By Dr. Ferrell Miller
Geary County Historical Society Board Member
“Junction City Resident Lived Through Quantrill’s Raid On Lawrence”
Gaylynn Childs, retired Geary County Historical Society Museum Director, wrote an article for the local newspaper about some memories a Junction City resident had during Quantrill’s raid on Lawrence, Kansas. This is some of what was written.
During the early years of the 20th Century, the A.L. Wagenseller family ran a prosperous lumber business in Junction City. In the 1920s, Mrs. Wagenseller’s mother, Mrs. Mary Simpson, made her home with the family in the large Victorian house which is still located west of the Presbyterian Church on West 5th Street. Fortunately, her daughter, Helen Wagenseller, recorded these accounts and in 1925 and 1927 her stories were printed in the Junction City Union newspaper. This is her story.
“I had been east that summer with my two children, Will and Mamie. The trip home (to Kansas) had been long and tedious. The railroad took us only as far as Jefferson City, Missouri, then a little river steamer brought us to Quindaro, a river landing near Kansas City. From there we traveled by stage the last 38 miles to Lawrence.
During the early evening of August 20, we pulled into Lawrence, and I felt how good it was to be home, despite the hazards of war and the dangers which we knew surrounded us. One of the first things I said to my husband was a question regarding the persistent rumor that Lawrence was to be attacked by Quantrill. My husband assured me that he felt that now our position was secure, as word had been received from the governor only a few days before that the border was guarded. On the strength of that, a guard which had been keeping watch over the town each night had been disbanded and the arms sent to Lecompton, the capital of the territory.
The morning following my return, a great yell from the southeast part of town reached us. The sky was cloudless and the air very still – and the sound with accompanying thud of horses’ feet was carried with horrible directness to all parts of the little town. It was Quantrill’s signal to his men to break into little groups and scatter over the town. Immediately he aroused us all, and upon my asking my husband what the matter was his reply was ‘Don’t stop to ask questions. We must get out of here as soon as possible and get into General Lane’s cornfield’. This cornfield was a little distance back of our house. Only a few minutes sufficed for our very hasty dressing. As we were leaving the house, we passed through the dining room, and I snatched a few spoons from the old-fashioned spoon holder on the table. These spoons are all my wedding presents to survive the wreck of that day.
Mary Simpson continued: “We went quite a distance into the cornfield and remained there until 5 or 6 in the evening. There had been no time for us before leaving the house to visit the pantry, so we were there without food save what the kernels of corn provided. Our son was five years old and our little girls, not quite two, yet during all that hot summer day not even a whimper came from either of them. They too, seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation.
One of my husband’s brothers hid in a grape arbor near our home. Shortly after Quantrill’s men began their deadly work one of his groups came to the house. They discussed whether to burn the house or not, but finally left it intact. However, another squad came shortly after and ruthlessly set fire to the house. My husband’s brother, who was hidden in the arbor was armed, but as he was the only one against ten or twelve, he knew it meant death to use his gun.
About 9 o’clock we began to breathe more easily. The shooting had almost ceased, and we began to feel that the raiders had about spent themselves, when suddenly we saw a man wearing a red shirt come running toward us through the corn stalks. He proved to be a resident of Lawrence whom the rebels had fired upon as he was making his escape across a nearby ravine. His feet were all bloody from wounds and the stones he had encountered in the chase.
As we emerged from our several hiding places, despair was the sensation felt. Lawrence was not yet ten years old, but much young blood and energy had gone into its building. Already the little town promised much. And now all that fine work and effort seemed to be for naught. The business part of the town and most of the dwellings were nothing but smoldering heaps. The dead were everywhere.
There was little wailing and few tears. The occasion was beyond all that. This Lawrence raid differed from any other guerilla warfare of the Civil War. In other instances, the idea was to kill those whom they felt to be particularly guilty and to also rob. But this time the idea was destruction, not robbery, and the wholesale slaughter of all the men.”