A Brutal Price was Paid

Isaac Werner had kept a diary much of his life, and the journal incorporated into Lynda Beck Fenwick's history (published for release in coming months by the University Press of Kansas, "Prairie Bachelor, The Story of a Homesteader and the Populist Movement,") was labeled Vol. 5th.  That journal contained entries from 1870 and 1871, but was abandoned until 1884, when Isaac resumed writing daily entries.

It was in 1884 that the Medicine Lodge Bank was robbed by a surprising group of robbers at 9 a.m. during a heavy rainstorm.  Because of the early hour and the heavy rain, there were no patrons in the bank.  Only E. W. Payne, working at his desk, and the cashier, George Geppert, who was working on the monthly accounts, were present.  A description of the events was provided by Rev. Frieldly, who happened to be watching from across the street and who alerted the Medicine Lodge Marshall.

When the four robbers entered the bank and shouted to the two occupants 'put up your hands,' the bank president complied, but the cashier reached for a revolver.  Perhaps the four robbers had intended to steal the money without doing any physical harm, but outside the Marshall began firing, as well as the cashier's having reached for a gun, which resulted in gunfire that killed the cashier and wounded the bank president.

A posse quickly formed and rode in pursuit, soon joined by reinforcements.  Surrounded  by the well armed posse, the bank robbers surrendered, and the identities of the robbers was as shocking as the morning bank robbery itself.  The gang members were not only men they knew but men respected in their community.  The leader was Henry Newton Brown, the Marshal of the town of  Caldwell, and the other three robbers were Ben Wheeler, Assistant Marshall of Caldwell; William Smith, a well known cowboy who worked for the T5 Ranch, and John Wesley, another well known cowboy working for Redwell and Clark.  Marshall Brown had an early outlaw past; however, he had changed his ways to serve as a Marshal in Texas before becoming the Caldwell lawman, where he had an excellent reputation.

Ben Wheeler, the Assistant Caldwell Marshall, had a particularly good reputation, but he was believed to be the one who had killed George Geppert, and his past popular reputation made him only the more hated for what he had done.  Many among the posse wanted to hang the four men immediately, but the Sheriff refused.

They escaped the hangman's noose for only a few hours, for at the signal of 3 shots fired into the air that night, a crowd of armed men demanded the bank robbers overpowered the sheriff, and took the men.  Marshal Brown momentarily broke free and ran, but shots from many guns struck his body.  Assistant Marshal Wheeler was badly wounded before being caught, but he and the other two men were taken to a tree and hanged.  

Cashier George Geppert had died at the scene.  The bank president, E. W. Payne died the following day, at the age of 38, leaving his wife Susan and nine children.  In addition to being the bank president, he was also the owner of the local newspaper.

There were robberies and attempted robberies in Isaac Werner's community as well, which he recorded in his journal, but no one was killed in the course of those robberies.  Most of us have the impression of those early years being filled with gunfire, and the assumption that every settler had a gun.  Some men did, but the evidence from Isaac Werner's journal and his estate sale records seems to establish that he did not own a gun.

The peculiar role that guns played in that era is well shown in the Medicine Lodge Bank Robbery.  First, men who gained a reputation as killers were often hired as lawmen, believing they were well prepared to fight the lawless and to discourage those who might have otherwise attempted breaking the law.  But, what made the irony of the circumstances in the Medicine Lodge failed bank robbery is Marshal Brown's letter to his new wife during the hours the bank robbers were in jail.  "April 30, 1884.  Darling Wife:  I am in jail here.  Four of us tried to rob the bank here...I want you to come and see me as soon as you can. ...This is hard for me to write this letter, but it was all for you, my sweet wife, and for the love I have for you. ...If a mob does not kill us we will come out all right after while.  Maude, I did not shoot anyone, and did not want the others to kill anyone, but they did, and that is all there is about it.  Now, good-bye, my darling wife.  H.N. Brown." 

His letter asked her to visit him and to have her picture taken for him, and he authorized her to sell everything except his Winchester rifle, asking her to be sure to get it when she came to visit him.  He was very proud of that rifle, as it had been given to him with the following engraving:  "Presented to City Marshall (sic) H.N. Brown for valuable services rendered on behalf of the Citizens of Caldwell, Kas."  He had been right to assume someone might steal it, for someone did.  It was later found in a collection in Texas, but today it is owned by the Kansas State Historical Society in Topeka, Kansas.

Although Brown knew that the cashier had been killed and that the banker had been wounded, he had believed that although he might serve some time he would eventually be released and reunited with his wife.  Instead, he never reached his 28th birthday.  Men in Isaac's community who went to prison for their crimes were also well known, respected men.  These misguided escapades by seemingly law abiding men make sad and perplexing stories for present readers.   

Thank you to the 2006 Peace Treaty Special Edition newspaper for the published information collected from old newspapers and Peace Treaty editions, and brochures from First Bank of Medicine Lodge for the information included in this blog.

Prohibition in Isaac's Time

John St. John

The Stafford County seat of St. John, Kansas was named after John St. John.  When the citizens of the new town sought their charter, they anticipated the future quest for the county seat, and with the idea of using the governor's name for their town as a way to gain an advantage over other contenders for the seat, St. John was chosen as the town's name.  There were contenders, but the town of Stafford was the strongest challenger.  Whether the name of St. John proved decisive or the fact of the town's central location was significant to voters, St. John became the county seat.

Stronger than having a county seat named after him was John St. John's reputation for opposing liquor.  His political rallies sometimes seemed a bit like revivals, with all the quoted scripture and prohibition rants.  Motivated by Governor John St. John's leadership, Kansas voters adopted a constitutional amendment prohibiting the manufacture and sale of intoxicating beverages.  There were exceptions for medical, scientific, and industrial uses.  Many Kansans found alcohol to be good medicine!  Isaac Werner's journal contains several references to prohibition rallies, but also to public drunkenness.  Ladies who spurned drinking nevertheless utilized various health "remedies" containing alcohol for their ailments.

Carrie Nation, Credit: White Studio

John St. John is not the only Kansan known for opposition to alcohol.  In fact, Carry Nation is probably among the best know opponents.  Unlike the women who worked through the Women's Christian Temperance Union, who were also famous in their day for blaming alcohol as the cause of poverty, unemployment, and other social issues, their efforts are less well known today than the more dramatic exploits of Carry Nation.  Some WCTU ladies joined in Carry's less extreme demonstrations.

Carry used prayer--not quietly doing her praying at home or in church but rather on her knees in front of saloons, alternating prayer with singing and curses at the saloon keepers.  She had her supporters, and saloon keepers often left town rather than confronting not only Carry's antics but also the threat of prayer meetings held in front of their establishments.  Her reputation for violent action is not fiction.  She once borrowed a sledge hammer from a blacksmith and smashed a druggist's keg, rolling it into the street to pour the contents in the gutter and set the alcohol ablaze.  On another occasion she loaded her buggy with stones and attacked the bars in a neighboring town with her rocky projectiles.   

Carry Nation Home, Medicine Lodge. Credit Ammodramus

In Wichita she concealed a rod and cane, along with some large stones, beneath her cape to attack the fancy saloon in the Hotel Carey.  That assault resulted in her arrest and lodging in jail.

However, the weapon for which she is most famous is a hatchet.  When she accused a county attorney of taking bribes from saloon keepers, he sued her for slander and won the case.  Her fine was only $1, but the judgment against her for costs of the suit were $113.65, a significant amount in those times.  She paid the costs by selling souvenir hatchets.

In 1976 the Carry Nation Home in Medicine Lodge, Kansas was declared a National Historic Landmark by the National Park Service, where the public can tour her house and see items she used during her career battling alcohol. 

Was Jerry Simpson really sockless?

We Kansans know about Dodge City and the cattle drives.  We know about homesteaders, and some of us are descended from those courageous settlers.  We know about the cowboys and Indians, even if much of what we think we know comes from the movies.  But how much do we know about the late 1800s, when the progressive movement swept across the heartland.

I have shared in this blog that after the Civil War many Union soldiers came to Kansas to claim a homestead, and the legacy of those men who fought in Lincoln's army in defense of the Union partially explains why Kansas remains such a dependable Republican state.  But what is less known about Kansas history is the importance of Kansas during the populist movement.  Because Isaac B. Werner kept his journal during this period of Kansas history, I have learned a great deal.

Many of the leaders of that movement were Kansans, and several lived in or visited the communities in our region.  The Kansan I am going to share with you this week lived in Barber County, and he was a very colorful fellow.  Some even thought he might have been President had he not been born in Canada, although he came to America with his parents when he was six.  During the Civil War he served with the Illinois Volunteer Infantry, and after moving to Indiana he signed on as a deckhand on a Great Lakes steamship and rose to the position of Captain.  It was after his marriage in 1870 that he and his wife came to Kansas, eventually settling in Barber County on a ranch.  The deadly winter of 1884 killed his entire herd, and he first dipped his toe into politics, serving as sheriff in Medicine Lodge.

Like many populists, Simpson first joined the Greenback Party, then Union Labor, then through activity in the Farmers' Alliance he found his way to the People's Party.  His career as a member of the U.S. House of Representatives from Kansas included service from March of 1891 to March of 1895, and after a two year interruption, from March of 1897 to March of 1899.  He liked to portray himself as a country bumpkin, catching political opponents off guard because they had underestimated his intelligent ability.

When his service in elective office ended, he and his wife moved to New Mexico, but when he suffered a brain aneurysm he asked his wife to return to Kansas, realizing he didn't have much more time and wishing to die in Kansas.  He died in 1905 and is buried in Maple Grove Cemetery in Wichita.

But, the question asked in the title of this blog is whether he was really sockless, so I will answer that question, although the explanations for how he got the name "Sockless Jerry Simpson" vary.  Some say that Jerry mocked his well-to-do political opponent by describing his feet as 'encased in fine silk hosiery,' to which the man fired back, silk socks were better than wearing none at all.  Instead of taking offense, Jerry used the name to contrast his down-home common sense and honesty with his opponent's fancy talk and empty promises.

Another version has Jerry giving himself the name by directly pointing out that his opponent wore silk socks while he didn't wear any.  A third version claims that a newsman accused Jerry of wearing no socks and Jerry didn't deny the charge, turning the remark on his opponent by referring to his silk hose.

Exactly how he got the nickname may be uncertain, but the fact that he used it to appeal to his audiences of debt-burdened farmers to establish their common economic struggles is clearly agreed.  As a candidate, he was a good story teller with a ready wit, and if he played up his rural background by sometimes whittling in the doorways of Congress, opponents were foolish if they assumed this canny, well-read Kansan was the fool.

The answer to the title's question is "probably not," but if having you think he was sockless helped him win your vote or pass a populist bill in congress,  he didn't care a bit if you called him "Sockless Jerry."