Compiled by Betty Jane Wilson, society president
A search for January items of historic value revealed not the date of historic items, instead the date of the columnist's revelations. From the Kansas City Star dated Jan. 31, 1993, James J. Fisher, writer for the newspaper, chose the following subjects to feature:
This is about a town that changed its name because of a bug, a dog with at least two lives, hogs and high treason, and a fellow whose hair turned white overnight.
— Disparate subjects, yet wondrous ones, because they add up to something called history. First, about treason and hogs.
In 1856, the area was in dispute. On one side a bunch of South Carolinians determined that Kansas would be a slave state. On the other were abolitionists. The two sides were contentious, venting their aggressions with firearms, knives, fists, and hemp ropes hung from tree limbs.
Valley Falls, then called Grasshopper Falls, northerners probably had greater numbers than the pro-slavery crowd, but southerners had hold of local courts.
Naturally, the courts handed down a passel of indictments, not surprisingly those named in true bills were all abolitionists.
The indictments were for treason against constituted government (read pro-slavery) and hog stealing (read hog stealing) tandem charges rarely seen these days. The coupled indictments probably say a lot about what Kansas was like in those days.
Those who plot, scheme, intrigue, connive, and conspire — something second nature to abolitionists — had to eat too. And to be truthful, the free staters were known to shoot their southern neighbors' hogs and then claim the animals were 'wild.'
Those indicted were upset. They became particularly vexed when a pair of southerners named Jackson and Beeson threatened to drive abolitionists' womenfolk from the country.
The free-staters visited Jackson's home and shot him, then asked for Beeson's whereabouts. Those inside Jackson's home stayed mum although Beeson was under the now-cooling owner's bed, quaking with fear. He was not discovered but it was said later, subsequent weeks saw Beeson's hair go from dark to perfectly white.
The pro-slavery mob retaliated, riding into Grasshopper Falls Sept. 8, 1856, shouting and shooting. The able-bodied male residents of the town immediately skedaddled, leaving women, children, and old folks behind. Afterward there was some criticism of what in military terms was known as a 'retrograde movement,' but those who retreated said it was depart or die.
The raiders were not after females, the young or infirm. One of those runners was a storekepper and a leading abolitionist, William Crosby.
Crosby had a problem in fleeing — a yapping little dog. Crosby would run and the dog would follow, panting. Then Crosby would stop to catch his breath and the dog would start barking.
Crosby tried to shush the dog. No luck. He tried to kick the dog away. The dog kept barking. Then he grabbed the animal, held it under the waters of the Grasshopper River and drowned it. Or so he thought. No such luck. As Crosby hightailed it through the woods, here came the dog again. Crosby stopped to rest. The dog kept a more constant barking than before. Crosby somehow escaped. There is no record of his hair turning white.
Finally, the name Grasshopper. It was a translation from the French 'Grasshopper.' The name was never popular. The final blow came in 1874 when Colorado locusts denuded almost all standing crops in Jefferson County. The local anger was so great, a bill was proposed and passed the Kansas Legislature renaming Grasshopper Falls to Valley Falls, the river to Delaware, and the township to Delaware Township. Now that is one dislike most people can't understand. Except one for sure — William Crosby must have had feelings about yapping dogs much like those about grasshoppers, especially ones that wouldn't stay drowned.
The Valley Falls Historical Society Museum will be open at 10 a.m. Saturday, Jan. 16.
