Part 3

"Told by a resident of Carroll County, Arkansas, March, 1934. This individual credited it to Louis Haneke, who used to run the Allred Hotel in Eureka Springs. Sam Leath, secretary of the Chamber of Commerce at Eureka Springs, told an almost identical story in 1948, and showed me the remains of a shotgun which he said was used in killing the bear. Otto Ernest Rayburn wrote a story based on Leath's account. It was published in the Eureka Springs Times-Echo (April 20, 1950) and reprinted in Ozark Guide (Spring, 1951, p. 53). Rayburn says 'the twisted barrels of the old gun may be seen at the Ozark Museum,' which is on Highway 62, west of Eureka Springs. Both Leath and Rayburn give the name of the hunter as Johnny Gaskins, who killed more than two hundred bears and wrote a book (Life and Adventures of John Gaskins, Eureka Springs, Ark., 1893, pp. 113) describing his hunts in great detail. But Gaskins does not mention this adventure. Some old residents think it was Johnny Sexton who killed the bear at the 'White Elephant.' Cora Pinkley Call (in Pioneer Tales of Eureka Springs, Arkansas. 1930, p. 24) prints a photograph of Sexton with a shotgun in one hand and a wildcat in the other without any reference to the White Elephant. Constance Wagner tells the story in her novel Sycamore (1950, pp. 151-52), but doesn't mention the bear-slayer's name."

X "WATER PACKIN' DAYS"

The first settlers at Eureka Springs considered the water from the Basin Spring to be a potent agency for healing and rejuvenation. Judge J. B. Saunders, one of the first to try the water, gave this report:

"In five weeks I lost thirty-three pounds in weight and forty odd pounds during my stay, and felt that I had been fully renovated, or made new, and was as active then and now as I ever was in my life. I will also add that from the frequent bathing of my head in its waters, and the improved condition of my health, portions of my hair changed from a yellowish white to black, its original color. The color of the hair then grown was not changed, but a new crop grew out from the scalp, the color of my hair in my younger days."[15]

John Gaskins, the old bear hunter, seemed to think the water from this spring might influence the mental as well as the physical life of those who used it. He wrote:

"I want to add that I believe we are raising boys here at Eureka Springs on this pure water who will have the brains for presidents. I often tell people that I have made it possible for them to raise children here by killing the bears and other wild animals. Now in my old days I have the pleasure of seeing so many nice healthy children that I feel repaid for all that I've gone through, and sincerely hope that my efforts have not been in vain."[16]

The late Amos J. Fortner was brought to Eureka Springs by his parents in 1882. He was a young lad with his body twisted with infantile paralysis. Here is his story:

"Life in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, was almost unbelievably crude in the early days of 1882 and 1883, three or four years after the 'healing springs' were discovered by white men, and the place became a mushroom city of five or six thousand people almost overnight. No water works, no sewer system, no paved streets, no street cars and, of course, no automobiles.

"My first memories of the town that was destined to become the leading health resort of the Ozarks are of gangs of men drilling and blasting on the side of the mountain to change Spring street in the vicinity of Sweet and Harding springs. Previous to that time Sweet Spring was in a little hollow far below its present location and almost exactly underneath a high foot-bridge which spanned the ravine. The bridge permitted a short cut from the Crescent Springs district to the down-town area. Somehow they were able to locate the underground flow of water and bring it out to the present street level. Then, of course, the original Sweet Spring went bone dry. I rather believe they relocated the Harding Spring also, but I am not sure of this. So it happens that the convenient locations of some of the springs on Spring street are not entirely the work of nature.

"In after years I often saw crowds of people waiting their turns to fill their pails with the good water from Sweet, Harding and Crescent Springs. These scenes would give a new and vivid meaning to a picture on one of the cards I received at Sunday School: 'Women waiting at the well.' I would use my childish imagination and wonder if an angel was hidden in some dim corner by the bath house to 'trouble the water' so that the people who came to bathe could receive miraculous healing.

"Property values in those days were based considerably on the proximity to some good spring. Consequently the homes of the well-to-do people were not located on the hill-tops but on the lower levels where water was plentiful and easy to obtain. We poor folks lived higher up on the hill where rent was cheaper. Generally, we didn't have to pay any rent at all, but, of course, we had to carry our water a long ways and up the steep hillside.

"I recall that my brother, who had an inventive turn of mind, built a rolling water keg so that he could 'horse' the water up the mountain side and not have to carry it. My sister and I would frequently help him pull the keg up the steep places on the trail. But living that way on the very tip-top of Eureka's sun-kissed hills had its compensations. We, the poorest of the poor, did actually 'look down' on the poor rich people on the lower levels.

"Another advantage of living high up on the hill was the wonderful view. My brother some how got hold of an old Civil War telescope about three feet long and we would look through it and count the chickens in the yards on East Mountain. I would sometimes lie for hours on my stomach in our little yard and travel far away among the pines and cedars growing on the distant ridges. One time I saw a boy and girl sitting together on a distant hillside with their arms around each other and when they kissed I almost passed out for I was only seven or eight years old at the time. I saw other things through that old telescope that I should not have witnessed at my age, but let's skip that. Many happy hours did I spend with the old 'seeing eye' and I am quite sure that my passionate love for Nature stems from the beautiful things I saw through it from Crescent Hill.

"The city of Eureka Springs owes a great deal of its picturesque and rugged beauty to one man--Powell C. Clayton. He had a vigorous program of creating beauty out of a medley array of tumbledown shacks that dotted the hillsides. Of course, he made enemies with some property owners. Property values were certainly low at that time. My father bought one of the old-time houses and three city lots for $100, paying $5 down and $2 a month. Previous to that time we had lived in at least ten different houses during a five year period. Not one of these houses had a stone or cement foundation except along one edge which rested on the hillside. Usually the building was supported by spindly wood posts, the length determined by the steepness of the hillside. Some of these houses were so high from the ground that we could walk around underneath without bumping our heads. One of them had a southern exposure and it was so high off the ground that the sunshine would reach back far underneath. My mother took advantage of this spot for early spring garden, planting radishes, onions and lettuce. A little later cornfield beans were planted and trained up the posts that supported the house. That year we were eating garden vegetables some weeks earlier than any other family living in northern Arkansas.

"We had to move frequently. The house we lived in would be condemned and an official city demolition crew would tear it down. But always Mr. Clayton would tell my parents of some other house in which we could live, rent free, until it came time to tear it down, then we would move again. At one time when my father was out of town, Mr. Clayton even paid the expenses of our moving. But he was in a hurry that time. He wanted to immediately start clearing the ground for the erection of the Crescent Hotel and our shack was on the spot where the hotel was to be built. Oh how I hated to leave that hilltop!

"The lumber salvaged from the town was not wasted. Many car-loads of used lumber were shipped to western Kansas to build houses and barns for the pioneer families of that region. Many a woman, I have been told, stood at the door of her sod-shanty and wept tears of joy when she saw the 'old man' coming with a big wagon load of second-hand pine lumber from Eureka Springs.

"Why a lad of six or seven years should remember these things I will never understand but, nevertheless, they are true.

"I have always thought that the building of the street car system was a civic blunder, but I may be wrong. And I am even more positive in my opinion that the coming of the automobile age was a great calamity to Eureka Springs.... Now, wait a minute before you call me crazy!

"In 1879 the 'Healing Spring Country' was a vast uninhabited wilderness where timber wolves prowled and howled and froze the blood in the veins of their waiting victims, and foxes had their dens in the caves and crevices along the hillside. Many a 'big bad wolf' slacked his thirst at Basin Spring and perhaps cured himself of his mangy ills. (Some 'wolves' do that now, I am told.) In just two years the wild animals had to take to the bushes to make room for five thousand people who had poured in to make their homes at the springs.

"There was a reason for the spectacular growth of Eureka Springs, probably several reasons. The people believed in the water as a cure for their ailments. Practically every family had some member who had been brought back from the brink of the grave to health again through (so they thought) the 'magic power' of the healing springs.

"I feel that I owe my life to Eureka Springs! My parents took me there in 1882, my body ravaged and my spine twisted with infantile paralysis. I had lost my sense of balance to the extent that I would fall headlong if my dragging feet so much as touched a rough spot on the floor. I fell perhaps thousands of times while I was learning to walk a second time. My parents moved into a cabin in a lonely hollow not far from Basin Spring. Each day fresh water was brought from this spring for my dishpan bath. It wasn't long until I began dragging my feet along as I tried to follow my brother when he would go to the spring for water. I even began to try to climb the hillsides by holding to bushes growing there. Each day I would go a little farther up the hillside. Then a great day came!

"I heard a church bell ringing sweet and clear on the hilltop high above our home. An intense longing entered my childish heart to answer that pleading call in person. With wishful face I asked my father, 'Daddy, may I go up there?' A moment's thoughtful pause and then his answer. 'Why yes, Jesse, you may go. I think you can make it and no harm to try anyway.' So I got out all alone to climb that rugged hill. So steep the way, so painful the going that I often had to touch the ground with both my hands as though I were climbing a ladder.

"After many rests I made it to the top of the hill and entered the little unpainted church where I sat through the service. Then at the end I heard those people sing! Most of them were in Eureka Springs to keep from leaving this 'vale of tears.' They not only sang, they shouted the words:

"My heavenly home is bright and fair, I feel like traveling on! No pain nor death can enter there, I feel like traveling on...."

"If ever I have gotten religion in my entire life, it was in that very hour in the little church on the hilltop, and I was only six years old. You say a kid of that age can't 'get religion.' That's what you think. I knew the facts of life and death far better than most children of my age. My ears were sharp and I had overheard my mother and father discuss my probable death in broken tones of grief and despair. They already had six precious children sleeping in early graves scattered through the Ozark hills where they had lived. And I would be the next to go. This talk did not frighten me. I didn't care.

"But when I heard the people in that little church sing that great song of inspiration I knew that I wasn't going to die so soon and, child that I was, my courage was amazing and before the song was ended I was voicing that one line--

"I feel like traveling on...."

And I meant it, too! That's how I "got religion" at the age of six and it is with me yet at three score and ten plus. I still "feel like traveling on...!"

"Coming down the hill wasn't hard at all. I slid most of the way. And when I entered the cabin my mother's face was happier than I had ever seen it before in all my life.

"In no time at all, I was climbing all over the hills, ever eager to see what might be in the hollow just beyond. I picked huckleberries and blackberries, caught minnows in the creeks and lived the life of the average boy in the hills. If I had been taken to Eureka Springs on soft cushions and whizzed over paved highways in an automobile, I wonder if it would have been the same.

"The thing that happened to me happened to thousands both young and old during the two or three decades while Eureka Springs was at its height as a health resort. When such folks arrived in Eureka Springs over the crooked railway their 'cure' began immediately. The bumpty-bump-bump and the ceaseless sway of the old horse-drawn vehicles that met them at the depot started their livers into unprecedented activity even before they arrived to register at the Perry House or the Southern Hotel.

"Collapsible tin cups were very popular in those days and the health seekers would go from spring to spring, rest awhile in the cool shade, sample the water and argue the respective merits of Basin and Magnetic or Sweet and Crescent. They would keep on going to Dairy Spring and Grotto and some walked as far as Oil Spring to bring back a jug of water. A program of strenuous exertion like that, plus the copious drinking of pure water, induced an active patronage of the rest rooms provided at strategic points along the way and it worked wonders. Try it and see.

"As I write these lines I hear a great choir singing on the radio:

'I love Thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills, My heart with rapture thrills....'

"Gosh-all-hemlock, they're singing about old Eureka Springs."[17]

XI THE COMING OF THE RAILROAD

The "CASEY JONES" legend of railroad lore does not tie up with the turbulent history of the North Arkansas Line, but the two episodes do have a far-fetched parallel. If trouble is a weld of incident there is a connection between the two. The wreck of No. 382 of the Cannon Ball Express at Vaughn, Mississippi, on May 1, 1900 brought Casey into railroadana's hall of fame, but the North Arkansas Railroad, now the Arkansas and Ozarks Line, experienced almost continued trouble during its first 60 years of history. The ballad makers have missed a good bet in ignoring the harrowed tale of this mechanical step-child of the central Ozarks. Time will probably weave the story into a legend, but that day has not yet arrived.

The Ozark region has had many ups and downs since the "Arkansaw Traveler" tuned his fiddle in the Pope county hills. Most of the frustrations, however, were of short duration. But the North Arkansas Railroad as a problem child of industry is written large in Ozark history. Two sections of the line have been reopened for service after a tense struggle for survival. The following historical outline will explain the difficulties the line has had:

1881. The Frisco Railroad, headed toward Oklahoma and Texas, reached Seligman, Missouri, this year. Eighteen miles to the southeast was the booming resort town of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, which had been settled and named two years before. The traveling public tired of the slow stage coach service, and the local business men wanted a branch line from the Frisco to the Spa. St. Louis capital got busy and a twelve-mile line from Seligman to Beaver, Arkansas, on White River was built. It was named the Missouri and Arkansas Railroad.

1882. The road was extended six miles, from Beaver to Eureka Springs, under a different company which was organized by Powell Clayton, then a resident of Eureka Springs. The two short lines consolidated as the Eureka Springs Railway. A schedule of nine trains a day, most of them with pullman service, filled the resort town with health seekers.

1899. A company was organized to extend the road into the hill country to the south and east. It was financed by business men of Little Rock, St. Louis and New York.

1901. The line was completed to Harrison and named the St. Louis and North Arkansas Railroad.

1902. An extension was built from Harrison to Leslie giving the line a trackage of 120 miles.

1905. The road had financial difficulties which ended in a foreclosure, but the stockholders started a program of expansion, determined to keep the road and make it pay.

1909. The road was extended from Leslie to Helena on the south, and Seligman to Joplin on the north, making an interstate railroad 369 miles long.

1911. The Shops at Eureka Springs and Leslie were abandoned. Harrison put up a donation of $25,000 and the shops were located there.

1914. On August 5th there was a disastrous wreck at Tupton Ford between Joplin and Neosho when the M. & N. A. motor coach was struck by a Kansas City Southern passenger train. Forty-three people were killed and many injured. Payments made to families of the victims almost depleted the already low treasury.

1917-1919. The M. & N. A. was operated by the government during World War I.

1921. On February 1 wages of employees were reduced by 20 per cent. This was followed by a walkout which became a strike that lasted nearly two years, causing much ill feeling and hardship. On July 31, operations on the road were suspended.

1922. Service on the road was reopened under new management but they had serious difficulties in operating the line.

1927. Into the hands of the receiver again.

1935. The road was sold at auction and bought by the Kell family of Wichita Falls, Texas, for $350,000. The name was changed to the Missouri and Arkansas.

1941-42. Offices and shops at Harrison were destroyed by fire.

1945. A disastrous flood destroyed much track.

1946. On September 6 there was a walkout of employees which led to an application for the abandonment of the property.

1948. Movement was started to reorganize and resume operations.

1949. The line was purchased and reorganized. The section between Cotton Plant and Helena was revived as the Helena and Northwestern Railroad. It started operations early in the year. The trackage between Harrison, Arkansas and Seligman, Missouri became the Arkansas and Ozarks Railway. Two Diesel engines were purchased for this 65-mile line. Trains carry carload shipments only and the amount of business regulates the size and frequency of trains. The sections between Joplin and Seligman in Missouri and from Harrison to Cotton Plant have been junked.

That is a brief history of the "turbulent" North Arkansas Railroad. Few railroads in our history have taken the severe beatings this road has suffered. But the business men and farmers of the central Ozarks are determined that this section have a railroad. When abandonment was apparent in 1947-48, they arose like the embattled farmers of Concord and Lexington and began a fight that has saved the road. Now it is in a modified form with freight service only and over only a fraction of the original 369 miles of trackage, but residents of the state are well pleased with the service and the line appears to be doing well.

The best historical narrative on the North Arkansas Railway is included in Jesse Lewis Russell's history of northwest Arkansas, Behind These Ozark Hills (published in 1947). Pages 116 to 156 are devoted to the "turbulent career" of this line.

In 1901 there was great excitement when the stretch of road from Eureka Springs to Harrison was completed. People at the Spa hired rigs to drive them forty-five miles to Harrison in order to ride the first train back. It was a time for celebration and on the streets and in the shops and hotel lobbies this verse was sung:

"A rubber-tired surrey, A rubber-tired hack We're going down to Harrison To ride the Booger back."

We now have the "Booger" back and it is a pleasure to hear him comin' 'round the mountain, bell ringing, siren tooting, with car-loads of lumber, mineral ore and Eureka Springs water for the outside world.

About the time of the opening of the new Arkansas and Ozarks line, Clyde Newman of Harrison had an article in the Arkansas Gazette which gave most of the above data and some additional information.

XII THE JAMES BOYS ON PLANER HILL

Legend connects Frank and Jesse James with this locality in a humorous episode that is not mentioned in the biographies of these famous outlaws. These men sometimes rode into Arkansas and it is reported that they had an uncle who operated a tavern at the stage stop on Planer Hill, before the town of Eureka Springs was started. It is quite probable that they sometimes "put up" with their uncle when they considered it safe to do so. We have no historical records about their visits here for outlaws seldom keep diaries and prefer to keep their movements secret.

Several years ago an aged man visited Eureka Springs and asked Sam A. Leath, who was the town's leading guide, to show him to a place on the old stage trail two or three miles south of the city. Finding the spot he was looking for, just off State Highway 23, and not far from Lake Lucerne, the old man told the following story:

"'Twas in the 70's when I resigned my parish at Ozark, Arkansas, to take over a church at Pierce City, Missouri. With four other men I traveled north on the stage, which was the only transportation available at that time. My companions were strangers but congenial fellows and I thoroughly enjoyed the ride through the Boston Mountains. At this spot, just south of the stage stop, we were halted by two bandits who proved to be Jesse and Frank James. They ordered us from the coach and stripped us of our money and valuables. Placing the loot in his hat, one of the highwaymen called me aside and asked me if I were not a minister of the gospel. I answered in the affirmative.

"'Your companions are notorious gamblers,' said the bandit, 'and we have a special reason for robbing them. But with you it is different. We never take from preachers, widows, or orphans.' With these words, he poured a generous portion of the booty into my coat pocket and warned me not to return it to the gamblers. The bandits then mounted their horses and disappeared in the woods.

"There was an ominous silence among my four companions while riding to the tavern. I couldn't understand it. They made no complaint about being robbed and gave no indication of reporting the incident to the law. Even the driver of the stage seemed unconcerned about the affair.

"Upon arrival, I secured a room at the tavern for the night. As I was about to retire, I heard two men talking in an adjoining room. I recognized the voices as belonging to the two men we had encountered on the road. They were occupying the room next to me.

"'Do you suppose that man was telling the truth when he said he was a preacher?' said one of the men.

"'I think so,' replied the other, 'but to make sure we will test him out at the breakfast table in the morning.' He continued by outlining the 'third degree' they would give me.