In Search Of New Places To Go: Black Wolf

"Lost and alone on some forgotten highway
     Traveled by many, remembered by few . . . ." - John Denver

     August 7, 2011.  Sitting here on a Sunday afternoon at the Made-From-Scratch Cafe in Wilson, Kansas on a whim.  About one o'clock in the afternoon an immense craving arose in me that would not go away, an immense craving for fried chicken.  Here in North-Central Kansas that does not mean a run to the nearest Kentucky Fried Chicken; no, it meant a run to the nearest local eatery known for their Sunday fried chicken buffet.  In this case that meant the Made-From-Scratch Cafe in Wilson.

     The 16 miles from Lucas down to Wilson is never a chore, not when you get to drive the Post Rock Scenic Byway around Wilson Reservoir, arguably the prettiest lake in the state.  Today there was no one in the car to argue with me and my personal estimation of the drive held up once again.    

      I got here at the Made-From-Scratch after the Sunday church-is-out lunch crowd to find plenty of seats available and that a fresh batch of chicken had just hit the buffet counter.  The waitress recognized me this time around - she still doesn't know my name, but apparently I'm now considered "a regular."  She refills my Dr. Pepper without needless chatter as I tackle my second plate of buffet.  Ten kinds of homemade pie is listed for today, the last being peanut butter.  And homemade ice cream is scribbled along the side of the pie menu.

     I pay the check and waddle out, almost all cravings almost satisfied.  I yield up the last of my cash for a cokefloat at the Shake Shack and then contemplate the turn north back to Lucas and home.  Home, where yardwork and housework and then yet more work indexing my latest book are all beckoning.

     No.

     Maybe it was the fact that for once temperature was still in the high 80s and not 107.  Maybe it was the "8 Wonders" Kansas Sampler Foundation t-shirt I was wearing. 

     Turn right.

     Whatever it was, that little voice inside my head suddenly made perfect sense and I did turn right, down the sand road past the city cemetery and on, south where I have never been before.

1:11pm.  I'm down some sandy county road now south and east of Wilson, lost but never truly.  The road signs at every intersection would give me a hint, but I never look; I don't want to.  I'm just following the road and that little voice, which then whispers the immortal words of Tolkien back to me:

"The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say."

     Yep.  Tolkien would have been a Kansas Explorer.  Tolkien would have Dared to Do Dirt.

     I pass an old building.  WHOA!  I screech to a halt - as best one can on a sand road - and get out the camera.

     It's just nice for once to see a great old native stone building, no doubt over a century old, having been restored and being used for modern purposes.  And a Dakota Sandstone building to boot, which is still fascinating to me, having grown up in limestone country.  I drive on.

    

1:21PM.  Guy Noir is taking on bedbugs in Manhattan on the radio.  I'm heading south on a great little-used lane, my fourth one in the last 15 minutes.  The first petered out into a dead end as I approached the Smoky Hill River.  Undaunted, I backtracked and headed east to the next one.  That one also petered out just as I approached the river.  The wise old saw Fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you passed through my head as yes, I backtracked and again headed east to the next one.  That wise old saw didn't say a word about the third time.  And this road too petered out as well.

     I'm sure that by now most folks would have thrown in the towel and headed on east down the (shudder) blacktop and found a main road to try.  I look down at my 8 Wonders t-shirt for inspiration and swear that I can see a hidden message running upside down in the "8": WWMD. 

     What Would Marci Do?

    

    Silly question.  I know full well what Marci Penner, the head of the Kansas Sampler Foundation would do.  I backtrack and head east yet again.  A sign emerges.  Holyrood 16 miles it reads, pointing south.  I cross the river on this new sand road, bound for Holyrood. 

     There are those people outside of Kansas that probably think being bound for Hollywood would be much more fun and rewarding.  I've spoken to folk living in Holyrood before and they've assured me that while their small town does not yet have the same glamorous mystique that Hollywood enjoys, they are indeed working on it.  And that it good enough for a Kansas explorer like me.

 Large tree holding up/knocking down a two-story native sandstone farmhouse long abandoned.

Another abandoned farmstead found along the way.  Wonderful old barn/outbuilding.

    

     1:32PM.  Lost in the wilds of Ellsworth County.  The road to Holyrood suddenly ends in a T-insection, with no signage to dictate which way to head now for the town.  I turn east and race up and down hills, crossing creek after creek.  In the distance I can see the grain elevators of Black Wolf and then Ellsworth itself beckoning.  Maybe, the little voice whispers.

A native limestone farmhouse with an ambitious and intriguing frame addition!

     My eastern sand road turns north and then winds on east, hugging the southern edge of the Smoky Hill River Valley.  In just a few minutes I'm passing the Greenwood Cemetery on the outskirts of Ellsworth, where I pause a moment at the side of the road next to the grave of Vincent B. Osborne, namesake for the county of Osborne here in Kansas.  This year marks the 140th year since the county was officially organized, so a moment of respect to Vincent is most appropriate. 

The grave of Vincent B. Osborne, for whom Osborne and Osborne County, Kansas was named.

     Entering Ellsworth I am still amazed at how well they have restored the downtown area, putting in new sidewalks and period streetlights.  It makes for a very inviting atmosphere.  My eyes are drawn to the stark remains of the Ellsworth County Reporter building, which suffered a devasting fire not long ago.  I cannot even imagine the idea of trying to write about your own weekly newspaper being the top news story for the week as it was when the fire occurred, let alone figuring how to get a paper out in the first place.  Yet they did, and they are still doing so in a temporary headquarters just down the street.  Enterprising Kansans worthy of the name.

     1:58PM.  Reluctantly I take the blacktop west out of Ellsworth.  At least Old 40 is officially a county road, though that does little to soothe the Explorer purest in me.  Then the grain elevator that is Black  Wolf once again beckons.   

    

     I've never been to Black Wolf.

    

     Oh, I've thought about it.  Lots of times.  I've lost track of how many times over how many years I've driven on the blacktop past the beckoning elevator and never took the time to stop and visit.  Black Wolf.  Just the name should be enough for anyone to want to stop and visit.  Black Wolf.  What a great name for a small town.  Not for a large city, no; but a small town, sure.  Now, granted that Black Wolf aspires right now just to become even a small town, but still a great name.

     So I drive off onto the sand road and happily slide into town.  Not much left; two houses, one abandoned, one occupied; and the tall white grain elevator with the name BLACKWOLF all run together on its sides.  If you know what to look for you can discern other building and house formations.  Black Wolf was never large, but then most legendary locations rarely are.

 Black Wolf has its own website - www.blackwolfkansas.com.  The site yields many interesting facts on the town, including that in 1910 the population was reported to be 100.  Photographed here (and courtesy of blackwolf.com) is the native sandstone Black Wolf Store, which burned in 1997 and was subsequently removed. 

Also from the website is this 1991 photograph of the Black Wolf Bank, which is also now just a memory. 

On the southern edge of Black Wolf the Smoky Hill River flows lazily to the east.  This summer's intense heat surely has had a play in the river's obvious lack of water in its channel.  However, if you are a sandbar fan, this summer is for you!

"Gold is just a windy Kansas wheat field

        Blue, just a Kansas summer sky." - John Denver

     2:30PM.  My historic pilgrimage to Black Wolf concluded, I head north on real dirt roads and then west, past milo fields and ruins of stone farm houses, purposely knocked down to avoid extra taxes.  My wanderlust is slowly fading and the little voice has not come back.  Still not sure exactly where I am, after a few miles I re-enter Wilson to my surprise and latch onto the byway and then home.  As the square grain elevator iconic to Lucas looms in the distance I contemplate how easy it is around here to just get away for a short time before plunging back into the demanding world.  We of Kansas are indeed blessed.  And know how to make great fried chicken.

Eventually Getting Around To Paying Tribute To The Namesake of Osborne County, Kansas - July 10, 2010

     So as you drive southwest through Ellsworth, Kansas on Kansas State Highway 14 you pass on through the downtown and cross the bridge over the Smoky Hill River and as the highway curves to the left (true south) you look on your right for the first gravel road heading west. 

     Got that?  Good.  'Cause it's a whole lot harder than it sounds.

     There used to be a sign at this intersection denoting a cemetery down that particular gravel road with an arrow indicating the direction to take to it.  For some reason it is no longer there.

     There used to be a sign in the southeast corner of the cemetery denoting its name and giving its hours of operation and the speed limit for driving it.  For some reason it is no longer there.

     There used to be a nice fence all along the southern edge of the cemetery separating it from the gravel road.  For some reason it is no longer there.

     I tried Google Earth and then several Ellsworth County, Kansas websites to determine the name of this cemetery.  Okay, so ten years ago I knew its name, but in the interim it is no longer coming to mind.  No luck with the Internet; not one of these sites named this particular cemetery.  They name every other cemetery in Ellsworth County, Kansas, but for some reason not this particular one.

     So I sent out an email to "The Cowboy," Jim Gray, who knows more of the cowboy history of Kansas and especially Ellsworth County in his little finger than any number of historical societies put together.  Sure enough, in about an hour he emails back that this is the Ellsworth Cemetery, or, as some locals now call it, the Old Ellsworth Cemetery.

     Boy, I feel better.

                                 The (Old) Ellsworth Cemetery

So on this particular sunny Kansas Saturday afternoon while walking around the Ellsworth Cemetery I discovered several handcarved tombstones that were amazing in their condition, considering their age.

Okay, so I got off the point a bit as to why I was there.  Just next to the westernmost turn-in to the cemetery one can find the following grave:

The tombsone of Vincent B. Osborne.  Note the error in spelling his name.

   Although nearly a third of Kansas' counties bear the names of men who were Civil War officers, only two privates have been thus honored. One of them was Vincent B. Osborne, who served as a Kansas volunteer soldier for three and a half years, was twice wounded, and had a leg amputated in 1865.  Osborne County, Kansas is named after him.  The other county named for a private is Rooks for Private John C. Rooks. Two counties have been named for noncommissioned officers: Ness, for Corporal Noah V. Ness, and Harper, for Sergeant Marion Harper.

     Nothing is known of Osborne's early life, except that he was born March 4, 1839, in Hampden County, Massachusetts. He was 22 years old when he enlisted in the Civil War in July 1861 in the Second Kansas Infantry, at Clinton, Missouri. He must then have lived in Missouri, for he suggests that his life would have been in jeopardy had he been captured by Missouri rebels.

     One month after joining the army, Private Osborne was wounded in the thigh during the battle of Wilson's Creek (August 10, 1861), and was hospitalized for almost six months in St. Louis. Before he recovered, the Second Kansas infantry had been mustered out of service. Osborne re-enlisted, along with other veterans of this short-lived regiment, in the Second Kansas cavalry which was being organized in the early part of 1862. He was mustered in at Leavenworth on February 19, and assigned to Company A, commanded by his former captain, Samuel J. Crawford.

     Between March and September, 1862, Osborne's, company rode more than 1,500 miles on escort duty, traveling from Fort Riley over military roads and the Santa Fe Trail to Fort Union, New Mexico, and back.

     Returning to the regiment in the fall, Company A fought in a number of skirmishes and several important engagements, as the Second Kansas took part in a campaign against the rebel forces of Generals Marmaduke and Hindman, in Missouri and Arkansas.  Osborne describes, at some length, the battles of Old Fort Wayne (October 22), Cane Hill (November 28) and Prairie Grove (December 7).

     In the early part of 1863 Osborne was a hospital attendant at Fayetteville, Arkansas, and at Fort Scott. During the rest of the year, and in 1864, he was on detached duty much of the time, serving as messenger at district headquarters, Fort Smith, Arkansas, in the latter year.

     On January 16, 1865, he left Fort Smith, on board the Annie Jacobs, to rejoin his regiment.  Next day, at Joy's Ford, rebels shelled the steamboat and forced it aground. During the firing Osborne was severely wounded in the leg while helping to tie up the boat. Two days later, at Clarksville, Arkansas, his leg was amputated.  When he left the hospital six months later, the war was over.

     In 1866 he came to Kansas, having been appointed sutler at Fort Harker [today's city of Kanopolis, Kansas] by Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, upon the recommendation of Governor Samuel J. Crawford, who had been Osborne's company commander.  In 1867 he settled in the near-by frontier town of Ellsworth. On June 22 of that year Governor Crawford appointed him a special commissioner (along wth Ira S. Clark and John H. Edwards ) to organize Ellsworth County.

     That same year another county to the north and west was organized and named for Vincent B. Osborne. It was also in 1871 that Osborne was elected to the state legislature from Ellsworth County, serving during the session of 1872.

     He married Nellie V. (Henry) Whitney, widow of Sheriff C. B. Whitney who was killed in 1873. Their daughter Katie, born in 1877, died the same year.

     Osborne was highly regarded by the people of his county. When he was admitted to the bar (by the district court) in October, 1875, the Ellsworth Reporter recalled his fine war record, noted that a county and city had been named for him, and stated that he ". . . is today probably one of the most popular men in the county."

     During the 1870s he held several local offices, being a justice of the peace in 1872-1873, probate judge from 1873-1879, and township trustee for several years. At the time of his death he was city clerk, probate judge, and president of the newly-organized Ellsworth County Agricultural and Mechanical Association.  He died on December 1, 1879, at the age of 40. 

     "According to the [family] tale, one dark night he tripped on a hole in the wooden sidewalk near his home. Somewhat enraged, he got himself a hammer to repair the sidewalk but in the dark he managed to pound his thumb instead of the board.   Result: blood poisoning." - Great-granddaughter Linda Blain.

     Perhaps the oddest thing about the life of Vincent B. Osborne was that he never set foot in his namesake county, despite living only sixty miles from it at the time of his death.   Despite that fact, Osborne County has always been proud to be named for such an illustrious individual.  Take well care of his eternal sleep, Ellsworth County.