries who had fought wars against the British. Along with Catholic traditions, the population held anti-British sentiments. This allowed the early wave of Irish immigrants, who were often artisans or businessmen, to “become well integrated into the economy and social life of the city.” The high cost of the journey “suggests that these early arrivals were primarily members of the middle class rather than the very poor, as is erroneously suggested.”

Prior to “Grandfather” Collins leaving Ireland, he might have been a successful farmer. One source on immigration explains that “between 1815 and 1830, the more substantial farmers constituted the bulk of the Irish immigration to America; after that date, the flood gates were open to all.” 

“The Irish Remedy–Emigration to America,” by Charles Joseph Staniland (1838-1916), 1898. The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Picture Collection, the New York Public Library. Courtesy of the New York Public Library.

“The Great Famine,” also known as “The Great Hunger,” changed the mind-set of Irish immigrants from hopeful to desperate. The combination of poverty, starvation, and disease forced an exodus from the Emerald Isle. Shiploads of sickly immigrants led to a 20-25% death rate from disease and malnutrition during the Atlantic crossings in 1847. No wonder the sailing vessels were called “coffin ships.”

The desperate, unskilled Irish who immigrated to the U. S. often avoided the South because of poor treatment and low wages. Because of Black slave labor, there were fewer available jobs. One exception to this generalization is the building of the New Basin Canal in New Orleans, completed in 1838. Due to the danger of yellow fever and other diseases, slaveowners refused to risk hiring out their enslaved African workforce (in that era in New Orleans, adult, Black, enslaved men, were valued at $500-$1,500 each). Instead, poorly paid Irish men worked and died by the thousands. “A popular saying of the 1800’s expressed the importance of Irish laborers on canal excavation projects. ‘To dig a canal, at least four things are necessary, a shovel, a pick, a wheelbarrow, and an Irishman.’”

 

War of 1812

The War of 1812, for the most part, has long been forgotten. However, historians consider it the Second War for Independence.

The U. S. declared war to protect its sovereignty and its maritime rights. The British were plundering its commerce by sea, forcing American sailors into service (impressment) for the Royal Navy, and arming American Indians so they could fight against American settlers on the Western frontier.

As mentioned earlier, we don’t know the exact reasons that “Grandfather” Collins left Ireland, but it was most likely to escape the burdensome control by the British. When Grandfather immigrated, it wasn’t to the United States, it was to the Spanish-controlled colony of Louisiana that would eventually be sold to the United States by Napoleon Bonaparte of France.

When British troops arrived in late 1814 with plans to conquer New Orleans, Louisiana had already gained its statehood two years earlier. The British expected an easy victory in New Orleans, which guarded the Mississippi River. It would give them strategic and economic control of large portions of the interior United States. I can only imagine the thoughts of the New Orleans residents, especially the French, Spanish, Irish, and Blacks when they learned of the invasion. They may well have shouted, “The British are coming! The British are coming!”

When General Andrew Jackson, nicknamed “Old Hickory” by his men, arrived in New Orleans to prepare for the imminent British invasion, he took immediate action by ordering martial law. Recognizing his infantry would be dangerously out-numbered, and being a pragmatist, he assembled a conglomeration of groups that formed a make-shift army. Participants included frontier militiamen—from Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, and Louisiana (representing the highest percentage of fighters from the rag-tag army)—free Blacks, New Orleans businessmen, Creoles, Choctaw tribesmen, and even pirates who had an abundant supply of gunpowder and were excellent artillerymen.

Charles Collins, son of “Grandfather” Collins, was about fifteen years old when he fought under General Jackson to prevent the British from advancing on New Orleans. At his age, it’s extremely doubtful that he would have been in the regular Army, which means it’s more likely he was in the militia.

“In 1812 all adult males between 16 and 60 years of age were subject to military conscription into state militias.” Again, due to his age, Collins was much more likely to have been a member of the volunteer militia. Men in the volunteer militias enlisted for short terms of service and were usually not well equipped or trained.

Like other militiamen, Collins would have been expected to provide his own weapon, field gear, and uniform.

Ideally, Collins would have arrived at New Orleans—possibly from his birthplace and home near Baton Rouge—prepared to survive the natural elements—especially the frigid winter weather—and the enemy. A musket, shoulder bag (holding extra flints, bullet mold, cup, spoon, and two blankets), shot pouch, powder horn, canteen, sheath knife, and a hatchet for close quarter fighting, would have been standard gear.

Due to the expense, the specifications for militia uniforms were flexible. I wonder if Charles’ mother made his shirt, trousers, and hunting shirt, consisting of a cotton or coarse linen. And, it’s intriguing to consider what parting advice his father might have given him during the father-son goodbye.

I speculate about how actively Collins participated on January 8, 1815, at the fighting on Chalmette Plantation, five miles southwest of New Orleans. Was he standing on the crowded parapet, waiting, holding his fire until the British became visible through the morning mist? The substantial defensive positions built by General Jackson’s troops—and Black slaves—on the bank of the Rodriquez Canal (referred to as “Line Jackson” by the general’s troops), made all the difference in surviving multiple British attacks, including ongoing artillery fire.

If Collins was a part of the engagement that day, after the last ball was fired, he would have observed a crowded field of fallen British redcoats between the east side of the Mississippi River and the cypress swamps to the west. It resembled a sea of blood.

“The Battle of New Orleans,” by E. Percy Moran (1862-1935), shows General Andrew Jackson standing with his sword raised. Photomechanical print: halftone, color, 1910. Library of Congress control number 92510337. Courtesy of Library of Congress.

There’s little wonder that the Collins family would have taken pride in young Charles Collins participating in the defeat of the British at Chalmette Plantation. General Jackson’s troops were outnumbered by a ratio of 2:1, and they were fighting many experienced, professional soldiers. Yet, this decisive battle was an incredibly one-sided victory; some historians have described it a slaughter. Britain suffered over 2,000 casualties; Jackson lost about 70 men.

“The final battles against the British around New Orleans united the soldiers of Jackson’s patchwork force . . . Hatred of the Crown, aggravated by British support for the hostile tribes along the frontier, finally provided a strong unifying force for an army now accustomed to victory. At New Orleans the militiamen and others actually wanted to engage the British army, aggressively sought the battle, and on the climatic day actually cheered the British attack.

As a result of this victory, the charismatic Jackson became a hero and was later elected to the presidency. Eventually, Charles Collins moved from his family’s plantation near Baton Rouge to Montgomery County, Alabama, and later to the Kansas Territory. In 1861, his patriotic son, too young to enlist without his parents’ permission, would run off to fight in the American Civil War.

This YouTube post uses the musical recording “The Battle of New Orleans” released by Johnny Horton in 1959. It was written by Jimmy Driftwood (real name, James Corbitt Morris). As a school teacher, he originally started writing songs as a way of helping his students learn about history.

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

 

 

Footnotes

The United States Biographical Dictionary, “Charles Collins.” (New York & Chicago: American Biographical Publishing Company, 1879), p. 664.

Jody Johnson Buck, email, January 2, 2022.

National Archives, Passenger Arrival Records, www.archives.gov/research/immigration..., accessed 2020.

The United States Biographical Dictionary, p. 664.

Ibid.           

Samuel Finesurrey, Ph.D., “A People’s History of New York City, Immigrant New York City, Episode 3, Becoming Irish-American (1790-1880),” posted to YouTube March 29, 2020.

Jody Johnson Buck, email, January 2, 2022.

Timothy J. White, “The Impact of British Colonization on Irish Catholicism and National Identity: Repression, Reemergence and National Identity,” Étides irlandaises, 35-1, 2010, pp. 21-37.

Laura Leddy Turner, “The Life of Poor Irish in the 1700s,” https://www.theclassroom.com/life-poo..., updated June 27, 2018; Finesurrey.

Carl Wittke, We Who Built America: The Saga of the Immigrant (Case Western Reserve University, Revised Edition, 1967), p. 44.

Robert McNamara, “Irish Rebellions of the 1800s: The 19th Century in Ireland was Marked by Periodic Revolt Against British Rule,” www.thoughtco.com/irish-rebellions-of-the-1800s, updated July 3, 2019.

The United States Biographical Dictionary, p. 664.

Laura D. Kelley, “Irish in New Orleans,” www.64parishes.org/entry/irish-in-new..., accessed 2022.

Esther Fleming, “What Immigrants Came to New Orleans?” www.sidmartinbio.org/what-immigrants-came-to-new-orleans/, September11, 2019.

New Orleans.com, “Irish Culture in New Orleans: New Orleans Has Always Had Irish Influence,” www.neworleans.com/things-to-do/multi..., accessed 2022.

Laura D. Kelley.

Wittke, p. 130.

Irish American Journey, www.irishamericajourney.com/2011/10/i..., accessed 2022.

Wittke, p. 137.

Laura D. Kelley; Edward Branley, “NOLA History: The Irish in New Orleans,” GONOLA online post, March 4, 2013, https://gonola.com. 

  History.com Editors, “War of 1812,” www.history.com/topics/war-of-1812/, Smithsonian American Art Museum, “Causes of the War of 1812,” https://americanexperience.si.edu/wp-..., accessed 2022.

John C. McManus, “Spirit of New Orleans,” History Net, www.historynet.com/spirit-of-new-orle..., accessed 2022.

Jennie Cohen, “History Stories: 10 Things You May Not Know About Paul Revere,” Inside History newsletter, original post April 16, 2013, updated September 30, 2021, www.history.com/news/11-things-you-may-not-know-about-paul-revere. Incorrectly, many American history books have claimed that Patriot Paul Revere shouted this warning in 1775 upon his arrival on horseback in Concord, Massachusetts. Since most of the colonial residents in Massachusetts still considered themselves British, Paul Revere more likely warned patriots that the regular army was coming out of Boston by saying, “The Regulars are coming out!”

Louisiana State Museum online exhibits, “The Cabildo: Two Centuries of Louisiana History, The Battle of New Orleans,” accessed 2022.

Samuel Eliot Morison, The Oxford History of the American People, (New York, Oxford Press, 1965), p. 394.

Louisiana State Museum online exhibits; The term Creole is highly debated. One view defines Creoles as people of French, Spanish, and/or African descent, but born in the Western Hemisphere.

The United States Biographical Dictionary, p. 664.

Ed Gilbert, Illustrated by Adam Hook, Frontier Militiaman in the War of 1812: Southwestern Frontier, (Great Britain, Osprey Publishing, 2008), p. 11.

Ibid.

Ibid, p. 26.

Ibid, p. 29.

Ibid, pp. 26-27.

Norfolk Town Assembly, www.norfolktownassembly.org/post/the-... American Battlefield Trust, www.battlefields.org/learn/war-1812/battles/new-orleans, accessed 2022.

American Battlefield Trust.

McManus.

Louisiana State Museum Online Exhibits.

Gilbert, p. 34

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You Don’t Need to Know Everything Before You Start Writing

http://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/You-Dont-Need-to-Know-Everything-Before-You-Start-Writing.mp3You Don’t Need to Know Everything Before You Start Writing

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Eastside Cemetery, Hutchinson, KS. Author’s photo.

Charles Collins gravestone pdf

I’ve been researching and researching, and I still have unanswered questions. I’d like to learn more about Charles C. Collins and his ancestors before I write his story, but I can’t wait forever. I’ve been down so many research rabbit holes that I’ve become comfortable living underground. I don’t think it’s covid related. Now, I must surface and write.

The U. S. Census, findagrave.com, newspapers.com, ancestry.com, articles and books on history, and contacts with descendants of Collins, have been extremely helpful, but I’ve reached a point where my extensive knowledge of the available material is more than enough for me to begin writing a cohesive story.

Sandee Taylor, a member of the Kansas Authors Club, has similar issues. She’s diagnosed too much researching as “research paralysis.” Sandee states, “We love doing it as much as we love writing. It’s a good thing, but it slows the writing process.”

“I, Jim Potter, promise to make writing a priority. I will stop looking for the Trans-Atlantic ship that took Grandfather Collins to Louisiana from Dublin. I will accept, for now, that I may never know the details about Charlie’s father fighting for General Andrew Jackson in the War of 1812. Mary’s maiden name—Charlie’s mother—may remain a mystery to me. If I never locate the Collins plantations in Louisiana, I will survive. If I can’t confirm that Charlie lived in Leavenworth and Lawrence, Kansas, that’s okay for now. I’d like to know the final resting place of Charlie’s parents and grandparents, but that may never happen. Bottom line, I don’t need to know everything to write the story about the first sheriff of Reno County, Kansas.”

When I write fiction, I don’t obsess about knowing every detail before I start. Instead, I learn incrementally as the story evolves, and I enjoy the surprises. Fiction or nonfiction, I research so that my stories are credible, and I allow space for inspiration and creativity.

One type of writer, the “plotter,” plans the work before starting; the “pantser” writes by the seat of his or her pants, planning very little. For non-fiction writing, especially, I’m a Potter plotter.

Eastside Cemetery, Hutchinson, KS. Author’s photo.

Loretta Collins gravestone pdf

Here are some facts, as I know them, about Charles C. Collins. His father and grandfather were plantation owners near Baton Rouge, Louisiana. They raised cotton and sugar and owned slaves. Charlie was born in Montgomery County, Alabama in 1844 (or 1845), the second of thirteen children. Despite his southern family influence, Charlie enlisted in the Union Army in 1861 when he was about 17 years old.

I want to understand Charlie’s decision to fight for the Union when he lived in Kansas. Were his parents’ pro-slavery or pro-union? What caused Charlie, who probably lived in Alabama until he was a teenager, to become patriotic and to fight in Mr. Lincoln’s War? 

Most people think our history never changes. On the contrary. The history we know changes as we uncover more information. That’s why I get so caught up in digging for additional details.

Here’s my writing plan. I don’t need to know everything. I’ll tell the reader what I know, what I don’t know, and I’ll be specific about what I still want to know. While I’m writing, I can still dream about uncovering hidden treasure from historians, genealogists, and long-lost relatives of Charles Collins.

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Until next time, happy writing and reading.

 

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Never Waste Dreams Book Review

Never Waste Dreams Book Review

by Jim Potter

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Author Gloria Zachgo reminds me of a professional juggler who flawlessly keeps a half-dozen balls rotating in a perfect arc. The performance appears effortless.

Zachgo’s sequel novel, Never Waste Dreams, is exceptionally well-written. The literary Kansas characters I encountered could have been my ancestors, fighting drought and loneliness while raising a family on the treeless prairie.

Gloria Zachgo is an expert on planning and plotting. Her novel progresses at a welcome pace with memorable characters down a literary trail.

It must be rewarding for Zachgo to challenge herself and accomplish her goals. In imagining her novel, she decided to set her story in the pioneer days of Kansas in 1871 and have her characters speak a distinctive dialect. When she dared to introduce Mathew, a young boy who stuttered, I shook my head and smiled.

Never Waste Dreams works as a stand-alone novel and as a sequel to Never Waste Tears. It flows smoothly like a real story told by actual people. Whether Zachgo’s a professional juggler or talented writer, her persistence and demanding work has paid off with an outstanding performance.

Jim Potter—author of Taking Back the Bullet: Trajectories of Self-Discovery

If you’re interested in learning more about Gloria’s writing or her other three published books, check out her website: http://www.gloriazachgo.com

If you’re interested in learning more about the Kansas Authors Club, here’s a link to the statewide organization: http://www.kansasauthors.org

District 6 of the Kansas Authors Club meets virtually on Zoom every month on the fourth Saturday (except December). The meetings are free and open to the public. Contact me for details.

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Until next time, happy writing and reading.

 

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Sheriffs of Reno County: Mr. and Mrs. Sheriff

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/Sheriffs-of-Reno-County-Mr.-and-Mrs.-Sheriff.mp3Mr. and Mrs. Sheriff

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The Reno County courthouse opened in 1873 on the SE corner of Ave. B & Main St. The county jail was in the basement with iron cells. The 1880 US Census recorded Sheriff Allen Jordan and his family living there. It listed his wife, Florence Evaline Jordan, and their three children, ages 4, 6, 8. Also present: Deputy Duckworth; a prisoner named Robert McClain; and a boarder, C. J. McClaine. She was the wife of the prisoner. Photo credit to Reno County Historical Society.

One day a newly elected sheriff, a bachelor, asked the retiring sheriff if he could give him any advice on running the jail. The veteran sheriff replied, “Yes, get married as soon as possible.”

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In its first 150 years, Reno County has elected thirty-two of its thirty-three different sheriffs. This book will introduce each one of the lawmen chronologically, in separate chapters, beginning with Charles C. Collins.

Running the sheriff’s office has always required a team effort. Even Collins, a United States deputy marshal, needed assistance. As sheriff, he worked with an under sheriff and at least one other deputy.

Unfortunately, the support and efforts of Collins’ wife, Loretta McMillan Collins, can only be imagined. (Lawrence Tribune, Feb. 8, 1886, p3)

I’m still learning how the roles of Mr. and Mrs. Sheriff changed over a century-and-a-half. In the broadest strokes, in the early days, Mrs. Sheriff was running both a personal household and a jail. In contemporary times, the spouse of a sheriff has never worked as a jail cook or matron, and never accompanied her husband on a prisoner trip. Instead, she’s been busy working a full-time job outside of law enforcement. 

Unlike other county officeholders, the sheriff has always required dependable help 24 hours a day due to the responsibilities of running the jail. For many decades, Mr. and Mrs. Sheriff lived in the jail’s living quarters with their children—young ones and adults. Early on, the jail had a more welcoming name. It was the “jailhouse” because prisoners and the sheriff’s family (or jailer’s family) lived under the same roof and shared meals together. (The Secret Life of the Lawman’s Wife, B.J. Alderman, Praeger Publishers, 2007, xiv.)

The wife of a sheriff was his partner, not subservient to him. In the early days it took the married couple, and other family members, to run the jail properly. Mrs. Sheriff usually had the duties of cooking and supervising prisoners, especially females. Trusted inmates often assisted with the jailhouse duties. They peeled potatoes, washed dishes, mopped floors, and cleaned clothes.

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There was about a 30-year period when Mrs. Sheriff (working as the jail matron) and Mr. Sheriff would take prisoner trips together, especially when a female inmate was taken to prison. Otherwise, it was common for the sheriff (or a deputy) to make the trip without a second employee unless there were multiple prisoners or one that required extra security.

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Reno County jail, 15 Ave. B, Hutchinson, KS, opened May 1888, ca. 1889. Sheriff Dan Miller; his wife, Ceceilia Edmunds Miller; and their younger children, lived in the sheriff’s residence attached to the jail. In 1888, their son Edward married Odelia Bach in “the pleasant parlors of the jail building.” (Hutchinson News, Aug. 5, 1888, p5) Photographer W. B. Glines. Credit to Reno County Historical Society.

In past Reno County elections, only men have run as candidates for the office of sheriff, but for the longest time, informed voters considered the sheriff and his wife a package deal. In the early days, if the sheriff’s wife served delicious meals to her incarcerated guests, her reputation helped in her husband’s reelection bid. Good food garnished votes from former prisoners who considered the possibility that down the road they might again run afoul of the law. If they had to spend more time in the bastille or jail, tasty food might help them survive their unfortunate circumstances.

Despite the heavy workload, once a sheriff and his family settled into the sheriff’s residence, they did their best to present themselves to the voting public as a capable bunch.

Early day sheriffs didn’t receive a salary. Instead, they earned money from multiple sources. Some of these streams of income were: collecting fees for serving civil papers, being awarded a percentage of the county taxes they collected, being paid a set amount for each day a prisoner was housed and fed meals, collecting rewards after catching wanted criminals and returning stolen property. Once elected, some sheriffs rented out their homes since they expected to have a county roof over their head for at least two, possibly four years. The financial incentives of the office could pay off, especially when at least a portion of the sheriff’s room and board was at the county’s expense. (Alderman, The Secret Life of the Lawman’s Wife,  p12, p40)

The last Mr. and Mrs. Sheriff to live adjacent to the fifth-floor courthouse jail—in a one-room apartment—was Calvin Sheppard and Carol Weber Sheppard. Their front door was a heavily barred gate, always locked. The year was 1960. (Hutchinson News, Feb. 22, 1959, p10; Personal interview)

After 1960, a jailer and his wife might live in the jail, but elected sheriffs and their families remained home, sparred the day and night racket from prisoners. Eventually, shift employees replaced the round-the-clock live-in jailer.

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Reno County Sheriff Fay Forrest Brown & Cora Phares Brown. She was the jail’s cook and matron. The two often transported convicted county prisoners to the state prison. Author’s collection.

During most of my research, especially in newspapers, a married woman was formally addressed by the first and last names of her respective husband. Instead of Cora Brown or Cora Phares Brown, the published article would identify her as Mrs. Fay Brown. (Example: Hutchinson News, Oct. 10, 1927, p2)

For generations, this etiquette has created research challenges.  

I can imagine the confusion back in 1932 and ’33 when Sheriff Cunningham’s wife and ex-wife were each referred to as “Mrs. Edward Cunningham,” without the use of their first name. (Example: Hutchinson News, May 27, 1932, p10)

When I study past eras, I can be unfairly judgmental when I don’t understand the circumstances or see the big picture. Judging yesterday’s activities and events from today’s perspective isn’t productive.

For example, to me the formality of referring to a woman by her husband’s first and last name marginalizes the female, but it was a social custom considered respectful. Today in marriage it’s still widely acceptable among women to use their husband’s surname.

Future historians, no doubt, will look at the 21st century and shake their heads at our odd behavior. I’ve seen photos from 1900 where it was a standard practice for people to wear suits, hats, and long dresses to picnics and for camping. If I were to time-travel to 1900 and appear at a social activity wearing blue jeans, a tee-shirt, and no hat, I might be deemed a vagrant or an escapee from an insane asylum. Take a moment and consider what people from 1900 would think of us today. How would they react if they attended a church service and observed people worshipping while wearing sandals, cut-offs, and tee-tops?

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I always have more questions than answers. I once spent three days searching for a woman’s first name. Newspapers, city directories, the U.S. Census, find.a.grave.com, and ancestry.com are amazing tools, but they all have their limitations when it comes to flushing out what a person was really like.

When I peruse “society news” in old newspapers, searching for clues about the wife of a sheriff, the information helps add a small piece to my picture, but too often I feel like I’m still missing important details of a secret life. I can read her name, but I cannot read her thoughts.

Fortunately, in my research, I’ve interviewed some former sheriffs, their wives, and children. Everyone has given me the impression that the years they were in office or working in the jail was a highlight in their life.

In 1986, Juanita Mae Chambers Ankerholz, 74, recalled the excitement of election season when she helped make political signs to support her husband’s campaigns for sheriff. Juanita even recalled how Guy won a landslide victory in 1940 when he captured all 56 precincts in the primary and again in the general election. (Personal interview)

Reno County courthouse, at First Ave & Adams St., Hutchinson, KS, opened in 1931. The entire 5th floor housed the county jail. All five floors are still in use, mostly by the county attorney’s office, county commission, sheriff’s office, and the courts, but the jail was relocated in 1971, and again in 2015. Postcard by E. C. Kropp Co. Author’s collection.

At age 65, in 1986, Grace Margaret Wells Severson Wendler remembered when she and her husband, Al, were transporting a convicted murderer to Lansing in the sheriff’s car. When their automobile developed a low tire in the middle of nowhere, she got out of the vehicle to check it and dropped her purse, scattering its contents. Al was so worried about potential trouble, he had Grace return to the car before she had collected everything. (Personal correspondence)

I wish I had more stories to share about these dedicated, pioneer women. Instead, too often, my knowledge of them is severely incomplete, forcing me to lean on personal statistics of their birth, marriage, children, and death.

Even though I have fewer details on the spouses of the sheriffs than on the office holders, I’m well-aware that they were vital to the success of the elected lawmen. After all, the work was a group effort.

In my experience, after serving on the Reno County Sheriff’s Office for 33 years, I know that a strong woman helps make her husband a better deputy sheriff. 

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Until next time, happy writing and reading.

 

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Sheriffs of Reno County: 1872-2022

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/Sheriffs-of-Reno-County-Preface.mp3Preface

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Jim Potter, 4-year-old, 1954, in Chicago, not the Wild-West. Harold L. Potter, 1-year-old, 1921, Morton County, KS.

Books don’t just happen. While growing up, I heard stories that triggered my imagination. Stories are seeds to an author. When planted and nourished, they can become a bountiful harvest. In my case, there are several reasons why I wanted to research and write about the sheriffs of Reno County, Kansas.

When I was growing up, I regularly watched weekly westerns on television. My favorites were The Lone Ranger, The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp, and Gunsmoke. The first show was about a Texas Ranger and his faithful companion, Tonto, who fought for truth and justice. Wyatt Earp was a gunslinging town marshal fighting for law and order in Ellsworth, and later, Wichita, Kansas. Gunsmoke focused on the fictional Marshal Matt Dillon keeping the peace in Dodge City.

First Lt. Harold Potter, Fifth Inf. Div., Third Army, medical department, supervisor of evacuation of combat casualties, December 1944, Lauterbach, Germany.

On the home front, I had my father, Harold L. Potter, a World War II veteran, as a real-life example of someone risking his life to make the world a safer, saner place. Since Dad was born and raised in Kansas, he was another connection to my very limited understanding of “the Western frontier.”

Our summertime family visits to Kansas, especially South Hutchinson and Hutchinson, gave me an opportunity to experience a rural community and compare it to my life growing up in suburbia. I was a wannabee wild-west deputy sheriff with no cowboy skills. I was more likely to be riding a horse on a carousel or attending a rodeo as a tourist than learning good horsemanship. And my closest experience with a six-shooter was firing a .22 rifle at Boy Scout Camp. Clearly, I was no cowboy or marksman, no Wyatt Earp or Marshal Dillon.

James Chamellis & Eva Dix Potter homestead near Jet, OK, with children in 1900. J. C. Potter was the Democratic nominee for Reno County commissioner in 1916 but was defeated in a three-way race.

However, a closer look at my ancestors gave me a historical connection to the law enforcement community. My great-grandfather, James C. Potter, had been a deputy sheriff in Oklahoma after participating in the Cherokee Land Strip Run in 1893, and later became a blacksmith, city marshal, and mayor in Nickerson, Kansas.

Group photo of Reno County Sheriff’s Office employees standing in front of the sheriff’s residence in 1927. Sheriff Fay F. Brown, in white suit, stands next to his wife, Cora May Phares Brown, who was the jail matron and cook.

My “Uncle Fay,” born Fay Forrest Brown, is one of my favorite Reno County lawmen, though he responded to calls for service in a motor car, not on horseback. Cora May Phares Brown, Fay’s wife, served as the county jail’s matron, cook, and accompanied Fay on many prisoner trips from 1927-1931, the two terms he served as sheriff.  The couple lived at the sheriff’s residence attached to the crumbling bastille that had a reputation as an easy escape.

Reno County Sheriff Fay Brown’s personalized badge. He served two terms, 1927-1931.

Fifty years after Fay hung up his badge, I was hired by the Reno County Sheriff’s Office. I began as a deputy sheriff, enforcing the law while working patrol. Once I was a member of the boys in blue, a family of sorts, I became curious as to our family tree. I wanted to know, “Who were my gunslinging ancestors?”

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. I was hired by Sheriff Jim Fountain. He and other old-timers answered my questions about former Reno County sheriffs, including Charles Heidebrecht, Roy Sheppard, and his son, Calvin Sheppard, but that was it. The institutional memory was no greater than the personal memory of employees.

There was no wall of honor in the Law Enforcement Center with photos of former sheriffs or deputies killed in action. There wasn’t even a file folder, let alone a book on the history of the sheriff’s office.

To me, an amateur historian who earned a M.A. degree in the field, the omission was an injustice, a dereliction of duty, a felony crime.

Unfortunately, the public library and the county museum had no easy answers to my inquiries. They recommended I read historical newspapers on microfilm and examine old city directories.

Reno County Sheriff’s Office employees read the Good News Blues from 1984-1988.

Within a few years of being deputized, I was producing a departmental newsletter titled the Good News Blues. It included articles I wrote after interviewing current and retired employees. My favorite column in each edition was a brief article focusing on former sheriffs, beginning with Charles C. Collins who was elected in 1872.

Researching old-time sheriffs on microfilm at the library was fun back in the 1980s but extremely time consuming. Today I can search online from my home computer during a pandemic using a search engine that didn’t exist when I started this project.

Sheriffs of Reno County has been on my bucket list for 40 years. As with many personal goals, it’s been easy for me to get side-tracked. Instead of this book, I wrote two others because I couldn’t find them in the library. Cop in the Classroom: Lessons I’ve Learned, Tales I’ve Told (2007) is a police memoir; Taking Back the Bullet: Trajectories of Self-Discovery (2017) is a novel.

Reno County Deputy Sheriff Jim Potter, 1983. Photo by John Moon.

In conclusion, I wrote Sheriffs of Reno County because, as a child, I was enamored with the western lawmen genre of TV shows; because of a curiosity about my ancestors who wore the badge; and because I wanted to resurrect the names and lives of all Reno County sheriffs.

The older I get the more aware I become that I’m a story saver. Like a parent, I’m passing these stories on to future generations.

Someday, when a newly hired deputy wants to know the history or DNA of the Reno County Sheriff’s Office, this book will be a place to start.

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

 

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Reno County: She Killed Her Husband

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/Reno-County-She-Killed-Her-Husband.mp3She Killed Her Husband

*

Mr. & Mrs. Sheriff, Victor and Vera Frazey, lived in an apartment at the Reno County Jail on the fifth floor of the courthouse during his two terms as sheriff, 1951-1955. Hutchinson News, August 14, 1952.

It’s late Thursday afternoon, October 11, 1951, at the Reno County Jail on the fifth floor of the courthouse. Vera Gambee Frazey, 45, jail matron and cook, hears the metallic sound of heavy jail keys, followed by the forceful clang of a door being shut, and the keys locking the gate. She’s making supper for her and her husband, having earlier helped prepare the two daily prisoner meals served at 8 a.m. and 2 p.m.

Sheriff Vic Frazey, 51, walks into the kitchen with his nose alert, attempting to determine what’s available to eat.

*

“Is there a verdict?” asked Vera, looking at Vic, referring to the second-degree murder trial of Mrs. Mary Etta Warfield, Negro, 43. Mary admitted to killing her husband, Daniel Warfield, Negro, 50, with a shotgun blast in their apartment at 505½ South Main, Hutchinson, on March 9.

The jury trial was supposed to clarify the circumstances.  

Hutchinson News, October 12, 1951.

“No, there’s a hung jury,” replied Vic, “and I don’t mean Mrs. Warfield’s going to hang. After seven hours of deliberation, the jury couldn’t agree on her guilt. The jury stood at eight for conviction, four for acquittal.”

“From what I heard at the trial, I’m glad she wasn’t convicted,” said Vera, “but now she’s still in legal limbo. What will happen next?”

“Mrs. Warfield will remain free on the $5,000 bond until the next term of district court. Then we’ll find out if the county attorney will retry the case.”

“Do you think he’ll dismiss the charges?” asked Vera.

“It’s a difficult case to prosecute. When Mrs. Warfield ran into the downstairs pool hall after shooting her husband, her hysterical comments set a course for a case of self-defense. The dead can’t testify, but the county attorney’s office does its best to represent the victim.”

“That’s the central question here,” said Vera. “Who is the victim? Daniel Warfield is dead, but did Mary kill him before he killed her?”

“Either way, it’s a tragedy,” said Vic. “If he had killed his wife, he’d be the one on trial.”

“I’m still surprised that the men in the All-Nations pool hall didn’t hear a shotgun blast,” said Vera. “Some of them testified to her screaming, ‘Call the ambulance! I shot Dan!’ Others remembered her saying, ‘He made me do it!’”

Vic recalled some trial testimony by Sergeant Amos Cauley, a Negro. “Cauley told the jury that Mrs. Warfield said she had ‘accidentally’ shot her husband in the heat of an argument. She said that after he threw her on the bed and threatened to kill her, she grabbed the nearby shotgun, and it went off.”

“I can see how it’s difficult to prove whether a gun goes off accidentally or on purpose,” said Vera. “Her case was strengthened by the witnesses who recalled how upset Daniel would get when his wife didn’t obey him. She wasn’t to leave the apartment without his permission.”

“I can believe that when Dan found out Mary had been out at a night-spot, he threatened her,” said Vic. “But did he mean it, or was it only a warning?”

“Vic, if you threatened to kill me by the end of the day, I’d know you weren’t serious. That’s not you. You haven’t been convicted of crimes like Dan Warfield who started getting into trouble before he was an adult. Mary knew her husband. They’d been married for three years. He’d hurt her before. Now, should Mary be blamed for reaching for the shotgun after her husband threw her on the bed and said, ‘I’m going to finish you’?”

“Vic thought a few seconds before identifying a reason the jury found it impossible to agree on a verdict. “That’s the trouble with this case, there’s a lot of ‘She said, he said.’

“John Fontron did a fine job of defending Mrs. Warfield. Since she’s a small woman, I think it helped her self-defense argument. Plus, he was able to present witnesses who acknowledged her husband’s jealous behavior.”

“Innocent or guilty, I was surprised Mrs. Warfield didn’t show any emotion,” said Vera. “She looked nice in her green and white striped dress, grey coat, and brown and white saddle oxfords.”

“Assistant County Attorney John Alden couldn’t alter the facts,” said Vic. “He told the jury that Mrs. Warfield murdered her husband because he had mistreated her, but he also reminded the twelve men that it wasn’t an adequate excuse for her violent response. Alden had the jurors picture Daniel Warfield wearing a green lumberjack shirt over a shirt khaki, both saturated with blood after his wife shot him intentionally and maliciously in the chest.”

“From what I heard at the trial,” said Vera, “if I’d been on the jury, I would have voted to acquit. Only Mary, Daniel, and God know what happened prior to the shooting. There’s not enough evidence for the rest of us.”

“God wasn’t on the jury,” said Vic, “but Mrs. Warfield will have to live with her actions. Now she’s a widow with limited income.”

“At least she’s alive. She can get a job,” said Vera. “I wonder if the gender or race of the jury affected their vote. Mary wasn’t judged by a jury of her peers. All twelve jurors were white men.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

 

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Reno County: Girls in Jail

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/Reno-County-Girls-in-Jail.mp3Girls in Jail

*

Fox theater advertisement. Hutchinson News Herald, July 31, 1949.

It’s Monday afternoon, August 1, 1949, at The Fox theater in Hutchinson, Kansas. Mrs. Sheriff, Ruth Graves Dixon, 54; and her sister, Charline Graves Allison, 60; are talking prior to the start of the picture show, The Barkleys of Broadway, staring Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.

*

“How’s the jail treating you?” asked Charline, as she crunched her buttery popcorn.

“After two-and-a-half years, I still surprise myself,” answered Ruth, sipping her Coca-Cola.

“How so?” inquired Ruth.

“The trips with Walt, picking up prisoners around the country, are always a traveling adventure, but I never pictured myself in charge of inmates or supervising the jail’s kitchen, especially for four years.”

“You’ve handled it well,” said Charline. “I might have been in your shoes when George was elected sheriff if the county commissioners hadn’t denied him the courthouse apartment where Ed Cunningham lived.”

“The girls grow on me,” said Ruth. “When you get up close and personal, you see the person, not the crime. I get to watch them work. If I didn’t have a helper peeling the vegetables, washing the dishes, and doing all the cleanup work, I wouldn’t have time to sew and go to picture shows.”

“It does them good to work,” said Charline. “George said that when the prisoners are idle, they’re more trouble.”

“That’s true, and when they’re proud of an accomplishment it helps them feel better about who they are.”

“If you had a piano in the jail, I’ll bet you’d be giving music lessons!” Charline joked.

Reno County court house, Hutchinson, KS, at 1st Ave. & Adams Street. The entire 5th floor housed the county jail. Postcard by E. C. Kropp Co. Author’s collection.

“We have a cute little colored girl who is a good worker and does the ironing. She was brought to jail after she stole $200 from a home where she worked. After taking the money, she hurried down to the bus depot and purchased a ticket for Oklahoma City. She told me that she just knew the police would be there when she got off the bus. And sure enough—they were there to grab her and put her in jail.”

“Are you too close to these young women?” asked Charline. “You talk about them all the time.”

“You sound like Walt. Don’t be silly. It’s not like I’m handing them keys to escape. Instead, I’m trying to give them keys to success. There’s nothing wrong with being friendly.”

“Remember, they wouldn’t be locked up if they weren’t criminals,” said Charline.

“I taught another colored girl to crochet. Seven months after she was released, she came back for a visit to show me a box of articles she had crocheted for her hope chest. She was getting married soon. She was so proud of them.”

“If your children lived in town, you’d enjoy them,” said Charline.

“I think of them all the time, but their visits are rare since they live so far away. I do enjoy the company of the girls in jail. The other day, a 19-year-old asked me for some crochet thread, saying she wanted to make something for me. A few days later, she presented me with a beautiful doily.

“There are so many stories,” continued Ruth. “A young, 14-year-old girl had run away from home because she couldn’t get along with her stepfather. After we told the girl her mother was notified to come pick her up, she asked if she could stay with me as she much preferred living in jail than at home.”

“Sometimes step-fathers are pretty strict,” said Charline.

“And sometimes they touch their step-daughters inappropriately,” said Ruth.

“Did she tell you that?” asked Charline.

“No, but for whatever reason, some of these girls feel helpless. It could be from mistreatment. They believe that any choice they make—good or bad—won’t make a difference in their future. One reason they attach themselves to me is because they’re hungry for protection and care. They fear being abandoned, dominated, or betrayed.”

“They trust you, Ruth.”

“Yes, and Walt has warned me to be careful and not trust them. But, let’s stop talking about the jail. I’m ready to get lost in this musical-comedy.”

Photo promoting the movie, Barkleys of Broadway, with Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers. Hutchinson News Herald, July 31, 1949.

“It will be good to see Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire dancing again as partners,” said Charline. “This is their tenth movie together, and their first one filmed in technicolor.”

“Is it true that Ginger Rogers is getting her third divorce?” asked Ruth.

“I haven’t heard that, but in this film her character has marital problems because her husband’s always critiquing her, telling her how to improve her performance on stage.”

“Most men I know have more patience for fishing and hunting than they do with people,” said Ruth, “I know that early in this movie Dinah Barkley separates from her husband because she resents his superior attitude.”

“Ruthie, don’t ruin the movie for me!”

“Charline, one last thing about the girls. Our parents were always supportive of us and gave us opportunities to excel. I’m trying to convince the girls that better choices make a better life.”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

 

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Matty Mathias

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/Reno-County-Matty-Mathias.mp3“Matty” Mathias, pitcher, Hutchinson Larks, 1934. Author’s collection.“Matty” Mathias

*

It’s noon, Thursday, July 5, 1945, in Hutchinson, Kansas. Harry Smith, 58, owner of Smith’s Flower Shop, 2606 North Monroe, is wearing a freshly cut red rose in his suitcoat buttonhole.

*

Lulu Morse Stapleton, 51, enters the display room and gravitates to the bell-shaped lilies. She bends over and inhales the sweet aroma.

Harry approaches with a greeting. “Welcome, Mrs. Sheriff. While our country celebrated its freedom yesterday, I hope you had an enjoyable birthday.”

“Thank you, Harry. Your flowers were beautiful. Steve and I didn’t hear any firecrackers this year. That may be one of the few good results of war rationing. I’m sure the materials for fireworks have been redirected to the war effort. With Germany surrendered, now, Japan is getting our full military attention.”

“We’re all tired of the rationing,” said Harry. “When we defeat Japan, we’ll be able to buy new tires again, and have gasoline to travel.”

I remember how confused I was at first with the ration points,” said Lulu, with a laugh. “I wanted to buy a can of Pork and Beans, but it wasn’t clear if the points would be figured as meat at six points or a vegetable at four points. When rationing ends, I’m going to be sure that our boys, Stevie and Bill, never miss another birthday without sweet, home-made cake and cookies.”

“Amen,” responded Harry, “I think I’ve about lost my sweet tooth. It’s been replaced with a fondness for macaroni and cheese.”

Lulu wasn’t sure if Harry was joking. Eating macaroni and cheese regularly got old, but it was available, filling, and cheap—in price and points.

World War II rationing poster. U. S. National Archives and Records Administration.

“As sheriff, Steve will be pleased to have more resources to catch criminals,” said Lulu. “I remember early-on when the OPA (Office of Price Administration) mistakenly assigned “C” ration books, instead of “B” ration books to the sheriff’s office. The criminals enjoyed that. They had a better opportunity of escaping from a crime without a strong law enforcement response searching the area.

“One day, we’ll be buying new cars again and men will be visiting the sheriff’s office, looking for employment.”

“When Matty recovers from his war injuries, he might decide to return to deputy work,” said Harry. “Right now, Ruth is in the other room talking to him on the telephone. He’s back in the USA, calling from New York City.”

“Oh, my! That’s great news,” said Lulu, raising her voice. “She’s waited so long.”

“Ruth often reminds me that it’s been nearly three years since Matty was drafted into the Army,” said Harry. “He’s served as a staff sergeant and tank commander with the 47th Tank Battalion, 14th Armored Division. Wounded about three months ago along the Rhine River, he’s been hospitalized at Verdun.”

“I remember Matty pitching for the Larks” said Lulu.

“Thanks to the Hutchinson Larks professional baseball team,” said Harry, “Matty came to us from Illinois in the spring of 1934. He was a strong right-handed pitcher. Hutchinson attracted several good men who married and lived here in the winter off-season. Matty and some of the other Larks’ players rented space at the McFaddon rooming house.”

“I remember when Matty was hired by Sheriff Guy Ankerholz,” said Lulu. “It was 1940 or ’41. Matty was a service station manager at C. W. Kelly at 30th and Main. When he occasionally learned news helpful to local law enforcement, he would call the sheriff’s office. Due to Matty’s reliable information, one day Guy drove up to the station and invited him to work as a deputy sheriff.

“Matty remained on the force until drafted December 15, 1942. The Army was lucky to get him. He’s a born leader, good with men, and knows his directions out in the woods.”

Shoulder-sleeve patch design of the U. S. Army 14th Armored Division, 1942-45. Image from Wikipedia.

*

Ruth Ann McFaddon Mathias, 34, bookkeeper at Smith’s Flowers, enters the display room, smiling while wiping tears from her face. She’s been speaking with her husband, David Orville “Matty” Mathias, 39.  

*

“Matty’s in New York City!” said Ruth. “He’s in a cast from his head to his waist. He’s itching so bad he’s threatened to eat his way out of it.

“I’m going to be patient with Matty; he’s been patient with me. He thinks he’s got bad luck because of being severely injured by the shrapnel in his back, however, I think it’s a blessing he’s alive. Rather than him being wounded, we could have a gold star on our door.”

“I’m so happy for you two,” said Harry. “This is the news you’ve been waiting for.”

“Congratulations on getting Matty closer to home,” said Lulu.

“The Hutchinson Larks brought him to Hutch: I kept him here,” said Ruth. “Then, Uncle Sam took him away. Now, I want him back home again.  

“Matty’s next stop is Okmulgee, Oklahoma, where he’ll remain hospitalized until he’s better. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him; I can’t wait any longer. He’s asked me to join him in Oklahoma. I told him, ‘I’ll start packing today.’”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

 

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My Dad, the Sheriff

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/Reno-County-My-Dad-the-Sheriff.mp3· My Dad, the SheriffNewlyweds Juanita & Guy Ankerholz posed for this 1928 photograph taken at D&M Studio, 26 1/2 North Main. Author’s collection.

It’s Sunday afternoon, January 10, 1943, at the home of Juanita Mae Chambers Ankerholz and Guy Leo Ankerholz, 829 East 6th Avenue, Hutchinson, Kansas. Their daughter, Dona “DeNean,” 10, is writing a school report that’s due the next day.

*

“Mom,” said DeNean, “my teacher said we should write on something, but not everything.”

“She’s correct, you want people to learn about a topic. You’re writing about your father being Reno County sheriff for the last four years. What will your class learn about him from your report?”

“One of the boys, who saw Dad walking, asked me if he had been shot in the leg by a bootlegger or a bank robber.

Diploma in hand, Guy graduates eighth grade from Liberty School, District 130. Author’s collection.

“In my story, I’m explaining that Dad has never been shot, that his hip fused together in a sitting position after he got blood poisoning when he was just eight years old. I’m also telling them that even though my dad can’t fight in the war, he helps protect people in Reno County from criminals.”

“Very good,” said Juanita. “He’s never had to shoot anyone, either. You know Dad; he thinks he can talk himself out of any trouble.”

“When I interviewed him, he said one reason he got elected was his smile,” said DeNean. “Dad said that when he was young, he learned that if you wanted to be popular, you had to smile. As sheriff, he’d rather flash his smile than a gun. I’m also writing that most of the time as sheriff he doesn’t carry his gun or handcuffs, but he does keep them in the car, just in case.

“Dad has said that he thinks it would be braggadocio to show his gun in public,” continued DeNean. “He said that’s like bragging.”

“Yes,” agreed Juanita. “Your father sees displaying a gun as boasting, and that it’s a weakness of character. Your father’s character has made him an outstanding peace officer. Because of his disability, I think he also shows more compassion than others.

“He cares about people, DeNean, even criminals. I’ve heard him say that even though a man’s a criminal, he’s still a man. He’s a human being.”

“Dad said that some of his best friends are criminals and that sometimes it’s from them he gets good information to solve crimes and make arrests.

“Mom, Dad also told me that when he grew up on the farm northeast of Sylvia, he didn’t know any colored people. He said that after Sheriff Brown hired him, his boss gave him a lesson about treating everyone fairly.

Juanita Chambers and Guy Ankerholz standing next to his 1927 Whippet convertible. Authors collection.

“One night, Dad went to visit the sheriff at the old jail on East B. After Dad got out of his car, a colored man, who was loud and drunk, came up to Dad and put his arm around him. To get away from the man, Dad said he wasn’t too polite.

“When Dad got up the steps, Sheriff Fay Brown gave his new office clerk a lecture. He said, ‘If you’re going to work in public office, you’re going to have to learn that coloreds are just the same as you are.’

“Dad said: ‘From then on, I treated people of all colors the same. That’s one of the things I hadn’t learned on the farm.’”

“Did Dad remind you about when he rammed his sheriff’s car into a getaway car that had two heavily armed criminals in it after a hold up?” asked Juanita. “That was just a couple of years ago on Thanksgiving. Do you remember it?”

“I remember he had to leave our turkey dinner,” said DeNean, “but now that I’m writing about it, I need more details. Dad said that a lot of lawmen were chasing the vehicle and shooting at it. It had a dozen bullet holes in it after it crashed. Somehow, no one was hurt.”

“That’s right,” agreed Juanita. “Your Dad sideswiped the other car and forced it off the road, causing it to roll on its side. The newspaper called it courageous and daring, but when I heard about it, I nearly fainted thinking about how your father could have been injured or killed in the wreck.”

This car was used by Ankerholz when he campaigned successfully for sheriff in 1936 and 1938.

“Dad asked me to mention that in his two terms in office, a total of four years, not a single prisoner has escaped from the county jail. Dad said that before the present courthouse was built, there were a lot of escapes in the old, worn-out jail.”

“Yes, there were still escapes when your dad worked for Sheriff Brown in the courthouse. Is there anything else you want in your story?”

“I don’t think so. Dad told me about the first time he met you and how, for him, it was love at first sight. I don’t think I need to include that in this paper. I’m writing on something, not everything.”

“You’re right, honey; that’s personal, but I’m glad Daddy shared that with you. When I met him in 1927, he had recently been hired by Sheriff Brown to be his office clerk. I was only 16 when we met, and 17 when we married.

Donald, 6, entered the room, yawning and rubbing his sleepy eyes as he approached Juanita. “Mom, I’m hungry, can I have some more of your cherry pie?”

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

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That’s Him

https://jimpotterauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/Reno-County-Thats-Him.mp3· “That’s Him.”Rosanna Sandberg, 21-year-old, Hutchinson musician & former journalism student at Kansas State College. File photo, Hutchinson News, June 15, 1938.

It’s Sunday night, August 7, 1938, in Hutchinson, Kansas, at the Charline and George Allison home, 309 West 16th Avenue. George, 55; Charline, 54; and their daughter, Georgiann, 14, are playing cards.

*

“Dad, now that Rosanna Sandberg has positively identified her kidnapper, do you think she’ll sleep better tonight?” asked Georgiann.

“Sure thing,” answered George. “I think the fact that she was able to see Earl Young dead, lying in the Hot Springs morgue, should give her some peace.”

As Charline shuffled the cards, she said, “Rosanna’s a brave girl.”

“She’s smart too,” said George. “When he kidnapped her and Marcus Cain, Jr., she hid her diamond ring in her mouth because she thought the stranger was a robber. And, despite him telling her not to look at him, Rosanna was able to identify him from the photograph I showed her. Once we had the positive identification, I knew he’d be captured.”

“Are you disappointed you didn’t get to go to Hot Springs with Rosanna and her mother?” asked Georgiann.

“I don’t miss the 600-mile drive,” said George, “I can always use the rest. Chief White did what he needed to do to close the case and to make sure the reward gets paid. Those two Hot Spring detectives deserve the money. They could have easily been killed at the hotel in the shootout.”

WANTED: Kidnapping, Rape, & Attempted Murder at Hutchinson, KS, June 15, 1938. Earl Young, 28; height 5′ 8″, 150 pounds; medium build, dark complexion, black hair, brown eyes. Body well tattooed. Escapee from County Jail at Lebanon, PA. Served time in the Eastern Penitentiary at Philadelphia, PA. Photo from Hutchinson News, July 10, 1938.

“It’s still difficult to believe a man that cold-blooded was in Hutchinson, Kansas, harming our youth,” said Charline. “After he escaped from jail in Lebanon, Pennsylvania, he’s suspected of other sex crimes and at least three murders in South Dakota and Texas.”

“Rosanna is lucky to be alive,” stated George.

“I hope she recovers fully and will continue to perform with her xylophone,” said Georgiann. “She’s talented.”

“If anyone can overcome being kidnapped and raped, it’s Rosanna,” said Charline. “Look at her, she’s not afraid to stand up and be strong about her unfortunate circumstances. Rather than hide, she’s been sure of herself and outspoken.”

“Rosanna did all she could do when she was attacked in the country north of Newton,” said George. “Even though her hands were tied, she kicked, screamed, and honked the car’s horn. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was Young hitting her in the face and tightening his necktie around her neck, causing her eyes to bulge.”

“She’s found strength from somewhere,” said Charline.

“When Chief White prepared Rosanna to inspect Young’s body,” said George, “he told her to take her time before deciding beyond a doubt if it was the same man that had hurt her. She looked at the body for several minutes, turned to the chief and said: ‘That’s him.’”

“Marcus Cain got off lightly, compared to Rosanna,” said Charline, “but it must have been terrifying for him to be bound to a telephone pole and gagged by a criminal on a lonely field east of the new junior college stadium.”

“It all started with Rosanna and Marcus just listening to the car radio while parked in front of her home,” said George. “Young must have been looking to steal another vehicle when he spotted them and pulled his gun.”

“How can you prevent a crime like that?” asked Charline.

“Young was a violent sex maniac,” answered George. “It took several bullets to stop his crime wave. If he hadn’t been killed, he would have continued to hurt innocent people.”

*

Charline remembered losing her 14-month-old baby Burkson to illness and considered how devastating it would be to have her 14-year-old Georgiann stolen away.

“The whole thing was so horrible,” said Charline. “I’m glad it’s over.”

“Do you think Rosanna will continue with her wedding plans?” asked Georgiann.

“Whether she keeps the date or not,” said Charlene, “it will take a special man, someone like your father, to understand her and be patient with her.”

*

Charline started humming an old parlor song, I Love You Truly. It was a favorite of hers that she had sung at weddings.

She handed the cards to Georgiann, pushed back her chair, and stood erect, raising her open arms in front of George as an invitation to him. He stood up straight, walked close to her, and they clasped hands.

“What about our game?” whined Georgiann.

Her parents didn’t hear a word.

While Charline sang, I Love You Truly, she and George remembered, smiled, and danced, no longer thinking of kidnapped children.

*

Until next time, happy writing and reading.

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