On January
1, 1922 there were four radio stations licensed with the
Commerce Department, headed by Secretary of the Commerce
Herbert Hoover. By the end of the year there were
almost 600. Kansas City had four, Independence one.
WPE, later
KLDS, was run by the Reorganized Latter Day Saints church.
On Sunday, June 14, Elder E. D. Moore broadcast from the
Stone Church from 8:00 to 8:45 p. m. There were only
200 receivers in Kansas City then, but the signal was heard
as far away as Ft. Worth, Green Bay, Memphis, and Boulder,
Colorado. Reverend Moore's message was "Main Street
Religion" and was well received to the point that every
Sunday evening there will be religious and gospel music
coming over the airwaves. Arthur B. Church was the
brains behind the station, and in 1927 he would change the
station to KMBC out of Kansas City. The Kansas City
Star also had a station. They broadcast live concerts
from their offices.
The third
station of importance was WHB, owned by W. M. Sweeney, also
owner of an automechanic's school. A courageous
broadcaster in a time of the Ku Klux Klan, he offered a lot
of diversity in his broadcasts. Many of the better
singing groups were African American. It was a time
when stations with only a few hundred watts could be heard
all over the USA. He broadcast African American,
Mexican, and Hawaiian talent, including Protestant and
Catholic Sunday services from various churches. Kansas
City had two other radio stations, neither of which seemed
to have much impact.
Tragedy
struck students of Sugar Creek school on May 16, when
six-year-old Augylene Detel stopped by little Alphonse
Novak's house to swing after school. Lightning struck
the tree, sending thousands of amps down the wire rope tied
to a tire, killing little Augyene instantly. Alphonse
lived, although he was left with a speech impediment that
didn't allow him to communicate well in English for the rest
of his life. Unless, of course, he thought that you
were trying to get his cans or bottles, then he spoke
perfect profanity.
The
following day was the last day of school. Sixteen
"Creekers" graduated (the nickname Sugar Creek residents had
adopted for themselves). Two won a $5 gold piece.
The Daughters of the American Revolution offered the prize
to a senior boy and girl who wrote an essay on "Why We
Salute the Flag." School let out at noon on that
Wednesday. At 2 p. m. all students, teachers, and
parents gathered at the schoolhouse and marched to Fairmount
Park for their annual picnic.
Fairmount
Park opened on May 13, a week before Electric Park.
There were fifty concessions this year, many were new.
Haley's Orchestra played in the newly-named Venetian
Ballroom, complete with a crystal ball. Large shade
trees, flowers, shrubs and many, many birds inhabited the
park. The big, new ride was the "Auto Raceway," twelve
tracks with twelve gasoline motor-driven midget autos.
New diving boards were installed on the lake, but would not
be used until "Decoration Day."
The
following Saturday Electric Park opened at 6:00 p. m.
A new ride, the 300,000 Giant Dipper, made a circuit around
the park, having sixteen big dips, some more than seventy
feet high. A new cafeteria was opened in "The Garden,"
chicken dinners were the specialty of the house.
The latest
in ladies' swim wear was finally showing the knees.
Decoration
Day at Fairmount featured Captain Hugo, who dove off a
102-foot ladder into a small net twice a day at 5 and 9 p.
m.
Motion
pictures were shown in the bandstand. It cost ten
cents to get into the park, children under 12 got in free.
There was also the back gate, that's where many of the
Creekers got in.
On June 10,
15,000 Oddfellows of Jackson and Wyandotte counties, and the
women's auxiliaries, picnicked at Fairmount Park. The
Oddfellows started in England in 1743 and crossed the big
pond in 1819 or so. They got their name because it
started as a kind of union for people with unusual trades.
They, like the Shriners, try and help the less fortunate.
A basket and blanket dinner was served at 6 p. m., followed
by a concert of the Oddfellows Jazz Band. P. A.
McIntosh announced that a "Corn Carnival" would be held by
the Oddfellows Labor Day weekend at the park.
On one day
there were eighteen separate picnics at Fairmount Park.
The bathing beach was the main draw. Manager Benjamin
said that there were 5,000 bathers every day of the week.
Some arrived at 6 o'clock in the morning to take a dip, then
cook a breakfast over the many fireplaces, wood and ice cold
water were everywhere.
On the
Fourth of July both major parks threw a party. At
Electric Park, carpenters built wooden frames for "set piece
fireworks" all the way around the perimeter of the
park. Starting with six bombs, next a grand illusion
around the water, an array of cascades and "spiners," "The
Salamander", "World in Rotation," "American Beauty Rose", "Niagra
Falls", a bell between a land battery and two ships to be
sunk, and, sadly, the "Negro Being Chased by a 20-ft
Illuminated Alligator".
Fairmount
Park was packed on the Fourth. 40,000 + watched
Fairmount's "set piece fireworks" display. People
completely circled the lake, some of them 100 feet away from
the water. 3,500 picnickers were counted by 5 p. m.
People actually stayed out of the water to enjoy the
activities on terra firma, like dancing.
The city of
Kansas City banned the sale and use of any fireworks,
because of the fires and mayhem sometimes caused by small
sticks of dynamite. That didn't stop the sale and use
of fireworks outside the Kansas City limits. This
would have included the entrance to Fairmount Park.
Only one serious injury occurred in the area and no fires, a
big change from years past.
Sam
Benjamin, manager of Fairmount Park announced that after the
Fourth, until the close of the park, there would be a
massive fireworks display every Sunday night, one thing Sam
wouldn't announce was that he was about to get a new gig.
Sam's stock rose as he thought of new ways to promote the
park. Free autos, and four Shetland ponies were given
every Wednesday in August. Acts like the dozen or so
attractive lady divers, dressed in the latest bathing suits,
lady daredevil motorcycle riders circled in a cage.
Flapper revues where girls with bobbed hair were allowed
free entrance, and cash prized were given in the ballroom
every Friday night. There was also the famous Choy
Linghe's Troop of Chinese Acrobats.
On
Thursday, August 10, the grocers held their annual picnic at
Fairmount. 25,000 grocers, their families and
freeloaders scrounged the park for the many freebies.
The water was not the place to be. No one ever left a
grocers' picnic hungry. Besides free rides and ice
cream, the Miller Automobile Company brought some free
samples for people to drive around the park. A hill
climbing exhibition was popular. There were many games
with prizes. And almost everyone received a one-pound
sack of flour. Rationed during the war, the bottom fell out
of farm prices because of the surplus of everything,
sticking the farmer with products he couldn't give away,
rendering some broke.
Labor Day
was unusually mellow, although someone called the governor a
name not in any dictionary at that time. Next year the
new Fairlyland Park will steal Sam Benjamin.
In the
1920s Kansas City, with a population of 325,000, was a small
version of Chicago, without the extreme violence. Open
saloons, prostitution, and gambling were wide open. It
was said that people would come from Chicago and St. Louis
for a sandwich because it was the only place where you could
buy a sandwich and a cold beer that was sold by a completely
nude lady for $1. The county around Kansas City, for
the most part, abhorred that kind of living.
While
Adloph Hitler was busy taking control of the Nazi Party, the
Ill Duce took control of Italy. They guy who would
bring their whole nightmare scenario to an end not of their
liking was barely elected a 38-year-old judge. Held in
the Democratic party primary, Harry Truman, now a major in
the National Guard, won by 300 votes in a race of five, with
him being the only candidate under the age of 50.
Problems arose on Election Day in Fairmount where goons were
reported to be headed to the polls in that direction, a
common practice locally. Major Miles, county sheriff,
got the word and sent two deputies to protect Fairmount
voters from the Shannon machine's treachery; the rabbits
were scared off.
Harry's
speeches were pretty much the same. "A Day's Work for
a Day's Pay," "No More Macadam Roads"... they were good for
the Romans and the early Americans, but not today, today
being 1922. It's oil and gravel. The whole
county could be paved this way on the cheap. He didn't
really like to give speeches to large groups of people.
He preferred to hop in his Dodge coup, bounce around the
county roads, and talk to the farmers. They were an
easy sale. Later, he defeated the Republicans by 3,000
votes.
The
Portland Cement Company of Kansas City built a school near
Cement City for forty children of employees. It also
had another murder.
No such
trouble in Sugar Creek. On Tuesday, August 29, the
businessmen and Standard Oil took out a full page ad in the
Independence Examiner:
SUGAR
CREEK NOW A CITY.
Comfortable Homes, Good Schools,
Up to Date Stores.
One of
Sugar Creek's first businessmen, Harry Kamensky, came here
in 1904 and still ran the oldest business in town, United
Merchandise Company. He came to America from Poland in
1896. Another old timer, who had just sold his grocery
store to his sons, was A. J. Mossie. The first thing
they did was build a new brick 35x70' building.
Sirloin steak, 30 cents a pound; chuck roast, 15 cents a
pound; 100 lbs of flour, $3.85; twelve 3-lb cans of peaches,
$2.75. F. W. Ainsworth ran the dry goods store and
post office. R. L. Bennett owned the Standard
Furniture Company: "New and Second Hand Goods Bought, Sold,
and Exchanged. Also Undertaking and Embalming."
Mrs. Rose Pitzer just sold her Standard Hotel and bought a
general store and confectionary, complete with a soda
fountain and all sorts of candies. Mate Butkovich
arrived in Sugar Creek, getting out of Europe just before
the war. He found work at the refinery, and built a
home with a grocery and meat business. The town
mechanic was R. M. Davenport. W. H. Palmer fixed
shoes. Badger Lumber Company had many stores in the
Kansas City area, one of the largest being in Sugar Creek.
Other businesses were W. H. Coleman, grocery store, Standard
State Bank, People's Hardware, and the Missouri Beverage
Company. $100,000 worth of bonds had just been
approved to hook up to the Kansas City Water District.
Independence was downstream from Standard Oil, and the
people of Sugar Creek didn't want to drink it thus they
hooked up with Kansas City.
A joke
going around Sugar Creek claimed that a man walked into town
and inquired about the price of land. "200 gallons an
acre," was the reply. The bluffs on both sides of the
Missouri river teemed with stills, hidden by the rugged
vegetation and vertical topography. City Marshal Lee
Mormon, a former employee of Standard Oil, was more
concerned with the twelve mile an hour speed limit coming
down the hill. But Lee had problems of his own.
In November his wife sued him for divorce, claiming that he
was taking more than just bribes.
In 1919
Standard Oil of Indiana began printing the Standoline
magazine. After the strike the company attempted to
deal with the many unions and employees that comprised its
many locations. Representatives were elected by
employees at all the refineries. Company men
representing the interest of Standard Oil were appointed.
Many problems were solved through this kind of arbitration.
The company agreed with almost anything reasonable, like
more showers, toilets, parking, etc.
Sports
became an obsession with many of the employees. The
many departments formed baseball teams, thus a plant league.
Basketball courts were erected on plant property. The
company furnished instruments and uniforms for a 30 piece
band. Horseshoe tournaments were played even in the
snow. Boxing was popular. Mr. Welch boxed 20
year old Pee Wee Pavola's ears. But Pee Wee would
learn, and become a force to be reckoned with. They
were touch men. Every of the Standoline included news
about what was going on with the plant, its people, and the
community, including this advice: Kansas City was no longer
safe at night. A person might walk back from KC
without a car. Baby announcements like the one which
spoke of the celebration over the birth of tiny little Matty
Butkovich, son of George, proved to everyone that Sugar
Creek was still wet.
Standoline
brought news about the many nice homes that were being
built. The Beal residence on Chicago was at one time
the nicest home in Sugar Creek. Many of the same names
appear in the publication regularly. Either they were
really popular or they were idiots.
