A few months ago, someone asked us why Magnolia was such a common name for businesses in Johnson County, Missouri. Doing some research, our research turned up some unexpected surprises! Warrensburg, Missouri was home to two prominent venues, Magnolia Mills and the Magnolia Opera House, as well as the Magnolia General Store a few miles south of town and another business or two. There was also a very vibrant town named Magnolia in Johnson County Missouri! Trying to find out why Magnolia was such a common name has been a fun challenge for us and thought you might want to know the story.
First, some background about the word magnolia! You may be familiar with the flower, Magnolia. The Magnolia flower was named by the Swedish botanist Carl Linneaus in 1737 in honor of the French botanist Pierre Magnol (1638-1715). The plant which Magnol had described is that we now know as Magnolia Virginiana, an evergreen American species which despite its name was already growing in Europe by the mid eighteenth century. The magnolia tree is a beautiful and ancient species that has been around for over 100 million years. It’s no surprise, then, that the name “Magnolia” has been used for centuries to name girls. It is known for its beauty and elegance, and it’s often associated with femininity and grace. It is also a symbol of perseverance and strength, as the tree is able to withstand harsh weather conditions and bloom year after year. Magnolias are also believed to symbolize nobility and dignity as well as a love for nature.
In the United States, the magnolia tree symbolizes luck and stability. It’s a staple in Southern gardens and delights people with its flower in the early to mid-spring. It is also known to often be used in traditional folk medicine.
And now…the Magnolia name in Johnson County, Missouri!
MAGNOLIA MILLS
Magnolia Mills, also known more recently as Innes Elevator Mills, was a historic grist mill complex located in Warrensburg at the corner of West Pine Street and Washington Street. The original building was built in 1879, and enlarged in 1884, 1888 and 1918. It consisted of a four- story frame mill building with a three-story frame elevator topped with a monitor roof and large cupola. A modern concrete elevator and mill were added in the late 1940’s. Only the concrete elevator remains of the original buildings. The initial owners of the mill, William H. Hartman and Isaac Markward were active in its daily operation for many years, and both became leading businessmen in the community. The time period in which Hartman and Markward were building the mill and developing their business represents a turning point in the technology of making flour. These two entrepreneurs were active community members, building and owning many houses and contributing financially to build a better Warrensburg by starting and operating another business in 1903, The Magnolia Milling and Investment Company. Part of the building still stands. We still don’t know why they named it Magnolia Mills.
MAGNOLIA OPERA HOUSE
Issac Markward and William Hartman expanded upon their mill’s success by constructing a combination office building and theater – The Magnolia Opera House, which opened on October 25, 1890. The three-story building sits at the northeast corner of Washington and West Pine. The theater seated about 800 people, with 300 balcony seats and room for 500 within its main seating area. This theater hosted community theater and traveling troupes for decades.
The Magnolia Opera House structure itself consisted of spaces used for offices and retailing. In fact, the ground floor included a shop the partners managed that sold Studebaker wagons and buggies, along with gasoline engines and farming implements. The Opera House still stands but has been converted into The Warrensburg Opera House Loft Apartments.
MAGNOLIA LIGHT, HEAT, AND POWER COMPANY
The partners were also involved in bringing electricity to Warrensburg, and in 1893 the Magnolia Light, Heat, and Power Company was incorporated. The power plant was located just one block east of Magnolia Mills. It brought 6,000 lights to Warrensburg and placed electricity into homes and businesses.
MAGNOLIA MILLING AND INVESTMENT COMPANY
This company was the original company formed by Markward and Hartman to purchase the Mill and other properties. After the death of his longtime business partner Hartman, Markward retired from the Magnolia Mills and sold the business to the Magnolia Milling and Investment Company.
Hartman remained active in the Warrensburg community but was no longer with the Magnolia Milling and Investment Company, which now had five shareholders. The Board of Directors included President, Daniel Bullard, Vice President, W. H. Hagemeyer, H. F. Kirk, along with two other individuals from Holden, Missouri. Bullard and Kirk came to the scene, both with prior milling experience, and Hagemeyer from a solid business background.
MAGNOLIA, MISSOURI
On May 9, 1886, W. H. Hagemeyer, Vice President of the Magnolia Milling and Investment Company, gave the land needed to found and establish the town of Magnolia, Missouri. Magnolia was located about 15 miles southwest of Warrensburg. The town was named Magnolia by Hagemeyer because he liked the Magnolia tree and how the name was used in the establishment of the businesses in Warrensburg
About the same time of Magnolia’s founding, the Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad laid tracks in Magnolia as a part of the east to west railroad system, a venture that led to many towns springing up on their line. Quickly Magnolia became a thriving community. The decision to bring Magnolia to this location was likely because of the two watershed systems and the site’s elevation of 883 feet, enough to provide a sustainable water system for Magnolia.
The town quickly thrived! With a bank, a lumberyard, two churches, a high school, a physician and general stores, Magnolia quickly grew into a vibrant town.
Magnolia ceased to exist in 1956 and today there is little to remind anyone that Magnolia was once was an active community. The only remnant is the original Baptist Church that is still standing. It was nostalgic for us to walk around the area that had once been such a vibrant place.
And so, we come to an end – well, not quite! Very recently an old building in Warrensburg has been restored to house Magnolia Mercantile. One of the owners spent the first six years of his life growing up in Magnolia, Missouri. He now lives on his family land and operates this wonderful new venue! Read more about Magnolia on a future despersonages.com Blog – you will be introduced!
Thank you everyone who helped us with this history! Ann Houx, thanks for your diligence!
Lucinda Grimes Burgess was born on September 25, 1829, in Kentucky, the daughter of Ann and Obediah Grimes. She married William Moses Burgess on July 16, 1847. He preceded her in death as did one son. Lucinda died in Holden, MO on December 12 1910 and is buried in the Holden Cemetery. Following the Civil War and the death of her husband, Lucinda moved to Holden, MO. Holden was a rapidly growing town in central Missouri owning largely to the completion of the Pacific Railroad that ran through town connecting the east and west coasts of the USA. A few years later, the Missouri, Kansas and Texas Railroad also traversed the town bringing much commerce and many travelers to the community.
Upon her arrival in Holden, Lucinda, in her mid-30’s, followed the pattern in Sedalia and other railroad towns, opened a brothel which was frequented by the many Section Hands living in Holden and working for the railroad maintenance crews. Her establishment was located on Smokey Row, north of the business district and the railroads tracks. Prostitution became a profitable endeavor generating monies for the proprietor as well as city officials by way of per-capita “licenses” purchased to ensure that law enforcement turned a blind eye to the operation. Brothels of the period became not only a provider of pleasure but of social interaction between a variety of local personalities including the mayor and other officials.
Historically these professional ladies throughout the world have used passion, booze, and sex to obtain sensitive/secretive information. Such was the case when Lucinda Burgess became aware that two men were plotting the robbery of a mail train that would be arriving from the east transporting money to the banks in Holden to pay the railroad workers!
Through her acquaintance with the mayor and other city officials, Lucinda alerted the railroad security and law enforcement of the plot, date, and probable location. It was, of course, in her economic interest to do so in order to preserve her clients and their means to pay for services.
On the morning in question, the two men walked from Pittsville, MO, a community nine miles north, to Holden to commit the crime. It is uncertain if the leak of information, or due to other circumstances, but the plot was abandoned and Lucinda had indeed serviced the entire community.
Following the aborted plot to rob the train, the plotters, George Riley and Charlie Jones, holed up in Lucinda’s bawdy house! A multitude of heavily armed security officers, law enforcement officers, deputies and railroad personnel had been dispatched on an armored train to foil the robbery and were not wanting to return home empty handed. They were determined to raid Lucinda’s establishment suspecting they would find the would-be robbers. There, being the site where the leak of the plot originated, it would seem to be a likely place to begin their search.
Lucinda’s house was surrounded and entry was demanded. They found two men in bed with Lucinda, Charlie Jones and George Riley. Upon hearing the commotion, authorities surrounded the house; Charlie Jones pulled up his pantaloons and broke for the door being guarded by railroad detective, John Jackson. While escaping, Jones fired a shot which struck Jackson in the head above the right eye. Jones escaped in a hail of gunfire. Having lost his trail, dogs were brought in to bolster the pursuit.
George Riley was captured at Lucinda’s house and jailed. In the following days an informant agreed, for a sum of money, to disclose the whereabouts of Charlie Jones at a location near Bristol Ridge. Officers found him (again in bed) and ordered him up under the muzzle of a shotgun. Jones sprung up, knocking the shotgun harmlessly away, and bolted for the door where other officers brought him down in a heap of humanity. A shot was fired but went wide of it’s mark. Jones was arrested and charged with multiple robberies to which he confessed. He was also charged with the robbery of the Pittsville Post Office, a federal offense, and was turned over to federal authorities.
Lucinda Burgess died at the age of 81 years old in 1910. The facts suggest strongly that she was the true proprietor of her establishment and not subjected to the myriad of diseases encountered by practitioners in the trade. It was a profitable endeavor as evidenced by the fact that her daughter continued the business another five years after her mother’s death.
Students at Central Missouri State College in Warrensburg delight in showing visitors through Selmo Park, a post-bellum home, now occupied by the school’s President.
Few landmarks have had the good fortune to be preserved for other generations, except as they have become the property of landmark societies or other groups for the safeguarding of the past. But Selmo Park, now the residence of the President of Central Missouri State College in Warrensburg has been one of those rare landmarks preserved for the youth of future generations, and the young people of Missouri are enjoying this beautiful old home. Built in 1866 by Major Edmond A. Nickerson, one of the writers of the 1875 Missouri Constitution, the large rambling colonial house has domiciled the great of its generation and is now attracting the youth of another generation.
On September 29, 1926 the Board of Regents of the College purchased the ten-acre tract of land and the stately old Nickerson home from members of the family. For more than half a century, Selmo Park had been a show place of the town. Now the old house is the center of campus life of the College. President and Mrs. George W. Diemer, formerly of Kansas City, have made it a home away from home for the college students, preserving the hospitality for which the old house was renowned.
Students Are Proud Of It
Hundreds of young men and women stroll through the large rooms and marvel at the beauty of the old house when the yearly fall reception of the President is held. Quietly, almost in awe, the new freshmen climb the long winding colonial stairway to the second floor which is equally as interesting as the first. And many of the upperclassmen proudly show off the house to new students. Often they stand and study the beautiful fireplaces, still as they were when the house was built, or marvel at the unusual floor of the old dining room, now used as the President’s study. Sometime after the house was completed a cabinet maker laid the floor of old seasoned black walnut and dark oak which was cut by hand. The pattern is diagonal with the back walnut and dark oak intermingled.
The original chandeliers, which still hang from the high ceilings of the front parlor and music room, are similar to those found in the Governor’s Mansion in Jefferson City. Like all southern families, the family portraits had an important place in the Nickerson home. The candelabra with beautiful crystals catching the soft light enhance the attractiveness of the rambling house with its large rooms. The woodwork was enameled white when the house was constructed and that has never been changed. The only exception is the finishing of the woodwork is the black walnut bannisters of the stairway and the black mantles in the old home are colonial design, and attract much attention from visitors who wander through the rooms, admiring their southern atmosphere and beauty.
A Great Entertainer
Because of Major Nickerson’s prominence in the State, many of the nation’s greats shared his hospitality. Dr. W. Pope Yeaman, renowned Baptist minister was often a guest in those early years. Senator and Mrs. George Vest, remembered for his classic appeal for the old hound dog, Drum, and later a prominent lawyer and legislator of the State, were guests at Selmo Park as were Governor J. Hoge Tyler, of Virginia, a nephew of Mrs. Nickerson and Colonel Miner Meriwether of St. Louis and Memphis. Judges of the Supreme Court were often entertained by the Nickerson family. Madame Ernestine Schumann Haink sang for the family there. The list is long and many are forgotten who shared the pleasure and comfort of Selmo Park.
When Major Nickerson, who was born in Baltimore, came to Missouri in 1857, he settled in Union, where he practiced law. Right after the Civil War he came to Warrensburg and bought a large wooded tract of land south of the town. The brick and building materials had to be hauled over rough country roads and through the woods to the site of the new house. The walls of the house are of solid brick, also the inside walls. The side lights at the front door are made of ruby glass.
The Old Mansion Look
The big square brick house has large green shutters which give it the air of an old southern mansion as it sits far back from the busy noisy thoroughfare. Major and Mrs. Nickerson loved the out-of-doors and took pride in their home. They planted all kinds of trees that would live in this climate among the big forest trees already on their spacious grounds. They had a graceful circular driveway built in front of the house, and many people used to drive out just to see it. The driveway was laid out by the civil war engineers who surveyed the first railroad across Missouri. They were assisted by Louis Nickerson, a brother of Major Nickerson. The younger Nickerson later assisted in building the Eads Bridge across the Mississippi river. But the driveway was changed after the college purchased the estate to meet the demands of automobiles.
A few additions have been made and some changes, but the old house stands sturdy and still attractive in its original state. Unlike the seven day wonders of today, Selmo Park, which was built for generations to come, will stand as a constant reminder of that period in Missouri history when leisurely comfort and splendor made a man’s home his castle.
Issac Jacobs bought 160 acres of Missouri open prairie in 1857 for twelve and a half cents an acre from the United States Federal Government in anticipation of the proposed railroad lines being developed by the Union Pacific Railroad to connect the east and west coasts by rail. In 1858 he petitioned the State of Missouri for a railroad depot to be located in the hamlet of Holden, Missouri. Thirty city lots were sold at $25.00 each in hopes that the development of the proposed depot and railyard could be accomplished. The railroad corridor between St. Louis and Kansas City began and very shortly afterward but the Civil War broke out stopping work on the railroad lines construction.
Holden was officially founded in 1858 and soon began to build an infrastructure and develop the town’s core. Holden had received notification that the railroad corridor would include Holden as a full-scale operational center for the railroad to include sites for the delivery of track, maintenance for equipment that was being brought in, as well as skilled workers for every aspect of being a railroad center.
Plans for the completion of the final connection were set aside because of Confederate States Army General Sterling Price’s raid through Missouri in the fall of 1864. The booming construction labor force in Holden had been run off, and the work west of Warrensburg, attempting to connect with the completed line from Independence Missouri and Kansas City were suspended. Price ordered his Confederate troops to destroy every bridge west of Jefferson City. The population of Holden was reduced to about 100 people. Destruction by both the Northern and Southern sympathizers left the town with few major structures still standing.
Later in the 1860s, the War had ended and work resumed to complete the rail line. As the tracks passed through Holden, a building boom began. Holden became the logistical backbone to provide the core of the operation, employing over a 100 railroad Section Hands who were charged with ensuring the completion of the line between St. Louis and Kansas City by building and maintain rails and bridges for 400 miles to the east and provide the same services for the 100 miles to the west toward Kansas City. The attendant machine shops, water tanks, piles of coal and sand sprang up rapidly. Coal mining provided the locomotives, factories, stores and homes with fuel as did the lumber industry in the Missouri Ozarks by providing the timber for cross ties and smaller bridges.
In the 1870’s, encouraged greatly by a gift of $70,000 possibly raised by local merchants and farmers to the railroad companies, the construction of an extension line began. The gift extended the railroad system from Paola, KS to Holden. Holden was the hub because of the existing Roundhouse sending the train back to the West. About 25 years later, MK&T expanded the line southwest to Windsor, MO to connect their East and West railroad lines.
By the 1880s, Holden had become an industrial and commercial center supported by an increasing number of side tracks and switches to access elevators, mills, meat packers, stock yards and other businesses that were opened to provide services for the workers and their families. Travelers and new residents were surely amazed by all of the tracks and activity.
These were the days before railway dining and refrigerated cars and Holden rose to the challenge. Both east and west bound trains stopped in Holden. Passengers could get off the trains and eat breakfast or their evening meal before continuing to their destinations. The icehouse provided large blocks of ice to keep perishable freight cold. The Talmage House Hotel, located between the Missouri Pacific and MK&T railroad tracks had a large kitchen and dining room conveniently located near both depots and fed a multitude of hungry travelers. Another dining establishment was located on the site now occupied by the Holden Image newspaper office.
If you can remember the opening scene from the television show “Rawhide” with cattle driven down Ohio Street in Sedalia, MO, you might visualize similar occurrences in Holden as livestock were gathered at the local stockyard for transport to Kansas City. If you can, I suggest a trip to the Sedalia Train Depot and Museum to learn more!
I have spent way too much time trying to decide my “K” word for this Blog – so it’s not for a lack of trying that this entry is going to be a bit different! If you have a favorite “K” word and it isn’t included here – forgive me for the omission! The obvious choices were Kind andKindness but those are being over so overused right now and they don’t carry the strength they did previously.
The there are only 3,952 words in the English language (1.07%) that begin with “K”. There are only 1,339 “K” words used for the game of Scrabble.
…Many words that begin with the letter “C” have the same sound as a “K”. To name a few, crash, crunch, click, clack, cluck, clock, can, computer, cater, cool, cupcake, complete, casual, come, cast, cake, cookie, castle and cold.
…Many words that begin with “KN” have an “N” sound only: know, knowledge, kneed, knee, knot, knob, knit, knew, knife, knelt, knotty to name a few.
…And so, kabob, kale, kangaroo, kaput, karat, kayak, kazoo, keel, keen, keep, kennel, kerosine, kettle, key, kick, kidney, kill, kilo, kiln, kin, kind, kindred, king, kiosk, kiss, kitchen, kite, kitten, to name a few, truly have the “K” sound
…And then there are the proper names! Kris, Kim, Kourtney, Khloe, Kylie and Kendall Kardashian, Katharine, Kamala, Kate, Kristen and Kennedy. In fact, there have been 986,072 girls named Karen and 841, 144 girls named Kimberly born in the past 100 years!
WHAT TO DO WITH KAREN CARPENTER, CAROLINE KENNEDY, CORRETTA KING AND KELLY CLARKSON?????
Kael, Kafka, Kahn, Kaline, (Te)Kanawa, Karan, Karloff, Kasparov, Kasselbaum, Katz, Kaufman, Kavner, Kaye, Keach, Keaton, Keats, Keeler, Keillor, Keitel, Keith, Keller, Kellerman, Kellogg, Kerrigan, Kissinger, Key, Keyes, Kidman, Kilmer, Kinkaid, Kinsey, Kipling, Kirk, Kirby, Kirkpatrick, Kitt, Klein, Knight, BEYONCE, Koch, Korman, Kristofferson and on, and on, and on….
Perhaps you can see the dilemma I had when trying to find a “K” word to write a complete Blog about! And with that, I am going to leave “K” and wander on to “L”! Whew!
I was recently asked what or who has been the most influential in my life. After much consideration, I answered, “my hometown and my family.” My town, Holden, Missouri, located in Western Johnson County, has a rich and interesting history; one that I think effectively reflects the evolution of our society as a whole. I want to share my thoughts with you by giving you many of my experiences and thoughts about growing up in my little town.
Holden has been my home since I was two years old. World War II was just over and families were excited to build upon the promises of a future of peace and prosperity. My father, E. Benjamin Cast who also grew up in Holden, left to serve in the United States Navy during the war in many locations, but returned to Holden where his parents, brothers and sisters, and many friends still lived. My Dad returned to Holden and bought and operated the Cast Funeral Home that opened in 1946. I owned and operated the funeral home after his death in 2006 until I retired and sold the company in 2013. I still own and operate the Cast Monuments Company that keeps me very busy and connected.
By the time I was six years old, Holden became mine to explore, a typical, thriving small town in 1950 with a growing population of almost 2000 people. Everyone knew most everyone and we had a modicum of security and basically knew no fear. My friend, Wilmer Carter, and I spent lots of time exploring Holden and we wanted to know all we could about almost everything! I came to know most everyone in town, too, which made it easier to sell the surplus from our garden to Holden residents, selling the fruits and vegetables from my Radio Flyer wagon.
My family always impressed on me the importance of hard work, thrift and good citizenship. At age eight, I got a bicycle for my birthday, which expanded my curiosity and ability to discover Holden. I remember vividly riding north on Vine Street to the railroad tracks and seeing the stockyards for the first time. I learned that Holden had previously been a point for rail shipments of livestock into Kansas City. We had a milling company, four grain elevators, an ice plant, the Holden Creamery, the Rockledge Farm Equipment manufacturer, the Beaumont Canvas Company, the Dunhill Manufacturing plant, the local utility companies, two packing houses, three automobile and three farm implement dealerships, the Talmage House Hotel and a thriving business district. We had jewelers, hardware stores, croquet courts (one indoors), bakeries, appliance stores and drug stores. There were eight grocery stores in town and my mother, Gene, would send me to those stores and let me collect the Green, Yellow and Gold Bond savings stamps. I redeemed the stamps for tools and accessories for my bicycle!
I also began a lawncare business after my father purchased a rotary lawnmower! That opened new entrepreneurial opportunities and I had a thriving business! I soon began trimming shrubbery as well and very soon opened a bank savings account at the Bank of Holden and began purchasing United States Government savings bonds!
I entered first grade in 1949 (we didn’t have a kindergarten). My class had forty students in one room with the same teacher who had taught my father in first grade. Miss Long was kindly but her rules were more strictly applied than allowable today.
During the 1950’s Holden was very active! Families from surrounding farm communities came to shop and socialize every Saturday, crowding the streets as they visited the multitude of stores, restaurants, and the Holden Theater, a modern movie theater. Most of the businesses were open until the movie theater cleared at about ten p.m. and many restaurants were open until midnight.
The Holden Chiefs, a semi-professional baseball team, provided sports entertainment weekly for large crowds. The team was highly competitive against teams from the Kansas City metropolitan area and Eastern Kansas featuring the likes of Sachel Page. The ballpark was built largely by Verle “Stub” Roberts, the owner of the Johnson County Lumber Company and was the Manager of the Holden Chiefs. Stub was also a scout for several major league teams as well. We had the Chamber of Commerce Park, that over the years housed livestock sheds, a go-cart track, the Boy Scout Cabin, and a swimming pool. Today, the area is owned by the City of Holden but the pool and the Boy Scout Cabin are gone. Basketball courts and picnic facilities have been added as well as a horse show arena, the Holden Saddle Club.
I will be writing much more about Holden as I write more for this blog. So much has changed and much as stayed the same and eventually I will bring you into the present! I was recently elected to the Board of Directors of the Johnson County Historical Society and I will share these stories in their quarterly newsletter. Holden has had a very rich history and many very interesting people have lived here. Your input is appreciated; you can reach me at castsmith713@gmail.com
(YES, Another “J” – Another Johnson! Best read with Russian Vodka…)
Something happened to me on Saturday, October 29, 1960, a day that that I’ve never forgotten as it awakened my mind! I heard a presentation titled “The Russian Rulers Told Me”, given by Bea Johnson at the Missouri Association of Future Homemakers of America in Hendricks Hall on the campus of Central Missouri State College in my hometown of Warrensburg, Missouri. I had never heard of Bea but her words had a HUGE impact on me at the time. So, let me introduce Bea Thrailkill Johnson to you!
Bea was born in Warrensburg, Missouri to Florence (Coleman) and John Thrailkill on November 21, 1910. She attended College Laboratory School, and College High School, then enrolled at Central Missouri State College in Warrensburg before continuing her education at the University of Missouri – Columbia, receiving her degree in Journalism in 1932. (Of note – she transferred to MU at the insistence of her parents because they didn’t like the young man she was seeing at the time!)
After graduation Bea moved to Kansas City. She began her 26-year career as a radio and television personality, first at KMBC radio in 1936 using the name Joanne Taylor! Later she became the Women’s Director at KMBC television in 1952. She now had her own television show, a daily telecast titled Happy Home. During that time, she received national attention for her on camera interviews with Lady Astor, Aristotle Onassis, Prime Minister Nehru of India, J. Edgar Hoover and Marshal Zhukov of Russia. (Zhukov served as Chief of the General Staff, Minister of Defense and Presidium of Politburo.) She travelled to five continents and spoke in 47 states. She earned many awards for her radio and television work as well as many local and national awards for providing opportunities for women. She was named to the National Defense Advisory Committee and other national groups by presidents of both political parties and was active in local and national art and philanthropic organizations.
In 1955, Bea arranged for a group of American women journalists to travel to Geneva, Switzerland, for a worldwide broadcaster’s conference. Following the conference, Bea arranged for these women to receive press credentials from the White House as accredited correspondents to cover the Big Four Conference, there in Geneva. This conference was attended by United States President Dwight D. Eisenhower, Prime Minister Faure of France, Sir Anthony Eden, (Prime Minister of the United Kingdom) and Premier Marshall Bulganin of Russia. There were six credentialed women from the United States and only two additional women from around the world allowed to cover the very important summit.
In 1959, Bea travelled to Russia where she was the first American – man or woman – to ever record and transcribe interviews with Nikolai Alexandrovich Bulganin (President of the Soviet Union), Marshal Zhukov (who she had previously interviewed on her radio show in Kansas City) and other Kremlin dictators. She was the first woman from the free world to ever enter their offices, hear their voices and record unforgettable interviews regarding the “Russians of Russia”. A newspaper account reported that her tour was the “Reddest Red” carpet tour ever documented by any American in our history. Bea arranged the tour, accompanied by other American journalists, and upon her return to the United States, Bea took her lecture, “The Russian Rulers Told Me on tour – and thankfully to the FHA Conference I attended one Saturday in Warrensburg, Missouri.
I was so attentive to her words – never even having imagined that a woman could have experienced, or figured out how to travel to Geneva (let alone Russia) Her talk in Warrensburg, for me, was eye opening and I decided that perhaps I could accomplish something too that was out of the ordinary, verging on extraordinary and figure out how to do that. Then the women’s movement came along later – and I discovered it was possible! Though I grew up around very successful women, her words have guided me throughout my professional career! Gain knowledge, work hard, process well and your dreams can become your reality!
Bea’s recordings and documents are available at the University of Kansas City Library, the National Archives in Washington, D. C. Senator Bob Dole of Kansas provided a tribute to Bea in the Congressional Record after her death in 1976. You can find copies of her cookbooks on Amazon (featuring very fabulous recipes from very famous people), read more about her life online, and learn so much more!
I was fourteen years old on that day that changed my life!
By the way, she married R. Dean Johnson (her first date and the one her parents didn’t approve) in 1974. They remained happily married, with two daughters.
He can turn the world on with his smile! I have a new blog partner! Dan and I grew up 17 miles away from each other, he in Holden, Missouri and I in Warrensburg, Missouri. My high school played against his high school in sports but we really had no connection beyond that. So, after getting to know him over the past nearly seven years, it seems that we have been following each other around the world, literally, for our entire life. You will learn of his love for his hometown, find out some interesting history of Holden, and also learn of Dan’s interesting and amazing experiences that he has had throughout his life. He is a graduate of Westminster College, a private college in Fulton, Missouri, earning a Bachelor of Arts in Biology. He then joined the Army and was stationed various places but spent the longest time in Vicenza, Italy, a place he truly loves!
Dan then joined the family business back in Holden, having received a degree in Mortuary Science, to join the Cast Funeral Home and Mortuary. He has since retired but still continues with monument sales for the Company. He is a consummate historian – his home is a remodeled sanitarium, a residence and medical facility built in Holden in 1905. Much of the house contains original doors, windows, porches and staircases. The front entrance way to the house is truly magnificent with original grand glass paneled doors, high ceiling and floors.
He decided early in his career that he wanted to learn more about the human condition and enrolled at Central Missouri State College (now UCM) and received a Masters Degree in Sociology (a year before I did…and we still didn’t meet). We have fun reminiscing about our professors and how much we both learned from them – Drs. Britten, Pittman, Dee, among others.
So, I am so pleased to welcome Dan to the world of blogging – we promise to be diligent in getting posts published as often as possible and give our readers interesting, insightful and likely thought-provoking entries. I will still be snarking my way through the alphabet! Join us please!
Four years ago, at a lovely wintertime Salon, hosted by a dear friend, I met Ray Crisp! At some point along the way, as our conversations usually do, the Salon conversation turned to the new ways to communicate! Many of us were, admittedly, far behind the latest methods and internet developments used for touching other lives but about mid-conversation, Ray Crisp said that he wanted to start a Blog. Instantly I said I wanted to do the same. I was certain that neither of us knew much information about what a Blog actually was, or could be, but we set a date to talk it over!
We met for coffee that same week and vowed to figure out not only what a Blog really was but how we could collaborate and start our own! We read all we could about blogging, established a Code of Ethics for ourselves, started to dream about what we wanted to post on our Blog and practiced writing a Blog – each of us writing a Blog about the Nine Muses. I wrote mine after doing lots of research about the Muses – it turned out rather term-paper-ish! Ray made up new stories about the Muses set in 2019! We knew we were going to be just fine working together, both with grand imaginations and diligence!
What to name it! We wanted a recognizable name so we looked at names of liquor, looked for one that was not a universal choice for people, and finally landed on Cognac! Because it was taken, we created cognacforus.com. And there we were! Our audience became worldwide and strong and we were thrilled with the responses we received!
The ownership of our Blog has now passed to me. You can read a small paragraph about Ray at the beginning of our Blog. Beyond that Ray, for me, became a friend, a mentor for me (always correcting my sentence structure or use of certain words) and a shared with me the details of his wonderous life! Ray, I’m so happy that you came to Warrensburg and we discovered each other and created our cognacforus.com. Thank you!
To our readers, remember that should you be in Flagstaff, AZ you may want to take a drive through Crisp Hill, aptly named for Ray. You are missed, but I know for certain that you are now at peace. Much love from Patricia.
Welcome to the first installment of the Icie Chronicles! Over the past couple of months I have been so fortunate to discover Icie Florence Johnson. A prolific journalist, columnist and writer of non-fiction, Icie found her way into my life because of three library size boxes labeled Icie Johnson in the tombs of the Johnson County Historical Society here in Warrensburg. I somehow recognized her name and decided to see what those boxes contained! I will soon formally introduce Icie to you – so stay tuned! But for today, the fourth of July, I will give you one of her essays. Enjoy!
THE FORGOTTEN WOMAN
By Icie Johnson (1976)
The recent dedication of the extension to the Capitol building in Washington D.C., renewed the interest in the story of the statue on top of the dome of the original part of the building. A variety of conflicting stories are told about this woman. She does not represent an Indian. Her name is not Pocahontas. She was not given to the United States by a foreign country.
The statue was designed by Thomas Crawford, father of the American novelist, F. Marion Crawford, and the plaster model was executed by Mr. Crawford in his studio in Rome. The statue is an American product in every sense of the word, for it was created by an American, cast in an American Foundry, and paid for by American taxpayers. The statue represents the ample figure of a woman symbolizing the greatest treasure of American democracy – freedom. Her official name is the Statue of Freedom.
When Mr. Crawford had been commissioned by the United States to model a statue for the top of the Capitol dome in Washington, DC, the country was in the throes of civil strife. He visualized the dream of all Americans – that of freedom – and now union. His statue must symbolize that powerful moving spirit of a young nation determined to guide its own destiny.
In his studio, a young Crawford drew his plan for the great statue which he wanted to represent his best efforts. His statue would be a woman – a strong, robust woman like those pioneer women who had helped to win American Freedom. Like a mother, she would symbolize the eternal struggle for protection of mankind’s God-given rights. That was Mr. Crawford’s dream for his statue.
In the spring of 1856, Crawford presented his first plan for the statue, but there were criticisms. Jefferson Davis, then Secretary of War, didn’t like the liberty cap on the lady’s head and suggested a helmet instead. Crawford made those changes, and the day he completed his model, he sighed wearily and said, “Genius of America! You’re finished!” Ill and almost blind, the famous American sculptor, only forty three years old, touched the great plaster model with affection and understanding of what her symbolism would mean to young America, for her home was to be on the national capitol of the United States.
Mr. Crawford had named the statue, Armed Freedom, but she was officially named Statue of Freedom and was thus accepted by the United States government in 1857. Soon after Mr. Crawford completed his plaster model of the statue, he went to London where he died October 16, 1857.
For six months after Crawford’s death, Lady Freedom remained unclaimed in his studio in Rome. She was take in several sections aboard the “Emily Taylor” bound for New York. When the boat sprung a leak, it was necessary to put into Gibraltar for repairs. Again on the sea, the boat ran into stormy weather, and more leaks developed. This time most of the cargo had to be thrown overboard and for a time it looked as if Lady Freedom would never reach her destination. But it was finally agreed to save the statue and the crippled boat limped in Bermuda in July. The boat was then condemned and sold. For five moths Lady Freedom lay in a dusty storehouse waiting for the United States to claim her again.
In December of 1858, parts of the statue arrived aboard the boat “G. W. Horton” in New York. There had not been enough room on the vessel for the whole statue, and the other parts did not arrive in New York until later. It was March of 1859 before the last of the statuary was shipped to Washington on the schooner, “Statesman”.
When all of the portions of the statue were received in Washington, they were sent to the Clark Mills foundry located near Bladensburg, MD. Here the plaster model of the statue was to be cast in bronze but because of the conditions created by the Civil War, the work on the statue was ordered stopped in May of 1861. For another six months, Lady Freedom was the forgotten woman while Americans destroyed each other in another devastating war.
During the blackest of the war, someone got the idea that the completion of the Statue of Freedom might spur the people on to victory. So the statue was completed and this announcement was made by the architect of the Capitol Extension in November of 1862. The Statue of Freedom, which was intended as the crowning feature of the dome and was completed and moved to the grounds east of the Capitol where it was placed on a temporary pedestal in order that the public might have an opportunity to view it before it was raised to its final position.
The Statue of Freedom stands nineteen feet six inches above the dome. Its total weight is 14,985 pounds and the final cost, including the $3000 paid to Mr. Crawford for the model was $23,796.82.
The flowing draperies which adorn the great bronze woman are held at the waist by a huge broach having the letters “U.S.” which are easily read as one gazes up at the statue. A wreath, presumably an olive branch of peace, and a shield also designated with stars and bars are held in her left hand. The head of Lady Freedom is covered by a helmet encircled with stars and surrounded by a crest composed of an eagles head and an arrangement of feathers suggested by the costume of American Indian Tribes. It is these feathers that give the impression that the statue is an Indian figure and many stories have been told from generation to generation about the Indian maid, Pocahontas atop the Capitol dome. The Statue of Freedom was erected in parts, but the final date for placing the completed head and shoulders of the statue above the Capitol was December 2, 1863. It was a gala event designed by the War Department with a special order providing a national salute of thirty-five guns to be
fired from a field battery on Capitol Hill at the moment the American flag was unfurled from the top of the statue. The last gun from the salute was to be answered by a similar salute from the twelve forts which fortified the City of Washington at that time.
In spite of the war anxiety, people came in great numbers that cold December day to watch the symbol of American Freedom secured to her final place on the Capitol dome. Uneasy eyes watched the movement of the statue as it was slowly carried upward by a steam hoisting apparatus from the ground in front of the building. In twenty minutes, the three hundred feet were covered, and the head and shoulders of Lady Freedom were moved to their place and secured to the other parts of the figure.
As soon as the assembling of the statue was complete, the Stars and Stripes of the Union was unfurled over the head, and the National Salute resounded through the hills of Virginia and Maryland. This simple ceremony was said to spur the people on to more determined acts to save the Union which was still being threatened by the war between the states.
The original plaster model from which the bronze status was cast is now a museum piece in the National Museum.
An interesting word. It is an adjective meaning not eradicable; not capable of being eradicated, rooted out, or completely removed. Thinking about world developments and the current divisive culture now in the United States, I decided to look backwards a few decades and revisit the happenings I lived through and try and understand why American culture is what it is now. Because our world is made by history and because knowledge of the past offers new perspectives about the present, studying history gives us deeper insight into our lives and the lives of others. These are reasons enough to pursue it.
In 1905 George Santayana (a philosopher, essayist, poet and novelist, born in Spain, raised and educated in the US and identified himself as an American although he always retained a valid Spanish passport) was born Jorge Agustin Nicolas Ruiz de Santayana y Borras, made a speech in which he said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Winston Churchill changed the quote slightly in a speech in 1948 to the House of Commons saying, “Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it.” Being an old person, I remember the past and I have learned from it. Because our world is made by history, and because knowledge of the past offers new perspectives about the present, visiting history should give us a deeper insight in our life and the lives of others. Here is my selected recounting of history…
*1959 – SHOULD WE REALLY PLAN TO GO TO THE MOON?
*1969 – HOW SOON DO WE GET OUT OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM? (FIRST MOON LANDING, JULY 20, 1969)
*2022 – SHOULD A PRIVATE BUSINESS OWNED BY RICH GUYS BE INVOLVED WITH SPACE TRAVEL?
*1959 – SHOULD THE BLACK MAN HAVE A PLACE IN WHITE SOCIETY? (KING AND MALCOLM KILLED BLOODILY UNDER TELEVISION LIGHTS)
*1969 – SHOULD BLACK SOCIETY HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH WHITE SOCIETY?
*2022 – SHOULD WHITE PEOPLE BE CONCERNED WITH BLACKS REPLACING THE WHITE MAJORITY?
Two Kennedys, Chappaquiddick, Che, Vietnam, Biafra and Czechoslovakia. Churchill and Eisenhower, Dulles and Stevenson, Nehru, Ho, Schweitzer, MacArthur and John L. Lewis. Khrushchev, De Gaulle, Thurgood Marshall
*1959 – IS THERE ANYTHING MORE DANGEROUS THAN COMMUNISM?
*1969 – IS THERE ANYBODY MORE BORING THAN AN ANTI-COMMUNIST?
*2022 – AND NOW THERE IS SOCIALISM, A TERM MANY DO NOT DEFINE CORRECTLY.
Pope John, Radioactive Strontium, Little Rock, the Military Industrial Complex, nuclear era showdown and backdown between the United States and Russia over Cuba.
*1959 – IS THERE ANYBODY WHO THINKS WE SHOULD NOT RESIST AGGRESSORS?
*1969 – WHY NOT RESIST THE DRAFT?
*2022 – IMMIGRANTS ARE AGGRESSORS?
Kennedy, the Birchers, Bishop Pike, Gagarin, Freedom Riders, the Berlin Wall.
*1959 – SHOULD THE GOVERNMENTS MAKE CONTRACEPTIVE INFORMATION PUBLIC?
*1969 – SHOULD POT BE LEGALIZED?
*2022 – I REST MY CASE.
John Glenn, The Cuban Missile Crisis, Pope John (Pacem in Terris) Medicare
*1959 – WHICH COLLEGE ARE YOU GOING TO?
*1969 – CAN ANY COLLEGE EDUCATION BE RELEVANT?
*2022 – AGAIN, I REST MY CASE.
Berkeley, Mario Savio, North Vietnam, The Beatles, Dr. Strangelove and Becket, Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music
*1959 – WHICH POLITICAL PARTY DO YOU BELONG TO?
*1969 – ARE POLITICAL PARTIES OF ANY SIGNIFICANCE AT ALL?
*2022 – WE STILL HAVE A TWO PARTY SYSTEM WITH MANY STEMS WITHIN.
*1959 – SCHOOL SHOOTING IN THE BROX
*1969 – SCHOOL SHOOTINGS IN CHICAGO, LOS ANGELES, WINSTON SALEM, TOMAH.
“Mounting evidence that society is out of control breeds disillusionment with science”, explained Alvin Toffler, a futurist of the 1960’s, “History is a great alternative to the super industrial environment we don’t know how to live in.” Could the same be said for the super technological environment?
The way that some will live in the new world is simply by pretending that it is the old one. “When faced with a totally new situation,” Marshall McLuhan wrote in “The Medium is the Massage,” we tend always to “attach ourselves to the objects, to the flavor of the recent past. We look at the present through a rear-view mirror. We march backwards into the future.”
The draft, Hawks and Doves, Vietnam, Arab-Israeli war, Dominican Republic, France quits NATO
If you don’t believe there’s been a changing of the mental guard – think your own thoughts as have now browsed over this sketch of time tick-tocked towards today. Think your own thoughts as you browse you brain for answers…
“I live in my small home town Warrensburg, Missouri. I choose to live here after being gone for nearly 40 years. It is easy to live here. Last night coming from having cocktails with friends, I was stopped at a railroad crossing by a freight train for 18 minutes… freight trains and Amtrak are on the rails that run right through the middle of town, all day and all night long. I had my sun roof open, Leonard Bernstein’s Candide Overture was playing on my Sirius Radio, and the train crept slowly by me and I felt happy that this, truly is, as LB wrote – the best of all possible worlds…”
I wrote the above paragraph two years ago. I have been stuck on the next letter for this Blog for months – having thought of “H” words that would have been provocative but not insightful on any level – except perhaps only in my mind. So, here is Home Town, Warrensburg, Missouri…
Growing up here was simple – it was the late 1940’s so the war was over, it was the 1950’s so it was Eisenhower as President, jobs were mostly held by men in industrial or agricultural occupations or in the skilled trades. My situation was different, my Father was a Dean at our local college so I went to the College Laboratory School on the college campus instead of the public school. My Dad drove us to the college every morning and I walked home from school every day. Sometimes, I would stop at the Rexall Drug Store downtown and have a green river or I would just go directly home and my Mother would fix me a Pepsi and maybe some popcorn. We didn’t have Sesame Street or other children’s programming – well mostly because we didn’t have televisions! (Do I sound “old” now…?) And we played outside in our neighborhoods after school until we went home for dinner.
My parents often hosted dinners at our house on an inclusive basis. We had international students from around the world, we had faculty from all disciplines, and we had neighbors and other friends from the community. I was always included and learned so much about other cultures and global perspectives. Looking back, I see those events as salons – where a lot was talked about and many slides were shown when people had taken fascinating trips!
School was likely as normal as an elementary school was in the 1950’s, however there were not many of us at College Laboratory School so our classes were small. We took the four R’s, but had music, art and physical education classes every day. Those classes were held other buildings on campus and we thought nothing of walking outdoors to our classes.
We went to assemblies with the college students every Wednesday in the large auditorium the Administration Building on campus. We probably didn’t know of the folks we heard speak or perform at those assemblies but I know now that it was people such as Aga Kahn, Bennett Cerf, Bea Johnson, the Norman Luboff Choir, Eric Sevareid and others who came to campus.
I, of course, attended College High School on the campus – it was an experience certainly in the early 1960’s. John Kennedy was President and Lyndon Johnson was Vice President. We took English, History, Science and Math classes. We had a girl’s glee club and a boy’s glee club. Most of the boys played sports. We were all part of a stage performance every year, from the Nutcracker to a not so famous operetta, Love Pirates of Hawaii! We had Homecoming activities, Snow Dances, and junior/senior proms. We had a Student Council and the National Honor Society. Some were cheerleaders and some were avid Pep Club members. We had a Chess Club, and other special interest clubs to keep us busy mostly after school. Many of my classmates were the children of military personnel from the Air Force Base that is nearby. We also had classmates who came to our school from a nearby K-8 school in a nearby town. Again, there weren’t very many of us and we all seemed to get along splendidly!
And then, President Kennedy was killed. I was a senior that year and Editor of our yearbook, The Rhetorette. The day of the assassination, we were having pictures taken for that yearbook – it was a solemn day. We had closed circuit televisions in many rooms and we all gathered together and heard the announcement. It was a Friday, November 22, 1963. We couldn’t have anticipated how the United States would change in the coming years.
And then there was college – unlike you might expect, I went off to the University of Missouri my freshman year. I flunked out. This small town girl wasn’t ready for a big university, very savvy “city kids” from St. Louis and Kansas City, a French class that began at 7:30 every morning and walking miles to get there, a dormitory full of lots of girls and a huge shared bathroom. So, my sophomore year I returned to Central Missouri State College, lived at home but felt much more comfortable (and I so dislike that word) for the next four years or so. During those years I met friends who are still friends today. I finally mastered the French language, minored in French and went to school for a semester in Dijon, France. I became a Sociology major because the curriculum spoke to me. I ended up with an English degree because of all the classes I had to take to bring up my down hours. But graduate I did, finally, met my first husband, and ended up getting my MA in Sociology.
I was a hippie for sure, I learned to be a good bridge player, I loved the theater and the music that I was exposed to in college, I learned about the world, I learned about politics, I learned about law, and by the time I really got myself out into the real world I was prepared. Prepared to accept the process of learning for what it is. Growing up in a small town had its benefits certainly. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I am still friends with most of my high school classmates. Prior to the pandemic, we gathered every year for a day of friendship and talks about how lucky we were to have had our experiences together. There is one of us that still remembers all the words to Love Pirates of Hawaii….We live all over the country now, all retired from some astonishing careers, are great grandparents but still hold our home town close.
I was 50 when I returned to Warrensburg – the year Lady Diana died. After getting my PhD in Administration and Management from Southern Illinois University, I had a very successful and long career as an administrator of nonprofit, employment and training organizations and working with state and federal governments and educational institutions in the field of public policy. So, I have been back in Warrensburg for 24 years. I started my own consulting business in 1998 and have been very successful with great contracts until recently when my favorite word has become NO.
I have been very happy to be home, actually in my parent’s house that they built in 1964, around people that I have known my whole life, around so many new friends, involved in the community in so many ways, involved with the college that has become a university. Someone suggested that I am a legend. I accept that label.
When I returned though, a man that I have known my whole life asked me, “Why did you move back HERE?” I answered, “Why did you stay here?” I’m pretty sure our answers to that question are the same.
The first Broadway musical I ever saw in New York was in the summer of 1970 – Katharine Hepburn in COCO, recreating the life of the famous French designer Gabrielle Chanel. It was at the Mark Hellinger Theater, we were able to get “standing room only SRO) tickets for $5.00. The show had been sold out for months despite getting reviews that were not so favorable. The reason it was so successful of course was because everyone came to see Katharine Hepburn in her return to the stage after an absence of seventeen years. I was absolutely breathless when the big curtain went up, and there was Hepburn coming down a huge spiral staircase as the orchestra music began to swell. The first line of the show was Katharine Hepburn saying “SHIT!” She was Coco Chanel from that moment on and I was star struck and hooked!
At the time, the only thing I knew about Coco Chanel was that the perfume Chanel No 5 was my choice for fragrance. I had never thought about the person that might have designed it. So my introduction to Coco was through seeing this musical. As I have found out since, Coco Chanel had a very interesting and intriguing life. I am writing about her today on August 19, 2021 which would have been Coco’s 138th birthday!
Gabrielle Chanel was born in 1883 in a poorhouse hospice in Saumur, Maine-et-Loire, France. One of six children, her family moved to Brive-la-Gaillarde but when she was eleven years old her mother died and she was sent to an orphanage that was operated by sisters of the convent Aubazine. The orphanage was where Coco learned to sew. At eighteen, she moved to Moulins, lived in a boarding house and worked as a seamstress. She also sang in a cabaret frequented by cavalry officers. She appeared on stage as well and it was there that she adopted the name of Coco. In 1906 she moved to the spa resort town of Vichy, hoping to become a noted performer, a career that didn’t work out.
Coco returned to Moulins and met a young ex-cavalry officer named Etienne Balsan and she became his mistress. He showered her with diamonds, beautiful dresses and pearls – Coco’s introduction to wealth and prominence. In 1908 she began an affair with Captain Arthur Edward Capel, a wealthy member of the English upper class who gave Coco an apartment in Paris. She wanted to have a shop, where she would design and make dresses – the Captain made that happen for Coco and she excelled at both designing and making clothes for upper class Parisian women. The affair with Capel lasted nine years and ended when he was killed in a car accident.
Coco then reopened her shop in Paris and became a licensed milliner adding hats to her collections. Her shop at 21 rue Cambon was named Chanel Modes. She had also opened a shop in Deauville expanding her collections. She also opened a shop in Biarritz on the Cote Basque and her business began to really thrive. In 1916 she met the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia and began an affair with him. At the same time she was now registered as a couturiere and established her famous Maison de Couture in Paris.
In 1920 Coco met the Russian composer Igor Stravinsky and Sergei Diaghilev an impresario of the Ballet Russes. Now she was designing and making costumes for the ballet. Coco found herself in high society and established relationships with Pierre Werheimer, Misia Sert, Jose-Maria Sert, Luca Turin and the writer Colette. This grew into wider circles that included the highest level of British Aristocracy – Winston Churchill, the Duke of Westminster, Edward, Prince of Wales and Arthur Grosvenor who had an affair with Coco for ten years. It was said that Coco attracted her friends and acquaintances because of her genius, lethal wit, sarcasm and maniacal destructiveness the intrigued and appalled everyone! She and these aristocrats also shared a daily morphine and cocaine habit that Coco continued until her death
In 1931 Coco met Samuel Goldwyn. He offered her $1M ($75M today) to design the costumes for his stars. She went to Hollywood twice a year travelling to California from New York in her white train carriage luxuriously outfitted for her use. She designed for Gloria Swanson and Ina Clair. Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich became private clients.
By 1935 Chanel couture was a lucrative business employing 4000 people. She was being challenged for notoriety by Elsa Schiaparelli and Karinska for edgy unique designs. And then World War II began. Coco closed her shops saying that it was not a time for fashion. During the war Coco lived at the Hotel Ritz, a hotel known for being a residence for upper-echelon German military staff. In 1940 she lost control of Parfums Chanel but at the end of the war she fought to regain control of her brand. It has been said that Chanel had a good relationship with the German officers and supported their occupation and mission. However she was instrumental in securing negotiations between the Germans and the British with Winston Churchill for defections of some Germans to the British Secret Service. After the war Coco was investigated for being a Nazi sympathizer but was never found to be guilty of such activities.
In 1945 she moved to Switzerland with Baron Hans Gunther von Dincklage a former Prussian Army officer and Attorney General. Chanel was being challenged again in the fashion world by Christian Dior, Cristobal Balenciaga, Robert Piguet and Jacques Fath. She began to sell her designs in the United States and became firmly established in the couture world here.
Gabrielle Chanel died in 1971 at the Hotel Ritz where she had lived for more than 30 years leaving a legacy that still exists today! Known for the little black dress, Chanel suit and Chanel bag, she also leaves a story of her unprecedented life for all of us to enjoy. I’m so pleased that I saw that Broadway play – and I actually saw it twice. My favorite Chanel quote – “You can be gorgeous at thirty, charming at forty, and irresistible for the rest of your life”. Happy Birthday!
We are so pleased to be able to bring you a poem by Jayne Barnes Raso! Patricia has been friends with Jayne since her time spent at Southern Illinois University at Carbondale. Jayne is a kindred soul for certain. Well known for her insightful spirited poems, articles and her wonderful letters, Jayne now lives in Louisiana. This poem, Chocolate Waters is from her memories from 2009.
CHOCOLATE WATERS
What I collect and Why: Words
Because they are so delicious on the tongue
Delicate, tart, sweetly sibilant when sung
Sliding softly, bellowing stridently – Ha!
(I interject that I collect the best that I can find)
Surprises are always very welcome in my world! As I was looking at my email yesterday evening I noticed a post from David Lowenherz. David Lowenherz is one of the most notable autograph collectors in the world. His office is in midtown in New York City, very close to where I stay on my visits to the City.
A couple of years ago or so, I gathered all the autographs of famous people that I had collected over my lifetime and decided that I would try and see if they were of interest to anyone and try to sell them. I went online and looked for names of businesses or individuals that might be interested in helping me and I ran across the name of Lion Heart Autographs located in New York City.
I called David Lowenherz, the President and CEO (and owner) of Lion Heart Autographs and told him what I had and said that I would bring them to NYC if we could meet. He agreed. We met at his office and arranged some potential/possible sales of some of my autographs. He does not deal in “movie star” autographs but he was interested in some of my presidential autographs and a few others.
I enjoyed my visit to his office, it was two or three rooms with very high ceilings, on the third or fourth floor of a building on East 38th Street – complete with a doorman! The room were full of signed books, music, letters, photographs, art and lithographs that were among his collections that were being offered for sale. I was fascinated! We talked for about an hour about all kinds of things and I left knowing I made the right decision about a company I could trust with my autographs. It was a success!
I have not heard from David for awhile, really there would have been no reason to have “kept in touch”, but yesterday I received an email from him. I opened the email and it was Part 23 of Keeping Calm and Carrying On, The Corona Chronicles and was a post he made from his covid-19 retreat in Pennsylvania,
The story he wrote was about his discovery, in high school, of a little known poet named Elinor Wiley and his quest to collect signed copies of her works for his own collection. I’m fairly certain on that spring day we met in his office that we did not talk about Elinor Wiley but his email struck a cord with me because in high school I too discovered Elinor Wiley in and liked her poetry very much. So last evening I read more Elinor Wiley poems and was facinated all over again.
I’m going to share one with you, quite appropriate for those experiencing this snowy cold weather in much of the United States. Others may just imagine in your minds the scenario!
VELVET SHOES
“Let us walk in white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.
I shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,
White as a white cow’s milk,
More beautiful
Than the breast of a gull.
We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down
Upon silver fleece,
Upon Softer than these.
We shall walk in velvet shoes;
Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.”
If you enjoyed the poem, I encourage you to go and read more of her poetry. To read the story of Elinor Wiley’s life go to Wikipedia – a VERY interesting read! Thank you, once again, David Lowenherz!
Ray Crisp explores today’s very relevant topic of the Poet and the Laureate! We are all proud of the youngest Inaugural National Youth Poet Laureate, Amanda Gorman as she read The Hill We Climb last week to the world. Ray provides more Laureate information here!
What is Poetry? What is Prose? What is a Laureate? And why are these important to us? These are important topics because communication is essential to all of us for survival and these are the means by which we communicate
We usually talk and write in Prose, that every day speech that we easily understand. Prose is that every day speech written down. Now there are varieties of prose, such as a business letter, an essay or a diary entry. And the type of prose takes on different forms with different expectations of word choice, tone, usage and punctuation.
Poetry is for communication as well, but more of an emotionally based form that can convey feelings and attitudes toward someone or something. And within poetry there are many types such as a sonnet, lyric, ode, and free verse. Here again expectations for word choice, tone, usage and punctuation are needed to convey the meaning and to create perhaps an emotional response or feeling.
Poetry began many years ago because we are a story-oriented people, and many of our family and societal values and histories were communicated from generation to generation through stories told in poetic form. The rhythm and rhyme of the stories helped us to enjoy the stories as well as remember them.
And we as humans valued those the techniques, stories, and the methods so we honored those story tellers…we gave them “laurels,” praise and admiration. Thus a Laureate.
The State of Missouri, along with just about all other 50 states, honor our poets by selecting one from time to time as our Poet Laureate. Karen Craigo is this year’s Missouri Poet Laureate, and she is the fifth poet to be given that honor. Appointed by the Governor, Karen is a Springfield poet and journalist who will have the title through this year. Ms, Craigo also explores writing and publishing, and creativity on her blog, Better View of the Moon. For a complete listing of her works, including her 2018 work, Passing Through Humansville and her 2016 collection titled, No More Milk, visit the internet for complete information.
In short, what makes a poem a poem is the ability to make the reader feel something. As has already been mentioned, a poem is different in form from prose-the normal rules of writing just don’t apply. That doesn’t mean a poem can’t have form or punctuation, but it doesn’t have to. Poetry uses image to convey meaning while prose finds concrete description more effective.
In EveryDay Is Mother’s Day, Karen Craigo captures the emotion that many, if not all, of us feel from time to time. And she captures our feelings in a very direct and purposeful way, telling someone else’s story of everyday life with its uneventful happenings except for our thoughts. And in that story, each of us can see ourselves with the strong emotion created by Ms. Craigo’s words, cadence, and image.
Recently I asked a number of my smart friends to pick a letter that is the first letter of the worst word they could think of that incites an extreme reaction. I received lots of answers: “Q” – queer, “K” kike, – “N” nigger, – “G” god, – “R” republican, – “D” – democrat, – “H”- hate, and many other trigger words with serious reactionary possibilities. After thinking about it I have decided that every word that was given to me implies a FEAR on the part of those who use such terms to define something or someone they know little or nothing about.
FEAR is defined by Merriam-Webster as an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger. Most pejorative nouns are used when the user is FEARful of a person or group that they, for whatever reason, have been given information about, truthful or false information that has instilled FEAR in them. To me it implies cowardice, ignorance and outright stupidity. It implies the belief in a stereotype brandished by name calling and/or hate speech.
I am working on a future Blog about a woman named Beatrice (Bea) Johnson who was a fairly famous radio personality in the 1950’s and 1960’s – broadcasting from Kansas City, Missouri. She was well educated, very savvy and well revered with her audiences for her insightful conversations over the air waves about many topics. She relates a story about the time she took a group of women journalists to Geneva, Switzerland for a worldwide broadcasters conference and she was seated next to a journalist from Russia. She says that she was quite afraid of the gentleman because of what she knew about the relations between Russia and the United States at the time. She says that later he revealed that he was afraid of her as well! They struck up a friendship though that lasted a lifetime. Because of her encounter with him it was possible for her to take another group of women to visit Moscow and meet with Russian journalists and tour the city. They overcame their FEAR of each other by getting to know one another and persevere in their friendship.
Another Journalist, Bob Woodward has recently written a book about the administration of now President, Donald Trump. The title of the book is “FEAR”. Professor Woodward only uses the word “FEAR” twice in the text of his book as he quotes President Trump –“Real Power is fear“. Think about that – he told you who would be coming over our borders into this country, told you who they were and it perhaps made you FEARful not only of these immigrants but others not like yourself. There are hundreds of other examples such as this but this one is vivid, long-lasting and believed by too many people.
Many religions instill FEARfulness on their followers – the FEAR of God for not following the teachings and rules of their religious beliefs. The FEAR of going to hell for the same reasons. Rulers of nations instill FEAR into their minions by threatening destruction or death for not following the tenents of society as a whole. Threat of consequences for not being obedient. FEAR then makes them dependent on the rules.
With the pandemic, Covid-19 ravaging the world, there are those that do not believe the expert scientists who affirm that Covid-19 is far more deadly than any currently known disease. Many stand by their faith in that the pandemic is all in God’s plan and if it is your time to die, you will anyway. People are also FEARful of science because it is hard. It is hard to understand and is intimidating because of it. So, as is the case of President Trump, he disputes it. He said in a press conference with climate change scientific professionals, “I don’t believe the scientists” obviously because he does not understand it and he is out of his knowledge zone.
FEAR, if it rages within you, it can be debilitating. Rational thoughts are often sequestered within yourself and can stop you cold. Often those who may be around you and do not understand your FEAR, call you a “fraidy cat” or other contemptuous names, are merely revealing their lack of understanding. I recently had a Missouri State Representative call me names because I wear a mask during this time of the pandemic. His ignorance becomes quite clear.
To quote Aristotle – “He who has overcome his FEARs will truly be free” I would like to say, we, who overcome our FEARs will truly be free.
And one of the very best authors of history, John Meacham says, “We are better with hope than we are with FEAR.” I will leave you to your own discussions.
We are so pleased to be able to publish this wonderful poem by our local friend, Barb Curtis! She says that if she were to consider a vanity plate for her vehicle it would be “4EVR12.” At 12, one is capable of feeding, dressing and bathing without parental hovering. 12 brings autonomy. She and her friends were able to go to the skating rink and swimming pool by themselves, build tents over clotheslines and create talent shows in the carport! Staying in touch with her inner 12 is enriching! Barb was pruning a rose bush in her yard when this poem came to her and we are happy that it did.
AN OLD FASHIONED ROSE
For 21 of 41 years I tried to eliminate you
With hoe and shovel and ax.
Your thorny tendency to reach out
Scratching and wounding, annoyed.
But, year after year, no matter how hacked,
Your determined green branching announced that
You do not concern yourself with Bush Beauty,
But focus on the flower.
Your presence is under-appreciated, to say the least.
But your perseverance is respected.
I want credit for not resorting to poison.
It does the job, but with unknown ramifications.
When I finally surrender, because I consider stopping you
Tantamount to stopping tectonic plate movement,
I stand back and imagine another possibility.
Then, off to find a trellis, to lash
Your unruly, untamed branches full of thorns,
And embrace your inevitable blood red blossoms as gift.
It is Spring, twenty years later.
I approach you ungloved and bare armed like a
Shaman who dares to walk on hot coals.
Pruners in hand, I trepidatiously move in and out,
Clipping last year’s canes, shaping you up,
Anticipating the buds that will blossom into those
Blood red flowers of yours…Yes, you are an “Old Fashioned Rose.”
Is there hope here?
It is possible, at this later date that those I annoy on a regular basis
Might not attempt murder, might decide to embrace my unrulishness,
Might appreciate my tenacity, and allow a new bud to form?
A couple of days ago I sent a message to the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) complaining that their offering of Great Performances only airs in the middle of the night on their Kansas City, Missouri affiliate. PBS advertises Great Performances nationwide as airing at 8pm. I mused that Kansas City Public Television (KCPT) must underestimate their audience in prime time. I’m fairly certain that PBS doesn’t read my messages and could likely care less, BUT a person that I didn’t know responded to my message by asking, “Why do you say so?” I was absolutely stopped cold! First of all, that someone I didn’t know wanted to listen to why I said what I did, and secondly realized I hadn’t really thought through my post before writing it. I wrote an explanation back to him (after thinking about it for quite awhile) saying that KCPT must think their audience unsophisticated/uneducated or just not interested in the Broadway shows/concerts, the opera and other offerings of Great Performances. Someone was actually interested in listening to what I thought, someone I didn’t know. He wanted to listen to my point of view.
After some additional thought, it occurred to me that very few people are really listening to what others are saying or thinking these days. Everyone, myself included, are quite willing to snark about almost everything as if what we say, post or write is truth. That has made me furious but I have been doing it as well. From hate speech to conspiracy theories to whatever the last thing people heard on whatever media outlets they watch or listen to, there seems to be only emoticon responses. Or unfriending/blocking/or a plea to fact check but no real attempt to find out “Why do they say so?”
I think “Why do you say so” is a better response than ignoring a point of view that you don’t agree with. Or arguing about it. Or somehow just deciding that people are just on the wrong side of information. I have also decided that asking a simple question like, “Why do you say so?, and truly listening to the answer is a lost art. I have friends who are perpetual questioners, but most of the time I don’t think they really listen to the answers and have already moved on to their next sentence. Likely most of the time in our immediacy culture, real discussions never occur. The poet with a very long name, Rene Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke once said, “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, along some distant day, you will gradually, without even noticing it, happen into the answers.”
Children are probably the best at listening when it is important. They truly are little sponges wanting to learn and form their own identities. We should listen to the words wonderfully written by the great lyricist, Stephen Sondheim for his musical, Into The Woods, and be more like children when seeking information and answers, “Careful the things you say, Children will listen. Careful the things you do, Children will see and learn. Careful the tale you tell, Children will listen. Replace the word Children with People and maybe that is the answer. And we should all, every day, ask, “Why do you say so?”
Merci beaucoup to Keith from Illinois for Rilke. Merci beaucoup to Bill in Michigan who introduced me to Stephen Sondheim. And to Jacob from Georgia, Merci beaucoup for your question. A question that I now will be asking over and over! And…..
In the summer of 1965 my best friend and her mother invited me to go with them on a month long tour of Europe – I was thrilled! My parents were not so thrilled. I didn’t get to go. However, in 1967 Central Missouri State College offered a summer abroad to attend school at the Universite de Dijon in France. I guess my parents thought that it would be great if I went to Europe, supervised, and attended school. I was thrilled! I already had two semesters of college French so I wasn’t afraid of speaking the language or the coursework.
I got a passport and off we went! Several of us from CMSC and a few others from different colleges and universities in Missouri. We left in early June, on a blue Braniff airplane, and arrived in Paris. We took a very rickety and unairconditioned bus to Dijon. After nearly twenty seven long and sleepless hours, we arrived in Dijon. I don’t have much of a memory of that trip and lost an entire day upon arrival due to sleeping!
A little history – The Universite de Dijon was founded in 1722 at the request of French King Louis XV as a school of law. The sciences, arts and medicine were added in 1809 by Emperor Napoleon I. The name was changed to the Universite de Bourgogne in 1984. Located in the center of Dijon, you can imagine the grandeur and elegance of that old campus!
Our dormitory was about a mile from the actual campus, we only slept and studied there. We had our meals and classes on the actual campus. I remember arriving at my first class being excited and apprehensive at the same time. It was supposed to be a mid-level French language class. I guess the Universite de Dijon leveled their language classes differently than America. I already knew everything that was to be taught! I do remember the instructor entering the room and saying, “les Oiseaux sont dans les arbres”. and looking gleefully out the window! Monsieur whatever his name was, was going to teach us phrases and essential get-along French! He also said that there would be only one exam at the end of the class the last of August.
I never went back to class except to take that final exam!
The world was about to open up to a 20 year old girl from Missouri! I spent the next month exploring the city of Dijon – a vibrant architecturally fascinating place, museums, galleries, an artist district, cathedrals, lovely squares for gathering, fountains and yes the mustard company! I went everywhere – talked to anyone I could, drank French coffee, ate pastries, baguettes and bread on hills overlooking the city with a bottle of wine! Sometimes I had company and sometimes I was by myself – I loved it! I learned that Europeans drink most everything at room temperature – they were sure that ice would completely upset your stomach for life – but soon the places I frequented kept a few ice cubes on hand just for me!
Our group also had some preplanned excursions that I did participate in. Going to the wine country of Burgundy was one of my favorite day trips. Stellar architecture, beautiful vineyards, and I learned about wine. Though I now favor an Albarino wine from Spain, it was an excellent way to learn about how those grapes make it into a bottle and make beautiful wine. We also went to Geneva, Switzerland for a few days. Our small hotel had once been the home of Voltaire and had beautiful exquisite grounds. We were able to tour the United Nations site at the Palais des Nations. Its art deco style is fantastic – it was built to house the League of Nations in the 1930’s. There was a summit/meeting going on there but we were allowed entrance and saw most of it in action. I bought a Swiss watch in Geneva. I still have it!
A separate note – Charles de Gaulle was the President of France at this time and his relations with the United States were strained to say the least. The French people didn’t like Americans because they saw us as obstructionists to France’s rise to a first world country. Most of the time I was in France, I said I was Australian.
We also spent time in London on one of these excursions – I was entranced! We saw the Queen’s jewels, a dozen cathedrals, the private changing of the guard behind Buckingham Palace, and King Henry the II’s suit of armor. We met up with two professors from CMSC who were in London for the summer and had a wonderful all night party enjoying the pubs of the city. We stayed at the Hotel Gore (still there) and I lost my virginity in Room 40!
We spent some time in Wiesbaden, Germany too. Not my favorite country, but the trip on the Rhine was lovely.
…and then there was Paris! Not my favorite city but facinating!
It was certainly an experience! Probably not the one my parents would have expected me to have (well, maybe they did…) but it was wonderful. I did take the final exam – six hours of A! Another blue Braniff airplane ride home with memories I cherish now! Salute!
Compromise – Settlement in which each side makes concessions. Something midway. To bargain, to give and take. (Websters New World Dictionary)
I am an only child. I don’t Compromise well. My definition of Compromise is Nobody Is Happy.
I have friends who decided they wanted to get out of the snow and ice where they live for a week in January. He wanted to go to Arizona to a cattle ranch – work with the ranchers, enjoy the warm air and the ambiance of being around a group of dedicated individuals who make their living in a different way than he has ever known. She wanted to go to Florida, stay right on the beach, enjoy coffee on the lanai, take walks, enjoy the feel of her toes in the sand, read good books, dine out every evening at a beautiful seaside restaurant and basically be lazy. She didn’t want the dude ranch and he didn’t want the ocean. The Compromised and went to Chicago – a city that they hadn’t visited before. It was cold, it was snowy, it was congested. He complained about everything including the high prices of everything. She was miserable. He wouldn’t go anywhere with her so he just stayed in the hotel watching the same television shows he watches at home. Nobody Was Happy.
I have other friends who suddenly found themselves empty nesters and they seemed to have no purpose in life. They felt very estranged from each other as well. They went to a prominent couple’s therapist who assured them that many others feel as they did. She suggested that they should spend quality time together doing things that they would both enjoy. So they found themselves sitting on the sofa together, holding hands and watching television. He wanted to watch old movies and she wanted to watch the History Channel. They couldn’t agree on what to watch, so they decided that they would trade off evenings watching what each wanted to watch then it was their turn. Nobody Was Happy.
We visited friends once in a lovely city. We wanted Italian food. They wanted German food. We settled for an American steak house. Nobody Was Happy.
I don’t Compromise. I don’t settle for something that just doesn’t fit with my life. I’m not alone either – however, that being said, many people tell me that they just go along with whatever is proposed to them. They say that they just make the best of it. I don’t see any “best of it” possibilities. I’m an only child. I Am Happy.
SILENT REFLECTION WHILE SHOULDERED ON THE HIGHWAY BY HEAVY SNOW
Snow-laced trees
interweave their burdened boughs,
branches bowing in a gelid sepulcher,
stooping low with ice-encumbered touch,
enclosing the layered bands of natural pattern
within their folding trunks.
My eyes trace the reappearing forms of line
in every scale of existence.
Striations of ice lacing
a frozen latticework across my windschield.
Striations of salt tracing
tire-worn roadsides,
adorned with stalled vehicles
stopped by winter’s forcing stillness.
Striations of wrinkled skin, dry and cracking
across the back of my gripping fist,
steering wheel steadily gyrating
with the loss of speed.
Striations of slicing clouds stretched thin
like a striped sky shroud
where the sunset’s ebbing orb
defies the crucifixion of dusk.
A transparent veil of citrus is saturated gauze
failing to compress the burning colors of
the horizon’s bleeding wounds.
A seasonal slumber satiates
the roaring mechanical cacophony.
Muting the mad daily torrent,
of accelerated cityscapes
with a ceasing blanket
of softly flaking sanity.
Crystalline purity,
freezing the breathless rush of the world.
Halting metropolitan order
with silence and distance,
and a simplistic admonition from the wintertide-
To pause, to breathe, and to recognize
our inescapable acquienscence to nature’s ascendancy.
By Aaron Conklin
Aaron is the Creative Writing teacher at Warrensburg High School in Warrensburg, Missouri. Aaron says about his poem and its creation, “images of landscapes, traffic, blizzard-like conditions through a car window that has been slowed to a stop on the highway. During the forced pause from winter I was able to appreciate the beautiful patterns in everything around me. Simplistic details often overlooked when riding in the work day’s commuting stampede.” The poem also invokes a deeply held reverence for nature’s power.
We thank Janis for her wonderful and very relevant poem – we are honored to share it! Janis has degrees in History, Women’s Studies and English from the University of Central Missouri and a Master’s Degree in Library Science from the University of Missouri at Columbia. She has lived numerous places in the United States working as a Reference Librarian and an Adult Programs Librarian. Retirement brought Janis back to Warrensburg, Missouri where she is a volunteer extraordinaire and has resumed her attention to writing her poetry. She welcomes your positive waves as she returns robustly to her love of poetry! This poem is dedicated to a former resident of the Warrensburg Missouri Veteran’s Home and Master Gardner, Nan Shaw. There is purposely little punctuation in this poem so that it feels like the viewer’s eyes are scanning the garden in one long gaze. (Note: Not only are all parts of the Linden Tree edible, including the leaves, flowers, seeds, sap and bark, but an herbal tea is made from the dried flowers. And, in fact, there was a time when people believed that linden flowers were so useful in treating tremors that any individual enduring this medical condition could be cured just by sitting beneath the tree.)
Raymond Crisp has three degrees in English, Ph.D from the University of Illinois and has taught and coordinated academic English programs throughout the world. Widely published, his research focused on quality programming for Language Arts and for teachers of English. Since retirement, he has renewed his love for the arts by organizing poetry and writing conferences and symposiums to include poetry festivals and speaker forums in Kansas and Missouri. Should you be in Flagstaff, AZ you may want to take a drive through Crisp Hill, aptly named for Raymond Crisp! You can reach Ray at raycrisp@gmail.com
Patricia Smith has three degrees as well, Ph.D. in Administration and Management from Southern Illinois University at Carbondale. Her career focused on the administration and management of workforce development programming in three states. She now has her own consulting company working with mostly not-for-profit entities in the design and delivery of a wide array of public and privately funded initiatives. She has written several books of poetry, many dramatic readings and a play titled “Penguin”. She travels often to the sun and warmth of Florida and to the splendid city of New York. You can reach Patricia at pandksmith@centurylink.net
If you don’t get out of the box you’ve been raised in, you won’t understand
I know people who are strict assimilationists. To them, if you are going to be in their America, coming from somewhere else, you better quickly get yourself to be just like them. White, Christian, speak perfect English (so they can understand you) employed, healthy and on the path to citizenship. I’m guessing that they are proud of our indigenous people for not having those rules for those who crossed the ocean blue and landed in America. The term “assimilation” began to be used at that time and referred to the process of monitoring indigenous lives using non-indigenous benchmarks. The forced assimilation of native people to European-American values caused the degradation and isolation of the Native American cultures.
Merriam-Webster defines assimilation as “the process through which individuals and groups of differing heritages acquire the basic habits, attitudes and mode of life of an embracing culture.” Our culture often has not been embracing of those who came to America. Many found that coming to America was not all the thought it would be. The Irish immigrants come to mind – never mind that the Irish came to escape horrific famine – and were persecuted because of remnants of English ideas as to who should be in what was then their America.
Everyone knows of Ellis Island located east of the Island of Manhattan. But, as immigrants arrived at five major ports in the 18th and 19th centuries, New York, Baltimore, Boston, Philadelphia and New Orleans, what is not commonly known is that there were more than seventy federal immigrant entry stations in the United States at the same time.
Blacklash to immigration today comes from a rise of nationalistic populism proponnets who want no part of anyone not like themselves. Those vulnerable to believe the deception that immigrants are just plain bad people who come here to take jobs (thereby displacing Americans), bring their hoodlum gangs, rapists and thieves and want to replace Christianity need to immerse themselves in the history of our country, research their own genealogy and embrace what they will find by doing so.
We are thrilled to share a new poem with you written by our friend and local poet, Mark Pearce. Thank you Mark! (copyright 2019 Mark Pearce)
Clara (August 1856)
He’s gone, now Clara
He’s gone to the ages
‘just his symphonies to hold us
In embrace
He’s better now, Dear Clara
He’s found his rest, darling one
And we must now make our music
At a pace
It was you, Dear Clara
Who gave Robert-dear the structure
And critique of work
To fortify his score’
It was you, Dear Clara
Who stepped back, in marital blessing
To allow no shade to fall
On Schumann’s core
But you have been denied
Dearest Clara, denied of every blessing
That should come your way
And come your way some more
I will be there for you, Clara
In the task of harmonizing
For the present, for the past
And ever more
I wish I could write, Dear Clara
As tenderly as I love you
And tell all the good things for you
I will make come true
In the while, Dear Clara,
I’m reworking a theme of Robert’s
And finished, I’d very like
To dedicate to you
I’ll need assent, Dear Clara
Or I’d want it, as I require it
In composing, or conducting
Or taking breath.
In the mean, Dear Clara,
I have structured your finances
And arranged for steady income
For your rest
So you will sing, Dear Clara
Not through voice but by your keyboard
And the score and spirit
Of a woman yet fulfilled
And I would be there, Beloved Clara when
Upon that day of reckoning
We would consummate a passion
Scarce revealed
Your Beloved,
Johannes Brahms
Mark Pearce is a sixth-generation Missourian who lives in Warrensburg, MO. After a long and fascinating career with public television and public radio at the University of Central Missouri, Mark retired and began writing poetry “to ensure that his waning years would be expressive ones”! He confesses to being particularly susceptible to rhythm, development and dramatic conclusion in his works and practices a wide range of poetic styles. Organizer of the Montserrat Poetry Festival and a regular participant in the Old Drum Open Mic Series, Mark can be found on Wednesday mornings pulling weeds in the specimen garden at Turkeyfoot Prairie.
A BLOG (a truncation of the expression “weblog”) is a discussion or informational website published on the World Wide Web (www) consisting of discrete, often informal diary-style entries (posts). Posts are typically displayed in reverse order, so that the most recent post appears first, at the top of the web page. Until 2009, blogs were usually the work of a single individual, occasionally of a small group and often covered a single subject or topic. In the 2010’s, “multi-author blogs: (MAB’S) emerged, featuring the writings of multiple authors and sometimes professionally edited. MAB”s from newspaper, other media outlets, universities, think tanks, advocacy groups and similar institutions account for an increasing quantity of blog traffic. The rise of Twitter and other microblogging systems help integrate MAB’s and single author blogs into the news media. Blog can also be used as a verb, meaning to maintain or add content to the blog.
Our blog is a dual-author blog at this time. Because your authors are very new to this way of communicating, we decided to share the blog and one day we will break apart and create our own individual blogs. Ray Crisp will be blogging about various subjects that interest him and often will feature poetry from area poets with work from both children and adults. Patricia Smith will be blogging on various subjects that she likely spends too much time thinking about! We hope that you will enjoy our adventure! We have a goal of publishing twice-a-month at least to start with. We will be posting the availability of a new blog on Facebook and by email – so here we go!!
