This year is best known for
the Titanic disaster. It is also the year that my
grandfather, grandmother, with my 10-year-old dad, left the
coal mines in Pennsylvania, arriving in Sugar Creek during a
time of crisis. Since Teddy Roosevelt launched his war
on the trust, conversation around town was, What will we do
if the refinery is closed. Because it was a
possibility, and some people liked it here in the suburbs,
with a neat amusement park and no cops or politicians.
Didn't need 'em; no crime, also no laws and a school.
On May 15, a meeting was
held in the school building about the current crisis with
the ouster thing. A reporter from the Journal was
there for the action and the following article appeared in
the paper
SUGAR
CREEK TO SELL BONDS
Citizens Don't Fear the
Standard Oil Ouster
Owning to
the fact that the school board of Sugar Creek felt some
hesitancy to marketing the $12,000 bond issue voted a
month ago to build an addition to the present
schoolhouse. Because of the state's ouster of the
Standard Oil Company, a meeting of the taxpayers was
called last night. The taxpayers were unanimously in
favor of floating the bonds and building the school
addition. The oil refinery controlled by the
Standard Oil Company at Sugar Creek is the principal
industry of the village, and the school board feared that
if the state carried out its ouster proceedings against
the Standard, there would be little need of an addition to
the present school building. It was suggested that a
petition be sent to the governor requesting him not to
destroy the only industry of Sugar Creek, but this action
was not taken.
No one said,
"Let's go back to Europe."
After twenty
or so years, the earthen dam at Fairmount Park lake was
leaking. Several generations of muskrats had burrowed
into the foot of the dam and had their young ones. If
the dam broke, all of the wooden houses and business along
Sugar Creek would have ended up in the Missouri River.
A cement dam was eventually built. Pieces of it are
still there today.
In June the
greatest promo in the history of the park took place.
Robert G. "Ocean to Ocean" Fowler was given a week
to make a lot of money. He got his name by being the
first person to take off in Los Angeles, landing in
Jacksonville, Florida after 60 hours of actual flying
time. The thirty-year-old Fowler had been flying only
ten months when he came to Fairmount Park.
The machine
arrived at the park in pieces, once assembled on Sunday,
June 2, everything was ready at the athletic field, again
Roper Stadium. Everything but the wind. Without
it there wasn't enough area for the Wright Brothers-built
airplane to take off, so they pushed it to an adjoining
"meadow". It must have been a goodly
distance away, because by the time that the plane flew over
the park it was already 800 feet in the air.
After doing a
couple of 360s around the park he gained altitude and headed
west toward Kansas City, at 1500 feet and 45 MPH.
People at the park took to the high ground and were able to
watch the whole show downtown, KC being only 30,000 feet
away.
His first
encounter was with the 3,700 fans at Exposition park, where
the Kansas City Blues were locked in a duel with the
Milwaukee Brewers, both of the American Association
league. In the bottom of the 12th inning, the score
was tied 4-4. The Milwaukee pitcher, Salpnika, had
started the game many throws ago, as was the custom in those
days. There was one out and the Blues had a runner on
2nd and 3rd. Fowler and his machine, making a
pop-pop-pop noise freaked out the pitcher, and he tossed his
next pitch into the grandstand. The crowd went wild as
Rockfield, the second baseman, strolled home, winning the
game 5-4.
Soon he was
over downtown, and a crowd of 3,000 craned their necks to
see what was making the noise, Fowler tried to communicate
with the people on the ground, and they to him, but noise
from the machine prevented that.
After a
45-minute flight the frozen Fowler returned to the meadow,
only a few feet from whence he started. After warming
up, the first thing he did was to telegraph his mother in
San Francisco and inform her that he hadn't been killed yet.
He wasn't the
first aviator to fly over the business district. That
honor goes to the late C. P. Rogers, who died a few ago in
Longbeach, California, when his airplane came apart in the
high wind. Last October he was in town to accomplish
this feet. He was quoted as saying, "Downtown KC
is a dangerous place to fly because there is no place to
land in case your engine conks out." Fowler's
Wright-built plane wasn't the only one there. A second
plane, built by Glen Curtis, was also there. The two
planes differed in that the Curtis used flaps, a much better
design. At the time the Wrights and the Curtis's were
in and out of court over patent laws.
Including
Fowler, there were four pilots in his entourage, Bud Mars,
Thornwell Andrews, and Nelson Nelson, who was an Atchison,
Kansas recovering from a broken arm, 'twas a dangerous
business. The remainder of the week was spent flying
every afternoon. On Wednesday Mars took the Curtis
plane up for the first time. On Thursday, tragedy
almost struck. Andrews had the Curtis up doing bombing
runs on targets in the lake using oranges. While 1000
feet above the lake, on one of his runs, a storm/winds blew
through. The fragile machine was tossed around like a
kite, but he managed to land it just east of the athletic
field, quite a ways from where he took off, and hit a
fence. The Wright plane was also tossed around,
and had to be held by six men, after being tossed into a
tree, but not damaging it. Saturday and Sunday both
planes went to the air at the same time, doing S's and 8's,
racing and dog fighting. After this successful
engagement, Fowler flew to Omaha.
The aeroplanes
weren't the only attraction. The great Carver Horse
Show warmed the crowds up, the main attraction was a young
lady who dove a horse into a large tub of water from 40'
high. The crowds were so large that cars ran every two
or three minutes. Along the way people waiting for a
trolley had no luck. Extra cars were added, but still
they came. There was also bathing, boating, free
vaudeville, picnic grounds, German garden, music. The
Carver show was retained through the Fourth of July.
Between the
air show and the Fourth of July balloons returned.
There were also many picnics, not all were huge. On
Saturday, June 29, the Passenger Agents Association (they
were an early version of a union) had their 20th annual
picnic at Fairmount. At noon on Saturday, over 200
agents (the people who sold railroad tickets) locked their
doors to the customers for a day and headed to the park on
special trolleys.
The ladies
were already there frying chickens and other delicacies,
also plenty of liquid refreshment. Before chow, 50 picnickers
tried to ride a burrow that was tied to a big tree, but all
were thrown, some hard, and some into the flowers.
Then dinner, while being serenaded by a brass band and some
vocals. After that several speakers told them what a
great job they were doing. A baseball game was held
until all the balls were lost. Agents as far away as
Chicago, St. Louis, and Wichita were in attendance.
The Fourth at Fairmount was very popular, thanks in part to
the trouble that Forest Park was in, cash flow.
Carver's horses, along with the high-diving ladies, was
still the main attraction. Vaudeville wasn't' on the
program. Everything went pretty smooth; 35,000 crowded
the park. All-night fishing was becoming popular,
staying up all night fishing, cooking coffee over an open
fire and frying fish and bacon for breakfast. Might as
well make money at night.
A lady broke
her leg getting off the merry-go-round. She was 50
years old and had always wanted to ride one, but was
apprehensive. So on the Fourth, Mr. and Mrs. Barrett
rode out to Fairmount. To get up her nerve, she rode
the camel. He warned her, "It'll throw you sure,
Ma." She replied, "If you're scared, you
don't have to ride. Watch me." She rode the
camel three times at 5 cents per. After camel riding,
she then rode the Merry-Go-Round. After the ride
stopped, she stepped off backwards and broke her leg.
The park doc set it, it was the only accident. The siege
of Tripoli was the night attraction on the lake, along with
the usual huge fireworks display.
While the
majority of town was at the parks, on the river was where
the real action was. The steamship Saturn had been
running excursions up and down the river since spring, going
as far down-river as Cement City. On the Fourth, the
cops put an end to the orgies, gambling, drinking,
prostitution, and the "debauching of young
girls". Since the vice squad knew about the
perversions for some time, they couldn't get the county or
city courts to do anything about the situation. So
Chief of Police Griffin took it upon himself and sent two
officers down to the Main street docks, where the Saturn was
docking. There they stood by the gangplank, warning
anybody that took the excursion that day would be arrested
when the cruise was over. No one went, a large, angry
crowd did gather, and the boat tooted its horn, but did not
leave the dock. The Chief further stated that,
"The Saturn would not in the future be allowed to
operate." All this without a court order.
For a couple of months the Saturn had been plying the waters
between Kansas City and Cement City every hour on the hour.
After the
Fourth, things were copasetic until the end of August.
Forest Park had lost its lease, the owner of the property,
Mrs. I. W. King, whose husband was in the real estate
business, decided that they could make more money selling
the property in lots as the city was growing to the
east.
The fireworks
began when the Jackson County Negro Association wanted to
hold their annual picnic there. In the past, they had
been meeting at Shelby Park, which had closed. Led by
Leon Jordan and Fortune J. Weaver, the latter a real estate
dealer. The association had already handed over $1,500
as a down payment to lease the park for Negroes only.
The locals were rather angry; there were even threats to
dynamite the park. Racial tension was expected.
The Association agreed to move the picnic if Mr. J. H.
Koffler would just give them back their deposit.
Independence had offered the use of its fairgrounds.
It went to the
courts. The first judge, a Democrat, said no, but the
second judge, a Republican, said yes. So they brought
in another judge, a Democrat, but he said,
"No." But Mr. Koffler didn't want to give
back the $1,500, so the picnic went ahead without a
license. On September 30, just before Labor Day, the
cops arrested Mr. Koffler. Justice was swift in those
days, and Judge Clarence A. Burney promptly fined Mr.
Koffler $100. He said that he wanted to appeal and was
released on $17 bond. The festivities continued until September
24 without any trouble.
On October 15,
after ten years of fun, Forest Park was dismantled, and the
$195,000 worth of amusement park stuff was sold to a
carnival supply company for $5,000, some of it to live
again, some not.
This year
Fairmount Park closed after Labor Day, September 2, and all
of Kansas City Labor converged on the park. After a
parade Downtown starting at 9 in the morning. From
15th and Woodland to Grand, south to 18th, and on to 8th
Street, thousands lined the streets. The parade was
led by a platoon of police, then the firemen, followed by
the speakers in horse-drawn carriages. The Grand
Marshall of the parade, James J. Larkin, the head of Local
31 Theatrical Stage Employees Union (the stagehands),
followed by the heads of four other unions, which was
followed by three bands. Bringing up the rear were the
bartenders who would come in handy at Fairmount Park.
Once disbanded they boarded special trolleys to
Fairmount. Speeches, athletic events, along with the
other park attractions like balloons, vaudeville, etc, etc,
were enjoyed by more than 25,000 people.
Back in
Europe, the first Balkan war was a template for things to
come. The kingdoms of Montenegro, Serbia, Bulgaria,
and Greece attacked the land claimed by the declining
Ottoman Empire, i. e., Turkey. After a few weeks of
combat Macedonia and Trace were divided up by the Balkan
Alliance. In 1913 the victors would turn on each other
for the second Balkan War. The third Balkan War
would be a doozy.
Copyright © 2007 John M. Olinskey
