 Jeremy and Tina Ämick pause for a photo during their stay at Oceans Allure in Cancún. A spontaneous decision to exchange a planned trip to Germany for Mexico proved to be exactly the change of scenery, and attitude, they needed. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick For several months, my wife, Tina, and I had been planning a summer trip to Germany. The itinerary was taking shape, the anticipation was building, and we looked forward to revisiting a country that has long fascinated us. But as the departure date approached, we realized what we truly needed wasn't another busy sightseeing adventure. We needed sunshine, warm ocean breezes, and a chance to simply relax. So, we traded Germany for Cancún. As Jimmy Buffett famously sang in Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes, "If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane." While he celebrated the healing power of tropical destinations, another line perfectly captured our experience: a true "change in latitudes" brought about a dramatic "change in attitudes." Within a day of arriving in Mexico, the pressures of work, deadlines, and everyday responsibilities seemed to melt away beneath the Caribbean sun. Our journey began on an early Wednesday morning with a flight from Columbia Regional Airport to Chicago before continuing south to Cancún. After landing, we boarded a shuttle for the 45-minute ride to Oceans Allure, a relatively new beachfront resort nestled along Mexico's beautiful Caribbean coastline. The first thing that struck us was the heat. Cancún in early July doesn't merely welcome visitors with warm weather but embraces them with tropical intensity. Fortunately, every few steps offered another opportunity to cool off, whether by dipping into one of the resort's pools or enjoying the constant breeze coming off the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea. Oceans Allure proved to be everything we had hoped for. The accommodations were comfortable, the grounds beautifully maintained, and the staff consistently friendly and attentive. Meals ranged from casual poolside fare to elegant evening dining, and every day seemed to offer another opportunity to sample caffeinated drinks, tropical fruits, and authentic Mexican cuisine. Perhaps the greatest luxury wasn't found in the restaurants or the pools, however. It was simply having nowhere we had to be. Our days settled into a pleasant rhythm of leisurely breakfasts, walks to the beach, relaxing by the water, reading, and visiting with other vacationers, something that often becomes a casualty of busy schedules back home. It reminded us that sometimes the best vacations aren't built around elaborate itineraries but around the freedom to do very little at all. One unique aspect of our trip was spending America's 250th Independence Day outside the United States. While we were hundreds of miles from home, many of the resort employees surprised us by offering cheerful wishes of "Happy Independence Day." Their thoughtfulness made us feel unexpectedly connected to home while enjoying another country. That evening, we watched an impressive fireworks display launched from a neighboring resort. Against the backdrop of the Caribbean Sea, the colorful explosions reflected across the area, creating a memorable conclusion to the holiday. The festive atmosphere throughout the resort was heightened even further by soccer fever. Guests and employees alike eagerly followed Mexico's national team, and conversations throughout the resort frequently turned to the match against England. Whether gathered around televisions in lounges or discussing the game while serving meals, there was an unmistakable sense of national pride and excitement that added another layer to the vacation experience. As wonderful as our stay had been, Monday eventually arrived, and it was time to head home … or so we thought. Before leaving for the Cancún airport, we discovered our scheduled flight to Chicago had been delayed indefinitely. Like thousands of travelers every summer, we suddenly found ourselves navigating the unpredictable world of airline logistics. Fortunately, our travel agent quickly located another option. Instead of flying through Chicago, we would travel to Charlotte, North Carolina, and connect there for the final leg to Columbia. The flight itself went smoothly, even arriving in Charlotte a few minutes ahead of schedule. Unfortunately, that's where our good fortune ended. Our aircraft remained parked on the runway for more than an hour and a half before passengers were finally allowed to disembark. Later, I learned the delay reflected the interconnected nature of modern air travel. Construction affecting runways in California, fuel-related issues in Boston, and severe weather along portions of the East Coast had combined to create a cascading series of delays that rippled throughout the airline system. By the time we reached the terminal, retrieved our luggage, cleared Customs, rechecked our bags, passed through TSA security once again, and hurried toward our departure gate, our flight to Columbia had already left. The airline did the right thing by providing us with a hotel voucher since the next available flight wouldn't depart until the following evening. There was only one small problem. Our luggage continued its own journey while we began ours without it. After checking into the hotel, we took an Uber to a nearby Walgreens to purchase necessities. Tina then demonstrated the kind of practical thinking that makes travel partnerships successful by ordering fresh clothes from Walmart, which were delivered to our hotel the following morning. Since we unexpectedly found ourselves with an entire day to spend in Charlotte, we decided to make the most of it by visiting the NASCAR Hall of Fame. Neither of us would consider ourselves devoted racing fans, yet we found the museum surprisingly engaging. Interactive exhibits explained the engineering, strategy, and personalities that have shaped stock car racing for generations. One of the highlights was seeing a full-size replica of Lightning McQueen from Pixar's Cars films, which brought out the child in nearly every visitor. As someone with the last name of Amick, I was especially pleased to discover displays recognizing racers Bill Amick and Lyndon Amick for their accomplishments in the sport. While no close family connection has ever been established, it was still enjoyable to see the Amick name prominently represented within one of auto racing's premier museums. Finally, on Tuesday evening, we boarded our flight to Columbia without incident. After landing, it was only about a 40-minute drive home, which was a welcome contrast after nearly two days of unexpected travel complications. Looking back, the delayed flights and missed connections have already become part of the story rather than the frustration. Travel has a way of reminding us that not everything unfolds according to plan. Sometimes the most memorable experiences arise from detours we never anticipated. Most importantly, the trip gave Tina and me something increasingly valuable in today's fast-paced world: uninterrupted time together. We returned to get some rest and reunite with our beloved Miniature Schnauzer, Riker, while carrying memories that extended well beyond beautiful beaches and ocean views. The late Jimmy Buffett had it right. Sometimes all it takes is a change in latitudes to bring about a much-needed change in attitudes. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.”  Sunset settles over the entrance fountain at Oceans Allure. Warm Caribbean evenings, tropical breezes and spectacular sunsets became a welcome escape from the routines and responsibilities waiting back home. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick  An airline delay unexpectedly gave Jeremy and Tina an extra day in Charlotte, where they visited the NASCAR Hall of Fame. One highlight was this full-size replica of Lightning McQueen from Pixar's Cars, along with exhibits honoring accomplished racers Bill Amick and Lyndon Amick. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick
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 Randles Court and Coffee Shop are shown during the 1960s, when the property remained a popular stop along U.S. Highway 54. By this time, the complex had evolved beyond its origins as Boots Cottage Court and included a coffee shop, motel accommodations, and a laundromat that served both travelers and local residents. The property continued to benefit from Lake of the Ozarks tourism during the postwar travel boom, helping establish Randles Court as one of Eldon's best-known roadside landmarks. Courtesy of Randles Court Editorial note: This is the final of two articles about the history of Randles Court in Eldon. When Lloyd and Helen Boots divorced in 1947, it marked the end of one chapter in the history of Boots Cottage Court and the beginning of another. On May 15, 1947, the Eldon Advertiser published a legal notice stating that Helen Boots had resumed her maiden name, Helen Randles, by order of the Miller County Circuit Court. Around the same time, the landmark motel along Highway 54 became known as Randles Court. Although Lloyd Boots would remarry, develop additional motel properties, operate a drive-in restaurant in Iowa and eventually settle in Marshall, Missouri, Helen remained in Eldon and continued operating the business they had built together. A 1954 marriage announcement published in the Eldon Advertiser confirmed her status as owner of the property. Reporting on her marriage to Kenneth C. Rains of Grand Island, Nebraska, the newspaper described Helen as "the owner of Randles Court in Eldon which was opened in 1931." The statement reflected more than ownership. It highlighted Helen's role in guiding the motel through the postwar tourism boom while America was changing rapidly. The years following World War II witnessed an explosion in automobile ownership and family vacations. The Lake of the Ozarks continued attracting visitors from across the Midwest, and Highway 54 remained one of the primary routes serving the region. Randles Court benefited from the growth. Travelers heading to the lake found comfortable accommodations, personal service and a familiar roadside landmark. The property evolved beyond the original cottage court and became known for both lodging and dining. The Randles Coffee Shop and Restaurant became a popular stop for travelers and local residents alike. Together, the coffee shop and motel formed a recognizable destination for those entering Eldon from the north on Highway 54. The business prospered during an era when family-owned motor courts dominated American travel. Yet change was inevitable. A fire on Dec. 20, 1962, damaged three units at Randles Court. The blaze was confined primarily to attic areas and several rooms, but the newspaper coverage provided an important glimpse into the property's ownership history. Robert Keasler of Keasler Associates, Inc., told the Eldon Advertiser that his company now owned and managed the court. In previous years, ownership had passed from Helen and Kenneth Rains. In Kenneth Rains' obituary, it was noted that he and Helen moved from Eldon to Springfield in 1964, where they operated the Cloud Drift Motel. The obituary noted that they "formerly had Randles Court here." The years that followed remain somewhat murky. According to Jennifer Hart, there were several owners during roughly the next decade before the property entered what would become one of its longest ownership periods. "My husband's family bought it in 1973," Hart explained. "There were some different owners over about a ten-year period before my husband's aunt and uncle bought it." Those relatives were Chester and Donna Presta. The Prestas arrived in Eldon during a period of significant change in American travel. The interstate highway system was transforming the nation. Chain motels increasingly dominated the lodging industry and independently owned roadside courts were disappearing. Somehow, Randles Court managed to weather these difficult times. The Prestas operated the property for more than four decades, preserving a landmark that had already become part of Eldon's identity. While many similar properties were demolished or modernized beyond recognition, Randles Court retained much of its historic character. But the motel's history was not without challenges. Highway 54 changed dramatically. The two-lane road that once carried a steady stream of tourists past the motel was widened, expanded and rerouted. The roadside attraction that had once depended upon passing motorists no longer occupied the same strategic position it enjoyed during the era of Lloyd Boots and Helen Randles. After Chester Presta died and Donna continued operating the property, the motel remained a familiar landmark along what had become Business 54. When Donna died in 2011, the property was slated to be sold. The next chapter began with a family connection. Jeremy Hart had long been familiar with the property through his relationship to the Prestas. Jennifer Hart had worked with the business and understood both its history and potential. "We bought it in 2017 and it needed a lot of repair and maintenance," Jennifer recalled. The timing could hardly have been worse. Just days before the scheduled closing, a fire destroyed the restaurant building and damaged portions of the motel. Many prospective buyers would have walked away but the Harts moved forward. Rather than viewing the aging property as a liability, they saw an opportunity to preserve one of Missouri's surviving motor courts. Then another disaster struck. In May 2019, a tornado tore through Eldon, damaging the motel, destroying windows, damaging roofs and toppling the iconic neon sign. Repair costs exceeded $200,000. Once again, the Harts refused to give up. Their efforts focused not merely on repairing the property but on preserving its history. One example is found in Room 10, known today as the Jackson Bray Room. Bray worked at the service station that once formed part of the original Boots Cottage Court complex, while his future wife worked in the café. According to Jennifer Hart, the two met while working there, creating a personal connection that remains part of the property's story. The restoration effort continues room by room. "Six rooms are completely restored and operational and restored in an antique, vintage style," Hart said. "There are 15 rooms in the front. In the back there are four rooms in what we call the villa that have kitchenettes, TVs and are more modern." The work remains ongoing and Jennifer Hart explained that the effort represents more than operating a business. "This place brings me a lot of joy," she said. "I love seeing the property get restored but it takes a lot of money to cover insurance and property taxes, which means rooms need to be rented to pay for it all. But we have a growing list of people coming to stay here and as long as that is the case, we'll keep doing this." Her words highlight challenges facing historic properties throughout America. Unlike museums, places such as Randles Court must continue functioning as businesses while preserving the past. Every occupied room helps maintain the buildings, preserve the neon sign and ensure that future generations can experience a piece of Missouri's roadside heritage. Today, the highway travelers once relied upon has changed. The roadside attraction that flourished during the era of two-lane roads, service stations and family cafés has largely disappeared. What remains is the memory. Thanks to the efforts of Jeremy and Jennifer Hart, that memory is still alive. Nearly a century after Lloyd Boots recognized the promise of a new lake and a growing highway system, Randles Court continues to welcome guests. Through fires, ownership changes, highway realignments, economic shifts and natural disasters, the historic motor court has endured. Randles Court stands today not simply as an old motel, but as a living reminder of the people, businesses and dreams that helped shape Missouri's highway history. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the upcoming historical compilation “Voices of the Moreau.”  The restored Randles Court neon sign stands as a reminder of the golden age of American highway travel. Originally erected during the property's mid-century years, the sign greeted generations of motorists traveling U.S. Highway 54 on their way to and from the Lake of the Ozarks. Damaged by a tornado in 2019, the landmark was carefully restored by owners Jeremy and Jennifer Hart as part of their ongoing effort to preserve one of Missouri's oldest surviving motor courts. Courtesy of Randles Court  Rose and Lawrence Jackson pose outside the tourist court along U.S. Highway 54 in Eldon during the 1930s. The couple worked in the café and service station associated with the tourist court. Following the loss of his Bagnell garage in a 1931 fire, Lloyd Boots recognized the tourism potential created by the newly formed Lake of the Ozarks, developing what became Boots Cottage Court. The business expanded to include a service station, café, tavern, and tourist cabins. Courtesy of Randles Court Editorial note: This is the first of two articles about the history of Randles Court in Eldon. The fascinating story of Randles Court began not with a motel, but with a fire. In March 1931, a blaze destroyed Lloyd Boots' garage in Bagnell, a community experiencing dramatic change from the construction of Bagnell Dam. When many business owners might choose to rebuild and continue their operations, Boots chose a different path. A later account published by the Tipton Times recalled that after losing his garage, Boots began hauling cobblestones to Eldon in 1931 to construct a service station. The Lake Sun Leader later reported that he "sought refuge in Eldon" and began constructing a service station and motel. The businessman recognized the opportunity being created by the newly formed Lake of the Ozarks. The decision proved remarkably farsighted. The completion of Bagnell Dam and the creation of Lake of the Ozarks transformed central Missouri. Thousands of visitors began traveling to the region to fish, boat and vacation. U.S. Highway 54 emerged as one of the principal routes serving the lake area, and Eldon became a gateway community for travelers headed south. Boots’ vision was that the future belonged to automobile travelers. And rather than rebuilding in Bagnell, he positioned himself along Highway 54 in Eldon, where motorists would need fuel, food and lodging. What began as a service station soon evolved into a much larger enterprise. The November 26, 1931, edition of the Eldon Advertiser reported the marriage of Helen Randles of Poplar Bluff and Lloyd Boots of Eldon. The newspaper noted that the couple would make their home in Eldon, where Lloyd was associated with his father's Super Service Oil Station. The newlyweds quickly became part of Eldon's growing business community. By 1933, Lloyd Boots was identified as proprietor of Boots Super-Service Station. The station served motorists traveling through central Missouri during the rapid expansion of automobile travel. The operation soon expanded beyond fuel sales. A July 4, 1935, article in the Eldon Advertiser reported that Boots had purchased the Lloyd Blackburn restaurant located in the east section of Boots Super Service Station. More significantly, the newspaper noted that he would operate the restaurant in connection with his service station and "modern cabins." The brief announcement reveals that by the summer of 1935, Boots had already assembled the essential components of a successful roadside business. Travelers could purchase gasoline, enjoy a meal and spend the night in modern tourist accommodations without leaving the property. Another newspaper article published on Sept. 26, 1935, reported a burglary at Boots Tavern. Although the story focused on the theft of approximately $30, it also revealed that the tavern operated in conjunction with the service station. Together, the service station, restaurant, tavern and cabins formed a complete roadside destination for motorists traveling Highway 54. The timing could hardly have been better since only a few years earlier, Bagnell Dam had created the Lake of the Ozarks and generated a tourism boom throughout central Missouri. Families increasingly traveled by automobile, and Eldon occupied a strategic location along one of the primary routes leading to the lake. Perhaps the most revealing glimpse into the growth of the business appeared in the April 22, 1937, edition of the Eldon Advertiser. At a time when much of the nation remained mired in the Great Depression, the newspaper reported that Lloyd Boots was excavating for four additional cabins at his property on U.S. Highway 54 and Mill Street. The article noted that the new units would be "larger and better than the others" and would be "strictly modern with private shower bath." The expansion demonstrated both confidence and foresight. While many Americans struggled through economic hardship, Boots invested in modern accommodations designed to attract travelers. Newspaper accounts from the same year reported that the property offered 14 rental rooms in addition to a private apartment occupied by the Boots family. By the late 1930s, the business had become a substantial roadside enterprise. Boots employed managers to oversee various aspects of the operation, allowing him to focus on expansion and development. The property included a service station, restaurant, tavern, lodging facilities and family living quarters. It was far more than a simple tourist camp. In December 1938, the Eldon Advertiser reported that Lloyd Boots had erected a large neon sign bearing the words "Lloyd A. Boots Cottage Court." The newspaper also described the business as an "excellent cottage camp." The glowing sign represented more than an advertisement. Across America, neon had become a symbol of the highway age. Long before GPS and interstate exits, travelers often chose their lodging based upon what they could see from the road. The new sign announced that Boots Cottage Court had become one of the region's premier roadside destinations. The property's reputation soon extended far beyond Missouri. On Aug. 31, 1939, the Eldon Advertiser reported that Otis Hicks and his wife from Prescott, Arizona, stayed at Boots Cottage Court while visiting relatives in Eldon. According to the newspaper, Mrs. Hicks owned 30 cabins in Arizona's San Jose Valley and was therefore familiar with the lodging business. After her stay, she reportedly remarked that the Boots Cottages and their service were "the best they had found between Arizona and Missouri." The same year, Lloyd Boots was elected president of the Eldon Lions Club, reflecting his growing stature as both a businessman and community leader. By the eve of World War II, Boots Cottage Court had become a well-known stop for travelers heading to and from Lake the Ozarks. The story of Boots Cottage Court also carries a fascinating Route 66 connection. Lloyd's brother, Arthur Boots, would later establish the famous Boots Court Motel in Carthage along Route 66. Although the two businesses served different highways, they reflected the same entrepreneurial spirit and commitment to serving America's growing population of automobile travelers. By the end of the 1930s, Lloyd and Helen Boots had built one of central Missouri's most successful roadside enterprises. Their service station, tavern, restaurant and modern cottage court represented the changing face of American travel. However, there was another chapter to be written. Following their divorce, Helen resumed her maiden name, Randles, in 1947. Around the same time, Boots Cottage Court became Randles Court, ushering in a new era for one of Highway 54's most recognizable landmarks. The motel Lloyd Boots created would continue serving travelers for decades to come, even as ownership changed and the American road trip evolved. The story of Randles Court, however, was only beginning. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the upcoming historical compilation “Voices of the Moreau.”  This vintage postcard depicts Randles Court and Coffee Shop along U.S. Highway 54 in Eldon during the property's heyday as a roadside destination. Originally established as Boots Cottage Court in 1931, the motor court became Randles Court after Helen Randles assumed ownership following her divorce from Lloyd Boots. For years, the motel and coffee shop welcomed travelers heading to and from the Lake of the Ozarks, becoming a familiar landmark during the golden age of automobile travel. Courtesy of Randles Court  Brig. Gen. Francis Marion Cockrell is pictured during the Civil War, when he commanded Missouri troops in some of the conflict’s fiercest campaigns, including Vicksburg and Franklin. Wounded multiple times, he later transitioned from battlefield leadership to a distinguished 30-year career in the U.S. Senate. This image, dating to the 1860s, reflects the early military chapter of a life that would later shape Missouri’s political legacy. Library of Congress, Brady-Handy Collection (public domain) Few Missourians have traveled a path as complex and consequential as Francis Marion Cockrell. His experiences became part of a life spanning the divisions of the Civil War and the reconciliation that followed, rising from Confederate general to one of Missouri’s longest-serving United States senators. Born on Oct. 1, 1834, near Warrensburg in Johnson County, Missouri, Cockrell came of age in a state deeply divided in the years leading up to the Civil War while his education began in a one-room log schoolhouse. The son of a county sheriff, he later pursued an education at Chapel Hill College before studying law and entering practice in his hometown. By 1861, however, the nation—and Missouri—stood at a crossroads. When war came, Cockrell joined the Confederacy, organizing a company of pro-Southern militia and entering service as a captain. Rapidly rising through the ranks, within a year he had was promoted to colonel. By July 1863, following the brutal Vicksburg Campaign, he was elevated to brigadier general. Cockrell earned a reputation as one of the Confederacy’s most capable field commanders. His leadership during the western campaigns brought him distinction, but the war came at a heavy cost. At the Battle of Franklin in 1864, his brigade suffered devastating losses. Years later, he wrote, “I lost two-thirds… this was by far the fiercest and bloodiest… battle I have ever been in.” Wounded multiple times and captured near the war’s end in 1865, Cockrell returned to Missouri to rebuild both his career and his place in a nation seeking reconciliation. Unlike many former Confederate officers, Cockrell transitioned successfully into public life during Reconstruction. He worked as an attorney and in 1874, was elected to the United States Senate, beginning a remarkable 30-year tenure from 1875 to 1905. His election reflected the changing political landscape of post-war Missouri. As historian Edwin C. Reynolds noted in Missouri: A History of the Crossroads State, “The Assembly elected Francis M. Cockrell over Schurz for the United States Senate. The Republicans were divided in this balloting and the Democrats united in the choice of a former Confederate general.” While in Washington, Cockrell became known not as a firebrand, but as a steady and respected legislator. He served on major committees, including Appropriations, where he influenced federal spending and policy. His extensive Senate career also placed him at the center of national debates at the turn of the century. During the lead-up to the Spanish-American War, Cockrell aligned with those urging stronger American support for Cuban rebels. Historian Duane Meyer, in The Heritage of Missouri: A History, wrote, “In Washington, Missouri's congressmen reflected by their actions the feelings of many of their constituents. Both Senator Cockrell and Senator Vest urged the immediate recognition of the rebel government in Cuba, and joined their Democratic associates in castigating Republican President McKinley, whom they felt to be acting too slowly to assist the rebels.” His public service extended beyond the Senate. After leaving office in 1905, Cockrell continued to serve in federal roles, including an appointment to the Interstate Commerce Commission by Theodore Roosevelt. It was a career that reflected a broader national pattern of reintegrating former Confederate leaders into positions of influence in a reunited nation. Part of his legacy also extended into his family. The christening of the battleship USS Missouri (BB-11) gave the Cockrell name a place in a moment of national pride. Reporting on the launch at Newport News, the Virginian-Pilot wrote on Dec. 29, 1901, “The battleship Missouri, designed with her sister ships, the Ohio and the Maine, to be the fastest and most powerful of the heaviest type of fighting craft afloat, was launched at Newport News yesterday....” The paper added that “....Miss Marion Cockrell, daughter of Senator Francis M. Cockrell, of Missouri, and one of the acknowledged belles of the nation's capital, swung the bottle of Missouri wine against the massive prow of the Marine giant....” Closer to home, Cockrell’s name nearly became permanently tied to Missouri’s military history in another way. Years later, when plans emerged for a military training installation in southwest Missouri, his name was among those considered. The Carthage Evening Press reported on Aug. 6, 1901, “The Neosho army camp may be named Camp Cockrell, for Senator Francis Marion Cockrell, of Warrensburg, according to dispatches from Washington. The two Missouri senators, Bennett Champ Clark and Harry S. Truman have recommended that name to the War Department.” Even though the installation would ultimately be named Camp Crowder, the consideration itself reflects the enduring prominence of Cockrell’s name in Missouri’s military and political circles. Throughout his life, Cockrell remained closely tied to Missouri. Though he spent decades in Washington, his identity was rooted in the state where he was born, practiced law and first rose to prominence. He died on Dec. 13, 1915, in Washington, D.C., closing the chapter on a life that had bridged one of the most turbulent periods in American history. In reflecting on his life, the Kansas City Star shared a quote made by Cockrell prior to his death: “My heart is back there in Missouri, and when I die I want my resting place to be in that grand old state. It won't make any difference to the dead, but I will have my friends around me.” Francis Marion Cockrell’s story is one of transformation. He was a soldier who fought for a cause that was ultimately defeated yet later became a national leader in the reunited United States. His journey symbolizes the complicated legacy of the Civil War and the generations that followed, including men who carried the scars of conflict but helped shape the country’s future. From the battlefields of Vicksburg and Franklin to the halls of the U.S. Senate, Cockrell’s life traced the arc of a divided nation finding its way forward. And in that journey, from war to governance and from Missouri soil to national leadership, his legacy remains as one of the state’s most significant and complex historical figures. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.” More than baseball - “Secco” Brockman was a Small-Town Star in Missouri’s Golden Age of Baseball6/26/2026  August F. “Secco” Brockman of Concordia, Missouri, shown in his playing days, was regarded as a gifted all-around baseball player—equally effective as a pitcher, slugger and fielder. A standout during the golden age of small-town baseball in the early 1900s, Brockman later remained active in the game as an umpire and coach, while also serving his community through business, music and civic leadership. Courtesy of Beverly (Tising) Meyer In the early twentieth century, before radios brought distant voices into farmhouses and professional sports became a national spectacle, baseball thrived in small-town America. On summer afternoons, communities gathered around dusty diamonds to watch neighbors and friends compete for pride as much as victory. In central Missouri, few players embodied that era more than August F. “Secco” Brockman.
Born June 5, 1876, in Concordia, Brockman grew up in a town shaped by German heritage and Lutheran tradition. His father, a German immigrant, was a skilled carpenter who settled in the community and raised a family that included four sons and one daughter, though one son died in infancy. Like many children of immigrant families, Brockman’s early life was grounded in hard work, faith and civic responsibility—values that would later define his role on and off the baseball field. From a young age, Brockman displayed uncommon athletic ability, particularly in baseball. The game offered him and other local boys a chance to test themselves and bring recognition to their hometowns. For Brockman, baseball was not merely a pastime but a calling. Newspaper accounts from the era consistently described him as a gifted all-around player—equally capable as a pitcher, slugger and fielder. Small-town baseball teams in the early 1900s were the heartbeat of local identity. Victories were celebrated as community achievements, while standout players became local heroes. Brockman quickly emerged as one of Concordia’s brightest stars, anchoring the hometown team with a combination of control on the mound and confidence at the plate. On June 14, 1906, The Concordian chronicled one of Brockman’s most memorable performances. “The Concordia Team put it over the Blums at Blums Park, Kansas City, Kans., Sunday afternoon, shutting that team out…,” the paper reported. Of Brockman’s pitching, it added, “‘Secco’ was in fine shape and the Blums couldn’t do a thing to his curves.” The account captured not just a victory, but the pride carried home by a small town whose representative had bested a strong opponent on their turf. Brockman’s reputation soon extended beyond Concordia. He later played for teams in California and Jefferson City, facing increasingly competitive lineups and larger crowds. On August 27, 1908, the California Democrat recounted a road victory in Sedalia. “The California baseball team went to Sedalia Sunday and met the strong Clinton team at Liberty Park and before a crowd of about 750 people annihilated them to the tune of 7 to 5,” the paper reported. Once again, Brockman stood at the center of the story: “Secco Brockman had the game well in hand at all times and only once was in a tight place….” Such performances underscore how vital baseball was to rural and small-city life in Missouri. Games were social events, drawing hundreds of spectators and serving as gathering points for towns otherwise separated by miles of farmland. Players like Brockman became ambassadors of their communities, carrying local pride onto every field they entered. Brockman’s playing career came to an abrupt end in 1909 after a serious injury sustained while playing in Jefferson City. The Daily Post reported on July 19 of that year, “Secco Brockman, who suffered a dislocation of his left knee at Ruwart Park yesterday afternoon, returned last night to his home in Concordia, Mo. His limb was set by Dr. McDonald and he is able to be out on crutches.” With that injury, one of central Missouri’s most reliable athletes was forced to step away from competitive play. Yet Brockman’s connection to baseball did not end there. Back in Concordia, he remained deeply involved in the sport by umpiring games and coaching younger players, passing along both skill and sportsmanship to the next generation. His continued presence ensured that baseball remained a vibrant part of the town’s culture long after his own playing days had ended. On Christmas Day, Dec. 25, 1897, he married Ophelia Kruse, and together they raised a son and a daughter. Professionally, Brockman operated a wholesale poultry and egg business, from which he retired in 1957. He also served as president of the Concordia Bank for more than seventy years, a remarkable tenure that speaks to the trust he earned within the community. Music was another important thread in Brockman’s life. At just 11 years old, he played bass drum in the Concordia Municipal Band, later switching to snare drum. The band performed at concerts, picnics and local events, reinforcing the town’s sense of shared identity. In 1910, the band achieved statewide recognition by winning first prize at the Missouri State Fair in Sedalia. Brockman went on to serve as president of the band for several decades, guiding its activities much as he once guided baseball teams on the field. His public service extended to local government as well, including time spent on the city council. August F. “Secco” Brockman died on April 23, 1960, at the age of 83. He is buried in the cemetery of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Concordia, the town that shaped him and that he, in turn, helped shape for more than eight decades. In observation of his legacy, it is impossible to separate the man from the era he represented. He belonged to a time when baseball diamonds doubled as community stages and when local heroes earned their reputations not through contracts or headlines, but through steady excellence and service. During that golden age of small-town baseball, Secco Brockman stood tall—on the mound, in the bandstand and in the life of Concordia itself. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.”  Ralph Sylvester Harvey is shown here in his baseball uniform during his early years in Eldon, Missouri, where he played first base on a successful local team. Born in Miller County in 1883, Harvey later built a career in business, from mercantile work in Eldon to a wholesale grocery operation in Tulsa and real estate ventures in California. His life reflected a broader American journey shaped by enterprise, service and westward migration. Courtesy of Beverly Tising Meyer Ralph Sylvester Harvey lived a life defined both by opportunities and mobility. It evolved from a journey that began in rural Miller County, Missouri, and extended westward to California, shaped by family enterprises, public service and community involvement.
Ralph Sylvester Harvey was born on Jan. 13, 1883, in Miller County, the son of Robert S. Harvey, a man whose name would become closely associated with business and banking in Eldon. Growing up in a region where agriculture and commerce intertwined, Ralph was raised in an environment that valued hard work and entrepreneurial spirit. His father’s reputation in the community was firmly established. As the Eldon Advertiser noted on Jan. 20, 1938, “Robert S. Harvey, for many years one of the most influential and the man of the greatest financial interests in the county, died at his home in Pomona, Calif., Tuesday morning at 5:30 o'clock.” The paper further recalled that “Mr. Harvey founded the Bank of Eldon September 20, 1894, and continued as president of the institution 38 years….” Beyond banking, Robert S. Harvey operated successful mercantile businesses in Eldon, contributing to the city’s commercial growth during a period of expansion. His influence extended into community life as well, including a lasting contribution to local recreation. After relocating to California later in life, he donated an eight-acre tract of land to the city of Eldon for use as a baseball park, which was an enduring reflection of his affinity for the game. Ralph Harvey grew up in this environment of enterprise and civic engagement, and like many young men of his generation, he embraced both work and recreation. Baseball, in particular, played an important role in his youth in addition to being an interest of his father’s. The Eldon Advertiser captured one snapshot of his involvement on Aug. 17, 1905, noting, “The following is the regular lineup of the Eldon team. In the last seven games, they have made 100 runs to their opponent’s 19. Will Brockman, Captain, Lloyd Tising, Pitcher, Joe Starling, Catcher, Ralph Harvey, 1st Base….” By 1902, Harvey, who had attended the University of Missouri in Columbia, had begun establishing himself in business. That year, he purchased an interest in the firm of N.E. Harvey and Company in Eldon. The company dealt in agricultural and transportation goods like plows, John Deere buggies and Studebaker wagons. His involvement in the business community quickly extended beyond commerce. In 1905, he helped organize the Eldon Fire Department, demonstrating a commitment to public service, and was elected assistant chief the same year. But by the end of the decade, Harvey’s life was already beginning to shift. In 1909, he married Norah Penn, a union noted in the Eldon Advertiser on Nov. 18 of that year. “The marriage of Ralph S. Harvey to Miss Nora Penn takes place at the bride's home in Kansas City this morning at 8 o'clock,” the newspaper reported. “Miss Penn was one of the teachers in the Eldon Public School last season and proved herself to be an excellent young lady of refinement.” That same year, Harvey sold his interest in the mercantile business, marking a turning point in both his personal and professional life. By 1910, the couple had relocated to Oklahoma, part of a broader migration as Americans sought new opportunities beyond their home communities. Harvey’s time in Oklahoma proved to be an important chapter in his career. As later noted in the Progress-Bulletin of Pomona, California, on May 3, 1954, “He … moved to Tulsa, Okla., where for a number of years he operated a wholesale grocery business.” His service extended beyond business as the same account noted that “During World War I and until after the armistice, he served as a Red Cross volunteer field worker at Camp Sheridan, Chillicothe, Ohio.” In that role, Harvey contributed to the war effort not as a soldier, but as a civilian volunteer supporting troops during a critical period in American history. Following the war, Harvey moved his family further west. In 1919, he relocated to California, eventually settling in Pomona, a city that was experiencing rapid growth as part of Southern California’s expanding economy. There, he entered into partnership with his brother, Bert Harvey, forming Harvey Brothers Real Estate and Investments Company. The firm positioned the brothers within one of the most dynamic sectors of the California economy at the time, as real estate development accompanied population growth across the region. For several years, he was also a stockholder and vice president of the Orange Belt Emporium, continuing his long association with commercial enterprise. Yet, as in Missouri, his life in California was not defined solely by business. He remained active in civic life, particularly through his involvement in the Pomona Chapter of the American Red Cross and the Chamber of Commerce. Harvey’s personal life also underwent change over the years. He and his first wife, Norah, had one son. After her death in 1938, he remarried in 1941, taking Lina L. Davis as his second wife and continuing his life in Pomona. Meanwhile, his father, Robert S. Harvey, had also relocated to California in his later years, closing the geographic circle between Missouri and the West Coast for the family. Though they had left Eldon, their influence and contributions there—particularly in banking, commerce and community life—remained part of the town’s history. Ralph Sylvester Harvey died in Pomona, California, on May 3, 1954, at the age of 71. His life had spanned a period of remarkable transformation in American society, witnessing the rural economy of late 19th-century Missouri transition into the urban and commercial expansion of mid-20th-century California. His was a life of movement, adaptation and continuity, spanning the baseball fields of Eldon to business ventures in Oklahoma and California. The journey of Harvey was not simply that of a single individual, but a reflection of opportunity that often lay just beyond the horizon and those willing to pursue it. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.” Faith and Fairness - World War II veteran's legacy defined by ministry, education and equal rights6/21/2026  David O. Shipley served as a U.S. Navy coxswain during World War II after being inducted into the service in 1943. While stationed at Naval Air Station Pensacola, Fla., he challenged racial segregation on the base and completed educational coursework that inspired his lifelong pursuit of higher education and ministry. Courtesy of Douglas Shipley. The late Dr. David O. Shipley was known by many to be a man of faith, choosing to dedicate his life and energy to the ministry. This calling required focus and the pursuit of an education, much of which was inspired by a lieutenant who Shipley encountered while serving in a segregated environment during World War II. “My father talked about his (military) service in general terms,” said Shipley’s youngest son, Douglas, “such as where he was stationed and some of the things that he did. He was quite an influential and inspirational person,” he added. Born in Tipton, Missouri, in 1925, Shipley was raised in the world of Jim Crow laws and segregation, attending the all-Black Harrison School where his father was a teacher and principal. But in September 1943, before he was able to complete his high school education, the 18-year-old Shipley was inducted into the U.S. Navy at California, Missouri, then traveled to Great Lakes, Illinois, to complete his basic training. “In the early months of the war, the Navy Department designated Great Lakes as the site for training African Americans in boot camp, as well as Navy specialties,” noted an article found on the Navy’s website. However, the article further noted that this training was “completely segregated,” as was much of the country at the time. The experience Shipley encountered was not unique. During World War II, African Americans served in a segregated Navy where opportunities for advancement were often limited. Thousands of Black sailors answered their nation's call to service, yet many trained, worked and lived in separate facilities from their white counterparts. The conditions they faced reflected the racial divisions that existed throughout much of American society during the era. Following his initial training in Illinois, Shipley was sent to the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, Florida, and, according to his Naval Training Course Certificate, trained as a coxswain. It was here, the document informs, he learned to operate 63-foot crash boats that remained on standby, prepared to respond to situations involving aircraft accidents or vessels in distress. The time he spent in the southern community would not be free of concerns related to racial discrimination and segregation; instead, Shipley felt compelled to stand up against the injustices he encountered on the base. “In the mess hall, white military men sat on one side, Negroes on the other,” wrote Shipley in his book Neither Black Nor White: The Whole Church for the Broken World. He added, “A friend and I stationed ourselves inside the door and entreated our men to mix it up.” Months later, noted Shipley’s son Douglas, “My father was apparently doing something between two boats and got his feet caught between them, crushing all ten of his toes. He could not walk for a while and spent several weeks recovering in the base hospital.” During his time in medical treatment, Shipley returned to the mess hall where he and a friend had previously confronted the issue of segregation. Upon noticing the situation had not changed, Shipley noted that he “refused to accept it, sitting alone in the white section to eat my meals.” “I continued my one-man protest until honorably discharged from the service after the war,” he wrote. Years before the modern Civil Rights Movement gained national attention, Shipley's actions represented a quiet but determined challenge to racial segregation. Though he never considered himself a political activist, his refusal to accept discriminatory treatment demonstrated a willingness to stand against injustice despite the social realities of the 1940s. Though Shipley was drafted into the service prior to graduating from high school, a lieutenant named Courtney Smith demonstrated an interest in his future and “insisted that (he) should finish (his) high school work through the United States Armed Forces Institute.” The officer also recommended that Shipley continue his studies after the war, explained the veteran in an article published in the Aug. 30, 1979, edition of The Tipton Times. Earning his GED, the inspiration provided by this naval officer would have long-term implications, especially in the years following Shipley’s discharge. When leaving the service in May 1946, he not only continued his educational pursuits but also went on to fulfill a lifelong wish. “My dad always wanted to be a minister,” said Douglas. “When he was a little boy, he had his younger sister sit in a chair while he would preach to her.” In 1948, Shipley graduated from Lincoln Junior College in Kansas City with an associate degree and received his license to preach the same year. He then enrolled at Baker University in Baldwin, Kansas, earning his bachelor’s degree in 1950 and being ordained that same year. He later completed both bachelor’s and master’s degrees in divinity from Central Theological Seminary in Kansas City and eventually earned a doctorate of ministry in marriage and family counseling from Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Pennsylvania. Throughout his ministry, Shipley emphasized racial reconciliation, Christian unity and service to others. These themes were reflected in his book Neither Black Nor White: The Whole Church for the Broken World, which encouraged Christians to move beyond racial divisions and work together as a unified faith community. Although his work history is almost too lengthy to list, Dr. Shipley served as the first Black chaplain for the Kansas City Police Department and became pastor for churches of both the Presbyterian and Baptist denominations, including nearly a decade as pastor of Second Baptist Church in Jefferson City. His appointment as chaplain represented another milestone in a life characterized by breaking barriers. In that role, he provided spiritual guidance to officers while helping strengthen relationships between law enforcement and the broader community during a period of significant social change in American history. The author of several books and recipient of an Image Award from the Urban League of Greater Kansas City, Dr. Shipley—the married father of four sons—passed away on March 11, 2002, and was buried in Mount Moriah Cemetery in Kansas City. The veteran’s account of dedication to faith and family is firmly rooted, if not inspired, by the brief time he served in the United States Navy. It was during this period that he was exposed to the disconcerting reality of segregation but later received the compassionate support of an officer who recognized his potential. The story of David O. Shipley illustrates the transformative power of education, faith and perseverance. A young man who entered the Navy before completing high school ultimately earned a doctorate, authored books, pastored congregations across denominational lines and became a respected civic leader. His journey from segregated classrooms and military facilities to positions of leadership reflected both his personal determination and the broader progress achieved by African Americans during the twentieth century. This, Shipley’s son notes, was a defining element of his father’s legacy. “I’ve always taken the approach to learn from my elders because it gives me a sense of who I am, where I come from … it comforts me,” said Douglas Shipley. “There were many Black men and women who served their country before my father and many have served since, but I think it is important to remember the struggles he and his counterparts—such as the Tuskegee Airmen—were forced to overcome. Or else,” he concluded, “we run the risk of it becoming a lost part of history to our current generations.” Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the upcoming historical compilation "Voices of the Moreau."  The Rev. Dr. David O. Shipley devoted his postwar life to ministry, education and community service. A pastor, author and the first African-American chaplain of the Kansas City Police Department, he earned a doctorate in ministry and became a respected advocate for racial reconciliation and Christian unity. Courtesy of Douglas Shipley.  Mitchell “Mitch” Tising (right) is pictured in 1954 after earning top honors at the Missouri State Fair for his cured ham, which was named grand champion and won the light ham division. A member of the well-known Tising family of High Point, he continued a tradition of excellence in agriculture that brought statewide recognition to the family’s work and reinforced their longstanding reputation in Moniteau County. Courtesy of Beverly (Tising) Meyer For generations, the Tising name was tied to two enduring traditions: the crack of a baseball bat on a summer afternoon and the J.F. Tising & Sons Store. For Mitchell “Mitch” Tising, those traditions were lived, not inherited.
Born on March 6, 1909, Mitch Tising attended the one-room High Point Grade School. It was there, alongside cousins and neighbors, that he developed an early appreciation for both hard work and community life. Baseball had long been woven into the identity of High Point. For the Tising family, the sport was passed through generations. Mitch’s father, Lloyd Tising, had earned recognition for his athletic abilities while his cousin, Johnnie “Jack” Tising, later reached the major leagues, pitching briefly for the Pittsburgh Pirates. For Mitch, the game was both a connection to family and a path toward possibility. After completing his early schooling in High Point, he continued his education at California High School, graduating in 1927. During his time there, he became part of a defining moment in the school’s history. In 1925, California High School adopted the “Pintos” as its mascot, a name that would endure for generations. Mitch was a member of the early basketball team associated with that era and later recalled being among those who first wore the Pintos name on their jerseys. Following high school, he attended Chillicothe Business College in Missouri, where he spent two years studying business. While there, he continued to pursue his love of baseball, playing shortstop for the school’s team. In 1930, he took his passion for baseball a step further by trying out for the Kansas City Blues, a prominent minor league team and a steppingstone to the major leagues. Though he did not pursue a long-term professional career, his connection to the game did not end there. The Moniteau County Herald captured one such moment in its May 27, 1937 edition under the headline “Kittenball Season Opens With Home Run,” noting, “May 24; The National League opened their 1937 season with a bang when Mitch Tising, 3rd baseman for the High Point Braves, banged the ball over the centerfield fence for a home run.” A significant milestone in his personal life came in 1933. The Moniteau County Herald reported on Sept. 21 of that year, “Mitchell James Tising, son of Mr. and Mrs. L.J. Tising, and Miss Lillian Kays, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. James Kays of near High Point were married at the home of the officiating minister in California, Rev. A.M. Macdonnel, Wednesday evening, September 20, 1933.” Together, Mitch and Lillian built a life centered on family, community and shared responsibility. They became the parents of two daughters, Beverly Meyer and Saundra Wiser, both of whom would later play a role in continuing the traditions of the Tising family. If baseball represented aspiration, the family store represented responsibility. Established in the late 19th century by his grandfather, J.F. Tising, the mercantile had become a cornerstone of High Point life, serving generations of customers and adapting through decades of change. It was more than a business and had become a gathering place where neighbors met, exchanged news and built relationships. By the time Mitch came of age, the store had already endured significant challenges. It had survived fire, burglary and the economic strain of the Great Depression, when the Tising family extended credit to struggling customers, allowing them to maintain their livelihoods while ensuring the store’s continued operation. In 1949, Mitch and his brother-in-law, L.R. “Frenchie” Martine, purchased an interest in the business following the retirement of his uncle. When his father died the following year, Mitch became part of the next generation responsible for guiding the store forward. “He wanted to carry on the family tradition,” his daughter, Beverly Meyer, said. Inside, the store retained its familiar character, with rolling ladders for reaching high shelves and a potbelly stove that served as a gathering place during the winter months. All the while, Mitch’s influence extended well beyond the store. The Tising family had long been recognized for their agricultural success, particularly in cured ham competitions at the Missouri State Fair. As The Missouri Telegraph reported on Aug. 28, 1947, “The Tising family of High Point this year again took a lion’s share of the prizes in the cured ham contest at the Missouri State Fair. Seven members of the Moniteau County family exhibited 13 hams in the contest.... Out of 27 possible ribbons, the Tising entries won 19.” That tradition continued in the years that followed. The California Democrat reported on Aug. 26, 1954, “Mitchell Tising, High Point, had the grand champion ham at the Missouri State Fair, it was just announced Monday. The ham was also the winner in the light ham division.” Beverly Meyer recalled, “Dad’s family was very involved in the state fair for many years and for a while, it was the Tisings and the Burger family who were some of the most recognized names from the area when it came to hams. Because of this, I basically lived at the state fair for several days every summer while growing up.” Life on the family farm was equally formative. “The farm we lived on was about 200 acres and the house that was there basically fell down,” Meyer said. “In the early 1950s, my dad had the current house on the property built. While it was being built, we lived in a brooder house for chickens that had three rooms.” Like his father before him, Mitch served his community through the Moniteau County Fair, taking on leadership roles and helping organize the fair’s centennial celebration in 1966. He remained connected to education as well, serving as secretary of the High Point school board during the construction of a new consolidated school in the early 1950s. In 1974, Mitch became sole owner of the store after purchasing his partner’s interest, marking the culmination of decades of involvement in the family business. He continued to operate it for several more years, maintaining the traditions that had defined it for generations. When Mitchell “Mitch” Tising passed away in 1983, he left behind more than a business. He left a legacy deeply woven into High Point history. The store would continue for a time under the care of his family before closing in 1990, ending more than a century of continuous operation. For Mitch Tising, life was never about choosing between dreams and family commitment but honoring both. In doing so, the Tising family name carries on. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.” Enduring resolve - Kathryn “Kate” Schubert’s life balanced between heritage, heartbreak, and family6/16/2026  Kathryn “Kate” R. Schubert Tobin stands behind her stepfather, Fred Edward Schubert, who is seated, in this family photograph taken near Centertown. Beside her is her taller brother, William Schubert, while her husband, Joseph “Bud” Tobin, rests a hand on her younger brother, Louis Henry Schubert, who later gave his life in World War I—an image capturing multiple generations of a family shaped by faith, migration, and sacrifice. Courtesy of Verna Menteer Kathryn “Kate” R. Schubert was born August 10, 1883, on her father’s farm near Centertown, Missouri, into a family whose story reflected both the promise and the cost of nineteenth-century German immigration to Mid-Missouri. She was the daughter of Johann Christoph “Christopher” Schubert and Anna Elizabeth Flessa Schubert, descendants of Bavarian settlers whose names became closely tied to the Lutheran churches, farms, and small communities of the region.
Kate was raised and later confirmed in the German Evangelical Lutheran Church at Centertown, where faith reinforced the bonds of family and community. Her early years unfolded in a rural world defined by agriculture and tradition, but her early childhood was marked by tragedy. In 1884, when Kate was not yet a year old, her father suffered from severe mental illness and was committed to the state asylum in Fulton. On June 2 of that year, he died by suicide when only 32 years old. Widowed with young children, Anna Elizabeth Flessa Schubert faced the difficult task of rebuilding family stability. In time, Anna married her late husband’s younger brother, Fred Edward Schubert. The marriage blended households that included children from Anna’s first marriage as well as those born to the union with Fred. Kate grew up with two brothers and one sister, along with five stepsiblings who lived into adulthood. The family’s structure taught early lessons in resilience and adaptability. As Kate approached adulthood, her life followed a path common to many young women in rural Missouri at the turn of the twentieth century. Census records show that in the early 1900s she lived as a boarder with another local family who operated a general store. The household included a married couple and their two young children, and Kate was listed on the 1900 Census as a house servant. Such arrangements offered unmarried women modest income and independence while providing valuable experience in domestic management. This period marked an important transition between girlhood and adulthood. Living outside her immediate family, Kate had to balance hours of domestic labor with community life. On July 8, 1909, Kate’s life took a decisive and unexpected turn. The Jefferson City Post-Tribune reported, “The many friends of Kate Schubert will be surprised to learn that she was united in marriage this afternoon in St. Louis to Joseph Tobin, a train auditor of Parsons, Kansas.” The newspaper added that after a honeymoon trip to Galveston, Texas, and Seattle, Washington, the couple would reside in Parsons. Marriage carried Kate far from the farm fields of Centertown into the expanding world of railroads and commerce. Her husband, Joseph “Bud” Tobin, worked as a railroad auditor while his father was a locomotive mechanic. Life in Kansas introduced Kate to new rhythms shaped by timetables, ledgers, and travel. However, Kate and Joseph later moved to St. Louis, where her role shifted once again. While her husband began working in the insurance industry, she became a homemaker and raised their children in a city far removed from her rural beginnings. Despite living in St. Louis, Kate maintained close ties to central Missouri and her extended family. On Aug. 14, 1925, the Jefferson City Tribune reported, “Mrs. Joseph Tobin and son and daughter of St. Louis came up yesterday and are spending two days with the family of the County Clerk.” The notice added that they would also visit relatives “at Schuberts and Mrs. Tobin’s mother, Mrs. Fred Schubert, at Centertown, before returning to St. Louis in two weeks.” Joseph Tobin’s professional standing continued to rise. On Jan. 23, 1939, the St. Louis Star and Times reported that Joseph S. Tobin was serving as general manager of the Provident Life and Accident Insurance Company, placing the family within St. Louis’s business circles during a period of economic recovery following the Great Depression. Although their marriage appeared to have stability, it did not endure. Kate and Joseph divorced prior to World War II, a decision that carried social and personal weight during a period when divorce remained relatively uncommon, particularly among women raised in close-knit, church-centered communities. Joseph later remarried, while Kate chose a quieter path forward. Rather than uproot her life again, she remained in the St. Louis area, a decision guided by devotion to her children. With her son and daughter established there, staying nearby offered purpose during a period of personal transition. In a city that had once represented great change, St. Louis became a place where Kate could focus on family, maintain independence, and draw strength from daily routines shaped by motherhood and faith. Kate died on June 11, 1952, at the age of 68, and was buried at Sunset Memorial Park and Mausoleum in St. Louis County. Though far removed geographically from the Centertown farm where her life began, she never fully left behind the values formed in rural Missouri. Her upbringing, which was rooted in Lutheran faith, family responsibility, and perseverance through loss, remained evident throughout her life, guiding her responses to hardship and change alike. Kathryn “Kate” R. Schubert Tobin’s life was not marked by public acclaim or formal recognition, but reflects the experiences of countless women whose labor, adaptability, and strength sustained families through generations of unexpected changes. Living between old-world heritage and modern America, between rural beginnings and urban adulthood, Kate’s story is a testament to the resilience of women who carried family history forward ... steadily, faithfully, and with enduring resolve. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.”  Charles E. Kieselbach of Jefferson City enlisted in the U.S. Navy during the Great Depression. He later served as a carpenter's mate first class aboard the battleship USS Arizona and became the first known Cole County casualty of World War II when he was killed during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. Courtesy of the Kieselbach family. World War II was a historical period when citizens of this country overwhelmingly rallied in support of the war effort, often sending their offspring to fight the tyranny spreading overseas. In Jefferson City, the war exacted a toll in the loss of the lives of many local residents, including Charles Ermin Kieselbach, who earned the tragic distinction of becoming the first Cole County casualty of World War II when he was killed at Pearl Harbor. Born in Jefferson City on January 14, 1916, Kieselbach was the namesake of his father, a local bricklayer. When graduating from Jefferson City Senior High School in May 1934, he discovered that good jobs were elusive since it was the height of the Great Depression. Later that summer, after spending several weeks searching for gainful employment, he signed up for work relief with the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), a federal program providing single men between ages 18 and 25 with jobs improving public lands, forests and parks. “He worked in the CCC program from July 1934 to August 1935,” remarked his nephew, Wayne Kieselbach. “Still with no work to be had, so he made the decision to enlist in the U.S. Navy in September 1935,” he added. Beginning his four-year enlistment period, Kieselbach traveled to Great Lakes Naval Training Station in Illinois, where he spent the next three months becoming a sailor. His training soon resulted in his rate of carpenter’s mate and assignment to the battleship USS Arizona in January 1936. The website of the Naval History and Heritage Command explained, “USS Arizona, a 31,400-ton Pennsylvania-class battleship built at the New York Navy Yard, Brooklyn, New York, was commissioned in October 1916.” The site further noted, “In 1929-31, Arizona was modernized at the Norfolk Navy Yard, Portsmouth, Virginia, emerging with a radically altered appearance and major improvements to her armament and protection.” Throughout the late 1930s, Kieselbach remained with the USS Arizona while it continued operations with the battle fleet. A milestone year arrived in 1939 when the sailor reenlisted, earned the rate of carpenter’s mate first class, and married his sweetheart from Jefferson City, the former June Summers. As a carpenter’s mate, the young sailor’s duties found him working with issues related to the ship’s ventilation, painting, repairing lifeboats and, in times of combat, assisting in fighting fires and sealing any holes in the hull of the vessel. “The Arizona had teak decking and sometime in the late 1930s, the ship was re-decked,” explained Wayne Kieselbach. “Of course, as a carpenter’s mate first class, he would have been involved in this project.” He continued, “Apparently after the re-decking was completed, the carpenter’s mates were allowed to use some of the old decking on personal projects done in their spare time. My uncle made a pair of teak lamps which he gave to my grandmother, and which my cousin now has.” While stationed in Hawaii, Kieselbach also purchased a painting of the USS Arizona and shipped it home to his parents in Jefferson City. More than eight decades later, the artwork remains a treasured family heirloom. In 1940, President Franklin D. Roosevelt ordered the Pacific Fleet, including the USS Arizona, to remain based at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii as a demonstration of American resolve amid growing tensions with Japan. Diplomatic efforts continued, but relations between the two nations deteriorated rapidly during the following year. On the morning of December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor became ground zero for a devastating surprise attack by Japanese forces—the signature event that drew the United States into World War II. The assault resulted in more than 2,400 American deaths, nearly 1,200 wounded personnel, the destruction or damage of numerous naval vessels, and the loss of more than 300 aircraft. At approximately 8:06 a.m., a Japanese armor-piercing bomb struck the USS Arizona near one of its forward ammunition magazines. Moments later, a catastrophic explosion ripped through the battleship, destroying much of the vessel’s forward section and killing more than 1,100 officers and enlisted men almost instantly. Among those lost was 25-year-old Charles Kieselbach. The explosion was so violent that it lifted portions of the battleship from the water before the vessel settled to the bottom of the harbor. Although some sections remained visible above the surface, naval officials later determined that the wreck would remain where it sank. Today, the USS Arizona continues to serve as the final resting place for many of the men who perished aboard. “The USS Arizona Memorial is built over the remains of the sunken battleship USS Arizona, the final resting place for many of the 1,177 crewmen killed on December 7, 1941,” explained the website of Pearl Harbor Historic Sites. “This loss of life represents over half of the Americans killed during the worst naval disaster in American history.” Kieselbach was among the first Missourians to lose his life during World War II and is generally recognized as the first Cole County resident killed in the conflict. Devastated by the loss of their son, Kieselbach’s parents quickly committed themselves to supporting the war effort. With two other sons still serving in the military, they encouraged fellow citizens to purchase war bonds and support American troops overseas. Throughout the years, communication was eventually lost with the young sailor’s widow, June. Nevertheless, his memory remained alive within the family and community he left behind. In 1959, Jefferson City participated in the observance of “USS Arizona Memorial Day,” presenting a check to a representative of Gov. James T. Blair for construction of “a suitable memorial over the sunken battleship at Pearl Harbor,” according to the Sunday News and Tribune on August 9, 1959. Contributions were made in honor of the sacrifice rendered by Kieselbach and his fellow sailors. Designed by architect Alfred Preis, the USS Arizona Memorial opened on May 30, 1962. Spanning the sunken battleship without touching it, the memorial has since welcomed millions of visitors seeking to honor the men who died during the attack. Nancy Snakenberg, a niece of Kieselbach’s, never had the opportunity to meet her uncle. However, she maintains that his legacy has been passed down through her family, providing an enduring appreciation for the sacrifices made on behalf of future generations. “The Kieselbach family were a hardworking, loving and patriotic family who taught respect and integrity,” said Snakenberg. “Their values are directly responsible for my quality of life and those my children have enjoyed.” She added, “I am thankful for the examples they set and that their memory is being honored, including that of our Uncle Charles Ermin Kieselbach.” More than eighty years after his death, Charles Kieselbach remains a symbol of the sacrifice made by ordinary Americans during one of the nation's darkest days. Like the hundreds of sailors who still rest aboard the USS Arizona, his story serves as a reminder that freedom often comes at a tremendous cost. Jeremy P. Ämick is a regional author and owner of Moreau Valley Press.  While stationed at Pearl Harbor, Charles Kieselbach purchased this painting of the battleship USS Arizona and shipped it home to his parents in Jefferson City. More than eighty years later, the artwork remains a treasured family heirloom and a reminder of the young sailor who perished aboard the vessel during the attack on Pearl Harbor. Courtesy of the Kieselbach family. |
AuthorJeremy P. Ämick is an award-winning author and historian dedicated to preserving music, military and local histories. Archives
July 2026
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