‘A better reward’ - Centertown Baptist Church has history and spiritual roots dating back to 18604/30/2026  William Clark, a native of Massachusetts, later settled in Moniteau County, where he married and was ordained a Baptist preacher. In 1860, he helped organized the congregation that became Centertown Baptist Church in western Cole County. Courtesy of the Wagner family Churches have long been recognized as the spiritual anchors of their communities, providing a central meeting location for worship and other friendly gatherings. The Centertown Baptist Church, since 1860, has been a central feature of the Centertown area and remains the only surviving congregation in a community that once contained several churches. “On December 3, 1860, eighteen people met at the home of William S. Freshour for the purpose of organizing a Baptist church for the Centertown community,” explained the 100th anniversary booklet of the Centertown Baptist Church from 1960. “Before the church was started, people had their memberships at Sardis, in Elston, Mo., and in California churches,” the booklet added. William Freshour, born to meager circumstances but accumulated great wealth in later years as a businessman and farmer, was a driving force in the formation of the congregation. Many times, he served as a judge in the Cole County courts, and the Godspeed Publishing Company wrote in 1889, “The (Centertown) site was first occupied in 1852, by Judge Freshour, who erected his house north of the railroad.” At the time the church was organized in 1860, it was referred to as Lookout Grove Church. In 1867, the community that became Centertown was surveyed and, in 1870, the church renamed Centertown Baptist Church. The first pastor of the fledgling congregation was Rev. William Clark, a native of Massachusetts who migrated to Missouri in 1841, married Mary Snodgrass in 1846 and was later ordained as a Baptist minister. As part of his pastoral duties, he helped oversee the establishment of Articles of Faith and Rules of Decorum to help guide the fledgling congregation. “We believe the visible church of Christ is a congregation of persons who have given themselves up to the Lord and to one another, having agreed to keep up a Godly discipline according to the rules of the Gospel,” declared Article Seven. When the new church in Centertown was organized in 1860, church history notes that although construction of a building soon began, it was not finished until 1870 because of the tumult of the Civil War. Rev. Clark shepherded the Centertown congregation for the next several years but passed away in 1877 when only 56 years old. He was laid to rest in the Centertown Cemetery a short distance from the church he helped organize 17 years earlier. Like many other churches being carved from the wilderness of developing communities, the first church house was framed from trees cut in the area. Pews were also hand hewn and with rural electrification yet to arrive, lighting was provided by lanterns and candles. The first church was built east of its current location inside what is now the Centertown Cemetery. This rustic frame structure served the congregation for the remainder of Judge Freshour’s life, who passed away in 1897 and was laid to rest in the California Masonic Cemetery. “The Baptists of Centertown have done themselves honor in the erection of a most commodious church house,” reported the Word and Way on September 22, 1898. “Our aged sister Freshour (Judge Freshour’s widow) gave $1,000. The estate of the lamented Freshour speaks after his death.” In the years following the establishment of Centertown Baptist Church, the German Evangelical Lutheran Church and Cumberland Presbyterian Church were also organized. However, both churches have long since disbanded. When the new Centertown Church was erected in 1898, it was at its present location approximately a half-mile west of the cemetery. The new church was built at the cost of $2,200. “The old church building with furnishings was sold (in 1906) for $125.00,” noted the church’s 125th anniversary booklet. “This same year, the pastor’s salary was raised from $250.00 to $275.00 per year.” Construction of a parsonage was the next major addition, which occurred in 1919. Joe N. Smith, a member of the Centertown congregation, was killed on March 17, 1925, when the Centertown Bank, where he worked as cashier, was robbed. Smith died shortly after being found on the floor in a back room of the bank, having been shot by the thieves. “The funeral of Joe N. Smith was held in the California Masonic Cemetery, Sunday,” reported the Tipton Times on March 27, 1925. “It is estimated that 500 automobiles and 2,000 persons were present at the services.” Several years later, in 1930, the glorious transition from relying on lamps and candles for lighting occurred when the church was finally wired for electricity. Larry Wagner inauspiciously entered the world when he was born in a small home north of Centertown in 1939. As a child, he attended Centertown Baptist Church and was later baptized as a member of the congregation. According to his obituary, he was a deacon of the congregation for 37 years and taught Sunday school classes for 40 years, becoming a respected elder and church leader. “My great-grandfather William Wagner was the first from our family to begin attending Centertown Baptist Church,” said Vicki Wagner Gerling. “My grandfather, Frank Wagner, attended there and my father, Larry Wagner, was a member his entire life. Both my sons have been members, as have my grandchildren, which makes six generations of our family who have been members of the church.” Larry Wagner passed away in 2019 and was buried in the Centertown Cemetery, not far from the first church building where his grandparents had attended services decades earlier. Throughout his many years of membership, he watched the church grow and change, and later shared his own reflections on how it had influenced his own life. “… I thought about the people who have used their spiritual gifts to help me grow spiritually,” Wagner wrote for a presentation several years ago. “They didn’t have to—they did it because they had a love in their heart that came from knowing Jesus personally…,” he added. “What kind of example are you and I being today? I can’t think of a better reward than to have someone say that I have been an influence in their lives that led them to a saving knowledge of Jesus.” Jeremy P. Ämick is the author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau," "Beyond the Moreau," and "Hidden History of Cole County."  The first house of worship used by Centertown Baptist Church was erected in the Centertown Cemetery. This building was abandoned in 1898 and a new church erected at its current location a short distance to the east. Courtesy of the Wagner family
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 This painting by the late Hazel A. Andtwiler, created in the 1950s, depicts the German Evangelical Emanuel Lutheran Church in Centertown as it likely appeared around 1900. The modest rural church, surrounded by farmland and its adjoining cemetery, served generations of local German families. Though the building no longer stands, the image preserves the quiet beauty and historical significance of a once-thriving congregation. The German Evangelical Emanuel Lutheran Church once stood as a quiet but enduring symbol of faith and community in Centertown, its simple yet elegant structure reflecting both the modesty and resilience of the area’s early German settlers. Though the church no longer stands, its image lives on through a painting created in the 1950s by the late Hazel A. Andtwiler, depicting the building as it appeared around 1900. The artwork captures the understated beauty of a rural church that, for decades, served as a spiritual anchor for generations of families in the region . The congregation was formally established in 1876, during a period when German immigrants were steadily shaping the cultural and religious landscape of central Missouri. The following year, on Aug. 25, 1877, adjoining land was purchased for use as a cemetery, though records indicate burials had taken place there as early as 1871. Altogether, the church property encompassed nearly three acres, reflecting both its importance and its permanence within the community . Like many rural congregations of the time, Emanuel Lutheran was closely tied to the lives and livelihoods of its members. Among its early congregants was John Frederick Flessa, a Bavarian immigrant whose influence extended well beyond the church. Flessa established and operated the Flessa Flouring Mills in Centertown alongside his son, John Jacob, contributing to the area’s agricultural economy at a time when milling operations were vital to local farmers. In 1900, Flessa joined other investors in founding the Centertown Milling Company, a venture that underscored the community’s growing economic ambitions at the turn of the century. Among his partners was Bailey Lansdown, a businessman from Russellville who relocated to Centertown that same year and opened the Lansdown Mercantile Company—further evidence of a thriving rural economy tied to both agriculture and commerce. Flessa’s family remained deeply connected to the region. His son, Adam Flessa, was confirmed in the Lutheran church in Centertown and worked alongside his father in the milling business before later managing operations near Russellville. Over time, Adam transitioned into other ventures, including managing a livery stable, before retiring in 1948. His life reflects the adaptability required of rural Missourians navigating the shifting economic conditions of the early 20th century. Another key figure in the church’s early history was John Leonard Blochberger, also a Bavarian immigrant and a founding member of the congregation. Blochberger’s roots in Missouri’s Lutheran tradition ran deep. In 1852, when he was just 25, German immigrants gathered at his family home to establish what would become St. Paul’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Lohman—a congregation that would play a central role in the region’s religious life for generations. Like many early settlers, Blochberger balanced faith with agricultural enterprise, operating a farm north of Centertown. His descendants continued that tradition of entrepreneurship, with his son William later owning successful businesses in several Missouri communities, including Lohman, Cole Camp and Sedalia. Despite its importance, Emanuel Lutheran faced a persistent challenge common among rural congregations—its size. With limited membership, the church was unable to support a full-time pastor and instead relied on shared ministerial arrangements with nearby congregations. For a time, Pastor George Fikenscher of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Lohman provided services, but in 1891 he withdrew to focus on his primary parish. The Centertown congregation then turned to St. John’s Lutheran Church in Schubert for support. “A delegation from Immanuel Church, Centertown, appeared at the January 1, 1892 meeting to request that Pastor (Ernest Frederick) Geyer hold services in their parish once a month,” according to A History of St. John’s Lutheran Church—Schubert. “After a lively debate, the request was granted….” This arrangement evolved over time, with Pastor Geyer eventually serving the Centertown congregation more frequently, though not without challenges. The dual-parish system required careful coordination and, at times, reluctant compromise between congregations. In 1895, additional support came when Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church was established in Russellville. Pastor J. Paul Franke, already serving congregations in California and Russellville, occasionally filled in at Centertown as needed. His successor, Pastor F. Schardt, later oversaw a three-point parish that included Centertown, further illustrating the interconnected nature of rural Lutheran communities at the time. Despite these efforts, maintaining consistent pastoral leadership proved difficult. By the early 20th century, the congregation increasingly relied on visiting clergy. Pastors such as Alfred Finkbeiner, a Swiss native serving St. John’s in Schubert, and later Ernst Kaatz, continued the tradition of shared ministry, but the arrangement remained tenuous. After 1919, the situation grew more uncertain. Though Pastor O. Rossbach of Trinity Lutheran Church in Russellville provided support between 1923 and 1944, the congregation’s numbers continued to decline. Following his departure, only limited services were held, and efforts to sustain regular worship gradually faded. The final years of the church reflected a broader trend seen across rural America during the mid-20th century. Population shifts, changing transportation patterns and the consolidation of congregations all contributed to the decline of small, isolated churches. Emanuel Lutheran was no exception. By the late 1950s, the building had fallen into disrepair, its once-active congregation reduced to only a handful of members. In the early 1960s, the structure was sold and ultimately demolished, with the $90 raised from the sale placed into a fund for the upkeep of the cemetery . Yet even in decline, the church’s legacy endured. The bell that once rang from its belfry found a new home in 1960 at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church in Jefferson City, gifted by Otto and Edith Schramm, the last remaining members of the congregation. Both are now buried in the cemetery that continues to mark the site of the church’s former presence. Since 1977, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in California has overseen the care and maintenance of the cemetery, ensuring that the stories of those buried there are not forgotten. Today, visitors to the site can still trace the outline of the church’s limestone foundation, faintly visible at certain times of the year. The front of the building once faced north toward Lookout Trail—Old Highway 50—while North Waterford Road passed along its eastern side. The names etched on the remaining gravestones—many tied to communities such as Stringtown, Millbrook, Lohman and Russellville—serve as enduring reminders of the people who built both the church and the community around it. Though the German Evangelical Emanuel Lutheran Church is gone, its story remains. It is a story of faith, immigration, perseverance and change—one that mirrors the broader history of rural Missouri and the communities that once flourished there. Jeremy P. Amick is author of the historical compilation "Lutherans of Cole County, Missouri.  The Rev. O. Rossbach, pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in Russellville from 1923 to 1944, also provided ministerial support to the German Evangelical Emanuel Lutheran Church in Centertown. His service helped sustain the small congregation during its later years as membership declined and regular pastoral leadership became increasingly difficult to maintain.  Arthur Thompson was raised on a farm near Jefferson City and earned an education at a commercial college. He moved to Centertown in 1910 and was appointed as postmaster. In 1913, he married and became father to one daughter, which was followed by he and his wife establishing a grocery and restaurant business. Thompson was 33 years old when he died from the Spanish influenza in early 1919. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick The Spanish influenza of 1918 and 1919 became a worldwide pandemic that consumed the lives of many a young person beginning to find their footing in the world. Arthur E. Thompson, a native of Cole County, was operating his grocery business and restaurant in Centertown when he was cut down in his prime by this indiscriminate disease, leaving behind a wife and young daughter. Thompson was born on January 9, 1885, the eldest son of Eugene Thompson and Nettie Rawson. He and his two brothers and three sisters grew up on their parents’ stock farm near Jefferson City. Arthur attended the public schools in Jefferson City and after graduating in the early 1900s, embarked upon a tandem path of working and furthering his education. The Jefferson City Tribune printed on January 7, 1908, “Arthur E. Thompson … who resides about ten miles southwest of here, has been clerking at the Elston house and attending the Capital City Commercial College, (and) has given up his clerkship and is now keeping books for the Missouri River Lime Company of Jefferson City.” The article further noted that Thompson had been in his position for about a year and was committed to attending night classes to complete his course of study in bookkeeping, shorthand, typewriting and stenography. His future began to show great promise when he moved to the Centertown area in 1910. Not long after his arrival, he passed the civil service examination and was appointed as postmaster for the community. While living and working in Centertown, he became acquainted with Gladys Belle Hazlett and the two were engaged. “Centertown Postmaster Married,” read the headline from the Moniteau County Herald on July 31, 1913. “A.E. Thompson … and Miss Gladys Hazlett were married at Jefferson City, Tuesday, June 23, 1913 by Rev. F.M. Burton, pastor of the Methodist church. The bride is a very pretty winsome young lady….” Gladys began working as an assistant in the Centertown Post Office with her husband. The couple became parents to a daughter, Ruth, on September 26, 1914, and chose to bring her up in the Christian faith at Centertown Baptist church, where his wife’s family were members. Embracing the previous experience that he acquired working for companies in the Jefferson City area, Thompson chose to leave his position as postmaster of Centertown in 1914 and opened a restaurant and grocery business in the community. Additionally, he became involved in local Republican political circles and made unsuccessful runs for the justice of the peace for the Marion Township and the Cole County Assessor. “Theodore Roosevelt’s visit to Kansas City on Memorial Day was the occasion of a demonstration which proves the people of the Missouri Valley to be in hearty sympathy with issues of Americanism and preparedness enunciated by the former president…,” reported the Kansas City Times on June 2, 1916. Both Thompson and his wife used the occasion as a reason to travel to Kansas City and listen to Roosevelt’s remarks during his bid for the Republican nomination for president. Following his Kansas City visit, Roosevelt’s former vice president, Charles Hughes, instead received the Republican nomination and was later defeated by incumbent Woodrow Wilson. The next year, in April 1917, the United States entered the war in Europe. Thompson, who was 32 years old at the time of the first draft registration on June 5, 1918, was above the cutoff age for registering. He was, however, required to participate in the third registration on September 12, 1918, for men ages 18 to 45. The war ended a few weeks later and Thompson was never called into military service. But during the war, a scourge that impacted many citizens soon brought the Centertown businessman’s life to an unexpected end. “Influenza—more specifically the Spanish flu—left its devastating mark in both world and American history (in 1918),” explained an article on the website of the Pan American Health Organization. “The microscopic killer circled the entire globe in four months, claiming the lives of more than 21 million people.” On January 2, 1919, a week before his birthday, the 33-year-old Thompson died at his home because of pneumonia brought on by the Spanish flu, making him one of more than 675,000 U.S. citizens who died in the pandemic. He was laid to rest in the Centertown Cemetery. In the months following his death, his business property was sold. His wife raised their daughter in his absence and, on February 5, 1928, married Coy Sartain Sr. She and her second husband went on to raise a son and two daughters. Thompson’s daughter, Ruth, was twice married, the second time to Lloyd Bolden on March 4, 1946. She and Lloyd operated a service station and restaurant in Centertown for 23 years. Ruth Bolden was only 58 years old when she died from a heart attack in 1973 and was buried in Centertown Cemetery near her father. “However, as bad as things were, the worst was yet to come, for germs would kill more people than bullets,” explained the book “The 1918 Spanish Flu Pandemic: The History and Legacy of the World's Deadliest Influenza Outbreak." It added, “By the time that last fever broke and the last quarantine sign came down, the world had lost 3-5% of its population.” A nation embroiled in a world war while its citizenry battled against a non-discriminating pandemic created tumultuous circumstances for many. Arthur Thompson became just one among millions succumbing to its insidious attack while his headstone sits among many in local cemeteries, serving as a reminder of the lives cut down in their youth. Jeremy P. Ämick is the author of the historical compilation “Beyond the Moreau.”  Gladys Hazlett, remarried in 1928, nine years after the death of her first husband, Arthur Thompson. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick  From 1930 to 1947, Dixie Gardens was a well-known entertainment venue located on the western edge of Centertown. In addition to the main entertainment hall, there was an outdoor pavilion and small cabins available to rent for overnight stays. Courtesy of Lucille Rosemiller When plans were being made in 1925 to expand the network of highways across the United States, communities large and small began to anticipate the economic opportunities that would follow. In rural Missouri, these early road projects—precursors to the modern interstate system—were transformative, connecting isolated towns to regional markets and bringing with them a new wave of automobile tourism. In the small settlement of Centertown, those changes inspired one entrepreneur to create a destination that would, for nearly two decades, serve as a social and entertainment hub for Mid-Missouri. U.S. Highway 50, a major east-west route linking Kansas City and St. Louis, passed through Centertown in the mid-1920s, placing the town squarely on a growing transportation corridor. At a time when Americans were increasingly traveling by automobile, roadside businesses—from service stations to cafés and tourist courts—began to appear along major routes. “This means new business—a new garage, filling station, etc.,” highway officials noted in the Tipton Times on Dec. 25, 1925. “Travelers will need to be fed and housed, and more and better … facilities and accommodations will follow.” Centertown responded quickly. By 1927, despite a population of fewer than 300 residents, the town supported churches, a school, two garages, two manufacturing plants, grocery stores, a grain elevator and boarding houses—evidence of a community adapting to the opportunities created by improved transportation. Among those who recognized the potential was George W. Greene, a Jefferson City fuel distributor who owned service stations in the region. Seeing the steady flow of traffic along Highway 50, Greene envisioned something more than a simple roadside stop. He envisioned a destination. “The opening of beautiful ‘Dixie Gardens,’ located just west of Centertown on Highway 50, has been set for Wednesday evening … by builder and owner, George W. Greene,” reported the Jefferson City Post-Tribune on Nov. 22, 1930. From the outset, Dixie Gardens was designed to impress. The resort featured a log cabin structure measuring 50 by 70 feet, with a dark walnut interior, steam heat and a large fireplace—luxuries that set it apart from many rural establishments of the time. Inside were two private dining rooms, booths and a spacious dance floor capable of accommodating 125 couples. Beyond the main building, Greene added small log tourist cabins, reflecting the growing popularity of overnight auto travel during the early 20th century. “They also built several small log tourist cabins near the main building where people could stay overnight,” said local historian Lucille Rosenmiller. “They were not very large; barely big enough to fit a cot inside.” Dixie Gardens quickly became a focal point for social life in the region. Businesses, civic organizations and fraternal groups regularly hosted dinners and events at the venue. By 1931, Greene expanded operations to include daily lunch and dinner service, while Wednesday and Saturday night dances—priced at $1 per couple—drew crowds from across Mid-Missouri. Live music was central to the experience. Bands such as “Hack and His Rhythm Kings” provided entertainment, reflecting the broader popularity of swing and dance orchestras during the era. In rural communities, venues like Dixie Gardens offered rare opportunities for large-scale social gatherings, blending music, dining and community interaction. Greene relied on local residents Frank Wagner and his wife to help manage day-to-day operations, further tying the business to the Centertown community. “Frank Wagner will have his filling station completed in the very near future; it will be located at the Dixie Gardens,” noted the Post-Tribune in September 1931, adding that visitors could also take advantage of lower gasoline prices outside city limits. In 1932, Greene sold the business to Leroy E. Leonard of Windsor, another fuel distributor who saw value in combining roadside commerce with entertainment. Despite the economic hardships of the Great Depression, Dixie Gardens remained popular. In many ways, venues like it provided an escape from the struggles of daily life. Even during difficult times, people continued to gather for music, dancing and social connection—an enduring testament to the importance of community. Following the repeal of Prohibition in 1933, Dixie Gardens expanded its offerings to include alcoholic beverages, further enhancing its appeal as a nightlife destination. Ownership later passed to Ernest Mankin, who guided the business through the early years of World War II. Like many entertainment venues, Dixie Gardens experienced a decline during the war as rationing limited travel and many young men left for military service. But the postwar years brought renewed energy. Dances resumed, orchestras returned and the venue once again became a gathering place. Patrons enjoyed $1 chicken dinners alongside beer and whiskey, recreating the lively atmosphere that had defined its earlier years. Among the performers to take the stage was a young Sid Caesar, who appeared at Dixie Gardens on May 15, 1947—years before achieving national fame as a comedian. Yet even as the venue experienced a resurgence, its final chapter was approaching. “Dixie Gardens … was destroyed by fire last night in a spectacular blaze visible nine miles away at California (Missouri),” reported the Sedalia Democrat on Aug. 16, 1947. For those who witnessed it, the memory remained vivid. “I can remember my parents taking me up there the night that it burned,” Rosenmiller said. “I was only a child at the time, but I can still see it burning in my thoughts all these years later.” The loss marked the end of an era. Dixie Gardens was never rebuilt. Over time, the surrounding structures disappeared—the tourist cabins removed, the nearby gas station converted into a residence. Today, little remains beyond a private drive bearing the name. Yet its legacy endures in memory. In a 1988 article in the Eldon Advertiser, Bob Richardson reflected on his experiences at the venue. “The spring I dated Jeanne Spalding, I tried to impress her by taking her to Dixie Gardens,” he wrote. “It was a large and prestigious place that looked like an old Southern plantation. No juke box, there was a live band….” He added simply, “Nevertheless, Dixie Gardens was a class place….” For nearly two decades, it was more than just a business. It was a destination, a gathering place and a reflection of a time when music, movement and community converged along the open road. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations "Hidden History of Cole County," "Moments on the Moreau," and "Beyond the Moreau."  The small cabins pictured were among several available for rent at Dixie Gardens. They have since been removed due to deterioration. Courtesy of Lucille Rosenmiller ‘I know the costs’ - Mid-Missouri veteran wounded while serving as machine-gunner in Korea4/19/2026  Charles Bestgen, a Korean War veteran from Tipton, Missouri, holds a framed display of his military medals alongside a portrait of himself as a young soldier. Drafted into the U.S. Army in 1951, Bestgen served as a machine gunner with the 32nd Infantry Regiment and was wounded in combat during the Battle of Triangle Hill. He later received the Purple Heart and returned home to build a life centered on family and community. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick When describing his service to the nation during the Korean War, Charles Bestgen emitted a jovial personality that masked the many hardships, losses and injuries he both witnessed and experienced during his time overseas. Born in 1930, Bestgen was raised in the Moniteau County community of California, Missouri, in a family with a strong tradition of military service. His father had served during World War I, while his two older brothers were veterans of World War II, placing Bestgen among a generation shaped by nearly continuous global conflict. After graduating high school in 1949, the 19-year-old went to work for California Manufacturing Company, settling into civilian life before receiving a draft notice in October 1951. At the time he was reported for the draft, U.S. forces were heavily engaged on the Korean Peninsula following the North Korean invasion of South Korea in June 1950. “It wasn’t too much of a shock to me,” Bestgen recalled. “I wasn’t the only one that got one,” he added with a smile. Several days later, Bestgen reported to Fort Ord, California, a major Army training center during the Korean War. There, he completed 16 weeks of intensive infantry training designed to prepare soldiers for combat in Korea’s rugged terrain and extreme weather conditions. “It didn’t get real cold (at Fort Ord) but there were some mornings when there was ice on the ground,” he said. “The ice didn’t last long and then it got so hot you couldn’t stand it. I guess that’s California for you!” Bestgen chuckled. After completing training in February 1952, Bestgen returned home for a brief leave before deploying overseas. He arrived at Inchon, a critical port used by United Nations forces following General Douglas MacArthur’s famous amphibious landing in 1950. Soon after, he was assigned to Company A, 32nd Infantry Regiment, 7th Infantry Division—one of the Army units heavily engaged in frontline combat. Initially issued an M1 rifle, Bestgen was soon reassigned as a machine gunner, operating an air-cooled .30-caliber weapon—the Browning M1919—used to provide sustained fire during both defensive operations and patrols. “You could really put a lot of lead out with that machine gun,” he said. “I think I walked all over Korea packing that thing,” he grinned. Like many infantrymen, Bestgen endured a rotation between front-line bunkers and rear positions, typically spending 30 days in combat zones followed by time at base camp. However, by mid-1952, intensified fighting along static defensive lines led to frequent nighttime patrols into enemy-held territory. “We went out many a night and I don’t see how we did it,” he said. “On one patrol, we had a guy get his arm blown off by a burp gun (a 7.62mm Soviet weapon)—those things would just tear you up.” He solemnly added, “He died before we were able to get him back to camp.” Bestgen initially considered himself fortunate, having survived repeated enemy fire without injury. That changed during one of the Korean War’s fiercest engagements—the Battle of Triangle Hill in October 1952. The battle, marked by brutal close-quarters fighting between United Nations forces and Chinese troops, resulted in heavy casualties on both sides. As his unit advanced toward objectives known as Jane Russell Hill and Sandy Ridge, Bestgen was caught in an artillery barrage. “I ended up with shrapnel wounds to my left leg,” he said. “They evacuated me to an aid station and removed some pieces of the shrapnel out of my leg, but I was eventually sent to the United States for several surgeries.” He was transferred to Camp Atterbury, Indiana, where he underwent approximately four surgeries, including skin graft procedures. Despite his injuries, life continued forward. On April 11, 1953, while still recovering, Bestgen married his fiancée, Margaret Ann. After more than eight months in the hospital, he was discharged on July 24, 1953. Returning home to Mid-Missouri, Bestgen resumed work at California Manufacturing Company, where he built a nearly 40-year career. He and his wife raised four children, establishing a life grounded in family and community following the hardships of war. In 2012, he participated in a Central Missouri Honor Flight to Washington, D.C., visiting memorials dedicated to American service members. This heartfelt trip included seeing for the first time the Korean War Veterans Memorial, which honors those who served in what is often referred to as the “Forgotten War.” “Yes, the ‘Forgotten War’—that is more or less what it’s become,” he somberly noted. “It’s truly a shame that a lot of people don’t know anything about the war … all of those brave men that gave up their lives.” He briskly concluded, “I know the costs; I was there and will never forget.” Charles Bestgen passed away on August 24, 2023. He is buried at St. Andrew’s Cemetery in Tipton, Missouri, alongside his wife of 57 years, a final resting place in the community he proudly called home. Jeremy P. Ämick is the author of many historical compilations including “Show-Me Veterans,” “Missouri in World War I,” and “Moments on the Moreau.”  Bestgen is pictured in his U.S. Army uniform in the early 1950s. Drafted in 1951, he served as a machine gunner with the 32nd Infantry Regiment during the Korean War, where he was later wounded in combat. Courtesy of Charles Bestgen ‘The highest praise’ - Veteran served overseas with African American stevedore regiment in WWI4/18/2026  Oscar Lee Smith of St. Joseph, Missouri, served in the U.S. Army during World War I as a member of the segregated 303rd Stevedore Regiment. Assigned to critical supply operations in France, he helped ensure the steady movement of troops and materials supporting the American Expeditionary Forces. After the war, Smith returned home, where he became a respected community member and helped establish a local American Legion post. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Amick The United States World War I Centennial Commission has noted that during World War I, thousands of African Americans answered the nation’s call to arms despite being “assigned menial support roles, due to American society’s deep fears and prejudices.” Yet, even in the face of discrimination, the commission emphasized that “tens of thousands of black soldiers served courageously and capably in combat.”
That legacy of service includes men like Oscar Lee Smith, whose wartime contributions reflect a broader, often overlooked story of sacrifice and duty. Smith was born March 18, 1895, in Norborne, Missouri, a small community in Carroll County. Raised during an era when opportunities for African Americans were limited, he later moved to St. Joseph, where he was living when the United States entered World War I. At the age of 22, he was drafted into military service and reported to Jefferson Barracks in St. Louis, where he was inducted into the U.S. Army on Nov. 25, 1917. In her article “True Sons of Freedom” for The American Legion Magazine, historian Jennifer Keene explained that when the United States declared war in April 1917, existing Black National Guard regiments quickly filled with volunteers. She further noted that this surge of volunteers contributed to the fact that more than “96 percent of the 367,710 African-Americans who served during the war were conscripted…” Ultimately, African Americans comprised roughly 13 percent of the wartime Army, despite representing about 10 percent of the civilian population. Smith was assigned to Company I of the 303rd Stevedore Regiment, a unit organized at Camp Hill, Virginia. Like other stevedore regiments, the 303rd was tasked with one of the most essential—but least visible—jobs in modern warfare: moving supplies. These regiments played a critical role in supporting the American Expeditionary Forces overseas, ensuring that food, ammunition, equipment and personnel flowed efficiently through European ports and toward the front lines. Without their labor, the fighting forces could not have sustained operations. The importance of such work was clearly articulated in Emmett J. Scott’s 1919 volume, Scott’s Official History of the American Negro in the World War. In describing the role of labor units, Scott wrote: “For every soldier who gets even a glimpse of the enemy or risks his life within range of shellfire, there must, in all modern warfare, be from twenty to thirty men working at such common place and routine tasks as loading and unloading ships, building piers, laying railroad tracks, making roads, in a thousand other ways making it possible for the fighting men to get to the front, and for the necessary food, ammunition and other supplies to reach them.” Smith and his fellow soldiers soon found themselves part of that essential logistical chain. After completing training, the regiment moved to a port of embarkation in late 1917 and deployed to France, where stevedore units operated along major supply hubs such as Brest, St. Nazaire, Bordeaux, Le Havre and Marseille. While in France, Smith’s duties largely involved working as a dock laborer—unloading ships as they arrived and ensuring that vital cargo was transferred quickly and efficiently. It was physically demanding work, often carried out under difficult conditions and tight deadlines, yet it was indispensable to the Allied war effort. An article by Col. Richard Goldenberg on the U.S. Department of Defense website reinforces the scale of this contribution, noting that of the nearly 380,000 African Americans who served in the Army during World War I, close to 200,000 were deployed overseas. Of those, more than half were assigned to labor and stevedore battalions, which were roles that many Army leaders of the time deemed most appropriate due to prevailing racial attitudes. Despite the lack of recognition often given to such units, the performance of these soldiers did not go unnoticed by those who depended on their work. Stevedore regiments developed a reputation for efficiency, reliability and endurance. When the fighting ended in November 1918, the work of the stevedore units did not cease. Instead, soldiers like Smith remained in France for several months, continuing to load and unload ships as the United States began the massive process of demobilizing its forces and returning personnel and equipment home. Eventually, Smith departed France on July 30, 1919, sailing from Brest aboard the transport ship Saxonia as part of the 849th Transportation Corps. Following his return to the United States, Smith resumed civilian life in Missouri. He married and became the father of a daughter, a stepdaughter and two stepsons. Records indicate that he was active in his community, including involvement with the Boy Scouts, and later worked as a night watchman for Swift & Company in St. Joseph. Like many African American veterans, Smith returned to a nation that still grappled with segregation and inequality. One of the most visible examples of this divide occurred within veterans’ organizations. Many Black veterans were not welcomed into existing American Legion posts, prompting them to form their own. In 1920, Smith helped establish Roy Curd Post 51 of the American Legion in St. Joseph, a post named in honor of a local Black soldier who died during the war. He later served as commander, demonstrating a continued commitment to service and leadership within his community. Smith remained a respected figure in St. Joseph throughout his life. He died June 24, 1962, at the age of 67 and was laid to rest in Ashland Cemetery. The legacy of soldiers like Smith was perhaps best captured by Emmett J. Scott, who recognized the indispensable contributions of labor and stevedore units during the war. Reflecting on their service, he wrote: “The work of the Negro Stevedore Regiments and Labor Battalions, and their unremitting toil at the French ports—Brest, St. Nazaire, Bordeaux, Havre, Marseilles—won the highest praise from all who had the opportunity to judge of the efficiency of their work.” He added: “Every man who served his country in one of these organizations was as truly fighting to save his country as though he had carried a rifle and killed Germans.” Smith’s story stands as a reminder that the history of war extends far beyond the battlefield. Victory depended not only on those who fought in the trenches, but also on those who labored behind the lines by loading ships, building infrastructure and sustaining an army far from home. In that essential work, men like Oscar Lee Smith earned exactly what Scott described more than a century ago: the highest praise. Jeremy P. Ämick is a military historian and author who has written numerous books on veterans and military history. ‘Solid as a rock’ - World War II veteran Alvin Weber established produce business in Russellville4/17/2026  Alvin Weber was inducted into the U.S. Army Air Forces in World War II and served as an aircraft armorer on Guam. He became a respected businessman in Russellville, also serving on the town council and helping establish the local Lion’s Club. Courtesy of Mark Weber. Alvin Weber was born on a small farm south of Russellville in 1911, where he and his three brothers were instilled with a rural work ethic at a very early age. As the years passed and the Great Depression began to carve away the country’s economic comforts, Alvin found the means to scratch out a living until his efforts were interrupted by the country’s call to arms. “My dad had a twin brother, Alfred, and they both attended the nearby one-room Enterprise School,” said Mark Weber. “He graduated the eighth grade and later moved to Lohman to open a produce business,” he added. The young man started to purchase cream, eggs, milk and other produce from local farmers, selling them at a marginal profit locally while also making shipments to packaging houses via the Bagnell Branch of the Missouri Pacific Railroad. In 1936, Weber married the former Neva Eberhart from the Russellville area. The couple moved to Sedalia in 1939, where Alvin was employed to drive a truck for Swift & Company, a business that purchased and sold produce on an expanded scale. “My parents decided to come back to Russellville in 1941 and opened Weber Produce,” said Mark Weber. “He ran the business until February 1943, when he received notice that he was being inducted into the military for World War II.” As Mark Weber explained, his father had registered for the military draft in Pettis County a couple of years earlier while still living in Sedalia. The February 26, 1943 edition of the Sedalia Weekly Democrat noted that Alvin Weber was among 75 local men “called into the Armed Forces” and “(o)rdered by the board to report on March 5 (1943).” Less than two years into his new business endeavors, he shuttered Weber Produce in preparation for his departure for military service. He was inducted into the U.S. Army at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, on March 6, 1943, and assigned to the Army Air Forces. Intially, he was sent to Florida to complete his basic training at the Miami Beach Training Center. From there, he traveled to Aberdeen, Maryland, for six weeks of advanced training to learn the maintenance of small weapons. “He did a lot of training stateside that included gunnery training in the Mojave Desert,” said Mark Weber. “Later, he also trained at Ardmore, Oklahoma; Dalhart Army Air Base, Texas; and in Russell, Kansas.” The instruction and training helped prepare Weber for performance as an armorer for the Boeing B-29 Superfortress—a four-engine heavy bomber. His military records indicate that he supervised five personnel, all of whom were trained to work on the flight line inspecting the guns on the aircraft and making any necessary repairs to keep the weapons in a peak operational condition. Assigned to the 458th Bomb Squadron of the 330th Bomb Group, Weber deployed to North Field on Guam in January 1945. For the next several months, Weber and his crew not only maintained the small guns on the aircraft but loaded and prepared the bombs for their assorted strategic bombing missions against Japanese targets. Although his primary duty was on the flight line at Guam, Weber also performed duty on the islands of Saipan and Tinian. On one occasion, he had the opportunity to locate and visit his younger brother Tony, who was serving with the Army on Saipan. Mark Weber explained, “After the war came to an end, the 458th participated in a show of force during the Japanese surrender in Tokyo Bay on September 2, 1945. On that day, my father flew on a B-29 loaded with bombs because the U.S. did not entirely trust the Japanese.” He added, “After the Japanese officially surrendered, my dad’s bomber dropped its bombs in the ocean during the return flight.” The 34-year-old staff sergeant returned to the United States on February 6, 1946, receiving his honorable discharge at Jefferson Barracks in St. Louis a week later. Reuniting with his wife in Russellville, he soon reopened Weber Produce and began the process of reintegrating into his community. In the years after the war, he and his wife raised two sons, John and Mark. In 1954, Weber erected a new building and expanded his offerings to include products such as feed, grains, seeds, veterinary supplies in addition to performing custom grinding and mixing. His spirit of public service included involvement in many worthwhile projects. In later years, he served on the local school board, helped establish the Lion’s Club in Russellville and was a long-time member of the town council. Additionally, he helped form the Russellville Rural Fire Association and was a volunteer firefighter for many years. “In 1973, the business was sold to Neal and Mary Crawford, who changed the name to Crawford Feed and Farm Supply,” noted Russellville’s sesquicentennial book of the former Weber Produce. A member of Trinity Lutheran Church in Russellville, Weber was 94 years old when he passed away in 2006. He and his wife are interred in Enloe Cemetery west of Russellville. When pondering his father’s participation in World War II, Mark Weber noted that little was ever spoken about his experiences in the Western Pacific, but he demonstrated several commendable traits that made him an individual worthy of admiration. “Dad always struck me as someone that was solid as a rock,” he said. “Although I am sure he had things that he worried about, if and when he did worry, he never revealed it around us.” He added, “He was also a man of great faith, and I always looked up to him because I was proud of everything he represented and accomplished.” Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Hidden History of Cole County,” “Moments on the Moreau,” and “Beyond the Moreau.”  After returning from World War II, Weber re-opened Weber Produce, which he operated until his retirement in 1973. Courtesy of Mark Weber  The mascot for the ball teams of the California R-1 School District became the “Pintos” in 1925. The 1926-1927 boys’ basketball team, pictured, were the first to wear the Pintos name on their jerseys. Front row, from left: Savanne Roth, Paul Zey, August Kiso, Hobart Sullen. Back row, from left: Norman Viveon, Adam Zey, Mitchell Tising and Coach R.R. Conrad. Conrad, a veteran of World War I, was also the school’s vocational agriculture teacher and the individual who first suggested the name Pintos for their mascot. Courtesy of Beverly Tising Meyer Mascots represent a point of pride and school spirit for many educational institutions. For the California R-1 School District in Moniteau County, their mascot, the Pinto horse, can be traced back to a basketball team from the years prior to the Great Depression in addition to a school building and alumni association. “Public school in California was conducted at two different locations in 1869,” wrote Dr. Larry Fletcher in his book “Moniteau County Schools History: 1810-1984. “One school operated in the east half of the brick schoolhouse (later named Humboldt School) with one teacher in charge while two teachers held public classes at the Old Baptist Church for six-month terms.” In 1872, the “Old Aurora School” was constructed as a replacement for the Humboldt School. During the years that followed, the Humboldt School was used by African American students in the period prior to desegregation of the school districts that began in the mid-1950s. It is believed that Aurora School received its name from Captain Charles M. Gordon, a Union veteran of the Civil War who worked as an attorney in California and served as the local school commissioner. Following discussion with the board of education regarding a name for the school, he suggested “Aurora,” because he believed it represented “The Dawn of Education.” The Aurora Alumni Association, founded in 1990 by graduates of Aurora School, preserved a chronological history of the school district throughout the years. In their souvenir booklet from the 100th annual meeting of the alumni group in 1990, several articles highlight the continued growth of the district. “1914: Three story high school building was built south of Aurora School building, with the gym, office and 11 classrooms,” the souvenir booklet noted. The Aurora School continued to serve the students living in the California area for the next few years. Then, in 1925, there began talk of choosing a mascot to represent the school’s spirit and pride. R.R. Conrad, a vocational agriculture teacher at California High School, witnessed many occasions when it was discussed what the school’s mascot should be. After listening to various ideas that included a number of different animals, it was Conrad who received credit for naming the mascot. “The California High School athletes were given the name ‘Pintos’ Tuesday,” explained the California Democrat on November 12, 1925. “Coach Carl H. Kuhn about two weeks ago asked the public to name his team and many good suggestions were made.” The article continued, “Those selecting the name were impressed with the one suggested by R.R. Conrad and this one was chosen. Hereafter the team will bear the name Pintos.” A U.S. Marine Corps veteran of World War I, R.R. Conrad joined the faculty of California High School in 1921, where he remained for the next 14 years. He resigned his position as an educator in 1935 to accept an appointment with the Soil Conservation Service during the height of the Great Depression. Regardless of his departure to pursue other professional endeavors, he had left an enduring mark on the Pintos. The California High School basketball team played their first game as Pintos on November 13, 1925 in a game against the Versailles team. But it was not until more than a year later that their uniforms reflected their new identity. “There was a yearbook published (in 1927) named the ‘OWL,’ and in the book is an article about the basketball team,” noted the 1990 souvenir booklet from the Aurora Alumni Association. “Dr. L.L. Latham bought the team new uniforms, and in the picture of the team the word ‘Pintos’ is printed across the front of the jerseys.” Mitchell Tising graduated from Aurora High School in 1927 and a member of the original basketball team to first wear the Pintos jerseys. In the years prior to his passing, he recalled that the girls’ teams were named the “Pinettes,” but this name was later dropped when sports for girls were disbanded. However, girls’ sports were later reorganized and continue to use the Pintos name. The coloring of the early Pintos mascot has also changed over the years, with the earlies iterations featuring a black horse with white spots. This color scheme has since been updated to align more with school colors and the pinto is often pictured as being white with blue spots. The Old Aurora School burned on January 25, 1929, only a few years after the Pintos received their memorable name. The Humboldt School was closed in later years while new buildings were erected to house the necessary space for the California School District. In recent years, the high school has been moved to a campus on the western end of California. The Old Aurora School has been gone for decades but the Aurora Alumni Association continues to share the district’s rich history. The Pintos name, now a century old, serves as a reminder of the Old Aurora School and the enduring pride of the students and graduates of California High School. In a poem written shortly after the Old Aurora School burned in January 1929, alumni Eva M. Cavers, class of 1896, shared her affections for the educational institution, a portion of which is printed below: “The school where we formed many strong lasting friendships, Some ripened in romance when school days were past, When having completed the full course of study, We passed through her doors, graduated at last. But now she is gone, we no longer behold her, A cloud of dark smoke like a great velvet pall, Is draped o’er the walls which stand blackened and crumbling, And soon in embers will totter and fall…” Jeremy P. Ämick is the author of the historical compilation “Beyond the Moreau.”  Pintos pride remains alive and well at California High School, as demonstrated by this large painting in the hallway of the school. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick ‘The grand cure’ - “Trader” Vic Witthaus known for more than seven decades as Centertown businessman4/12/2026  “Trader” Vic Witthaus is pictured in the late 1950s unloading appliances from a railcar in Centertown. His store, located near the railroad tracks, relied on rail shipments for much of its inventory. Known for his business acumen and community involvement, Witthaus operated his appliance store until 1996, capping a remarkable 77-year career. He died in 1999 at the age of 96. Courtesy of Lucille Rosenmiller. The childhood of “Trader” Vic Witthaus was shaped by hardship, but also by resilience. Losing his father at a young age, Witthaus was raised by a mother determined to provide stability despite difficult circumstances. That early exposure to adversity—and the work ethic instilled by his family—would later define his remarkable career as one of Mid-Missouri’s most enduring businessmen. Victor J. Witthaus was born Aug. 17, 1903, in Gasconade County, the grandson of German immigrants who were part of the wave of settlers that shaped much of central Missouri’s agricultural and commercial landscape in the late 19th century. His father, Adam Edward “William” Witthaus, worked as a teamster, operating a delivery wagon in the Hermann area. Tragedy struck in October 1911. “William Witthaus, the teamster … died Monday as a result of his injury,” reported the Advertiser-Courier on Nov. 1, 1911, after a gasoline tank fell and crushed his foot. He was just 38 years old. Only eight at the time, young Vic was forced to grow up quickly. Two years later, his mother remarried Justin Cramer, a widowed farmer. The family relocated to a farm near Sandy Hook before eventually settling in Centertown. There, Witthaus attended local schools and began to envision a future far beyond the fields. By age 16, he had already set his sights on business ownership. “He was just a young man when he concluded to venture into the grocery business,” the Missouri Observer noted in 1949. “He begged his mother for enough money to get started,” though she reportedly had little confidence in his abilities at the time, noting his greater interest in fine saddle horses. Undeterred, Witthaus moved forward. In May 1919, he opened his first store in Centertown in partnership with Charles Higgins. Within a year, he sold his share, and by 1921 had purchased a local drugstore from Pat McKenna—an early sign of the entrepreneurial instincts that would define his career. “We continue to sell clean groceries, fine candies, cigars, tobacco, drugs, toilet articles, etc.,” he advertised in the Central Missourian on Dec. 30, 1921. “Yours for business—Victor Witthaus.” As Centertown grew alongside improved transportation routes and increased commerce in the early 20th century, Witthaus adapted. With his store located near both a primary roadway and the railroad, he and his wife, Amelia—whom he married in December 1922—began serving lunches to travelers and locals alike. The couple became active members of the Centertown Baptist Church, further embedding themselves in the fabric of the community. Witthaus’s business ventures continued to expand. He later opened a store in Russellville, and his operations shifted locations several times within Centertown as he pursued new opportunities. His willingness to buy, sell and adapt became a hallmark of his success. Beyond business, he also played a role in local civic life. In 1938, the Jefferson City Post-Tribune reported that Witthaus, then a Centertown merchant and former county Republican chairman, had been appointed to the Cole County Highway Commission—an unpaid position that reflected both his standing in the community and his interest in public service. Never one to stand still, Witthaus later purchased a service station in Centertown, relocating it in 1942. After selling that venture, along with his Russellville store, he turned his attention to farming, acquiring land near McGirk in 1948 where he raised prize horses—one of his lifelong passions. A defining chapter of his career began in 1950. That year, Witthaus purchased the J.R. Craig store building across from his existing business and opened an appliance store. With post-World War II America experiencing rapid growth in consumer goods and home technology, the timing proved ideal. Soon earning the nickname “Trader Vic,” he became known for his knack for making deals and his ability to connect with customers. Appliances arrived by rail, unloaded near his storefront—a visible reminder of how closely tied his business was to the rhythms of the community. His success was widely recognized. In 1959, the California Democrat reported that Witthaus had earned an all-expenses-paid trip to Nassau in the Bahamas through outstanding sales of Philco products—a testament to his skill as a merchant. Despite his professional success, personal hardship again touched his life. In early 1980, his wife Amelia, his partner of more than 57 years, passed away. Later that year, he married Della Swinney, a widow who shared his commitment to community and business. The two continued operating the appliance store together for several years. After Della’s death in 1994, Witthaus remained at the helm of his business until 1996, when he finally retired—closing a remarkable 77-year career in commerce. He died in 1999 at the age of 96 and was laid to rest in Centertown Cemetery. “Work is the grand cure for all the maladies and miseries that ever beset mankind—honest work, which you intend getting done,” wrote Scottish philosopher Thomas Carlyle in 1866. Few lives illustrate that sentiment more clearly than that of “Trader” Vic Witthaus. From a boy shaped by early loss to a businessman whose name became synonymous with Centertown commerce, his legacy endures, not only in memory, but in the buildings that still house businesses today and in the community he helped shape through a lifetime of work. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations "Hidden History of Cole County," "Moments on the Moreau," and "Beyond the Moreau."  Vintage advertisement for the Witthaus I.G.A. Store highlights the range of goods offered, including groceries, meats, ice cream and soda, while thanking customers for their patronage. With locations in both Russellville and Centertown, the ad reflects the expansion of “Trader” Vic Witthaus’s business operations and his role as a prominent Mid-Missouri merchant during the mid-20th century. Remember the ‘Scorpion’ - JCHS graduate Laughton Smith perished aboard U.S. Navy submarine in 19684/10/2026  Laughton “Smeed” Smith, a 1960 graduate of Jefferson City High School, is pictured during his years of service in the U.S. Navy. Known for his outgoing personality and leadership, Smith went on to attend the U.S. Naval Academy and later served as a communications officer aboard the nuclear submarine USS Scorpion. He was among the 99 crew members lost when the vessel disappeared in the Atlantic Ocean in May 1968. The early 1960s marked a tense and uncertain period on the global stage, as the United States and Soviet Union navigated the height of the Cold War. Beneath the surface of the world’s oceans, American naval forces carried out critical intelligence-gathering missions—often in silence and secrecy. But such missions were not without risk. Tragedy struck in April 1963 with the loss of the USS Thresher, a nuclear-powered attack submarine that sank during deep-diving tests, claiming the lives of 129 sailors and civilians. The disaster prompted sweeping safety reviews across the Navy’s submarine fleet, though not all vessels were immediately updated. Still, the inherent dangers of submarine service did little to deter one young Missourian. Laughton Smith, a Jefferson City native, came of age in the 1950s with the same values shared by many of his generation—faith, service and community. He attended a local Presbyterian church and was active in the Boy Scouts, even teaching boating and canoeing skills at summer camps. Despite his formal name, those who knew him best often called him “Smeed,” a nickname that reflected his approachable and easygoing nature. A brief biography published in the 1965 edition of The Lucky Bag, the U.S. Naval Academy yearbook, described him as possessing “a winning personality, with a bright smile and heartwarming enthusiasm.” After graduating from Jefferson City High School in 1960, Smith initially enrolled at the University of Missouri–Columbia when he was not selected as the principal nominee to the U.S. Naval Academy. That changed in the summer of 1961, when he received his own appointment. “There were four of us from Jefferson City who graduated in 1960 and ended up going to a military academy,” recalled his close friend Jim Ayers. “Laughton and I went to the Naval Academy, while another classmate attended the Air Force Academy.” Smith graduated from the academy in 1965 and entered the Navy as a lieutenant junior grade. He later reported to Groton, Connecticut, the hub of the Navy’s submarine force, where he began specialized training for nuclear submarine service. On April 8, 1967, Smith married Jane Victoria Graham at Immanuel Episcopal Church in Wilmington, Delaware, her hometown. Shortly thereafter, the young couple settled in Norfolk, Virginia, where Smith received orders to report to the USS Scorpion. The submarine, a 3,500-ton nuclear-powered vessel, was considered a formidable component of the Atlantic Fleet. Yet behind its polished image, the Scorpion faced ongoing mechanical concerns. According to the book Blind Man’s Bluff: The Untold Story of American Submarine Espionage, crew members sometimes referred to the vessel as “USS Scrap Iron” due to persistent issues, including oil leaks and seawater intrusion through critical seals. Compounding the concern, the Scorpion had not yet undergone a comprehensive overhaul to incorporate key safety improvements identified after the Thresher disaster. In early 1968, the USS Scorpion deployed into the Atlantic as part of Cold War operations. On May 21, the submarine transmitted its last known communication while returning to Norfolk. Six days later, on May 27, the U.S. Navy declared the vessel missing. At the time, the submarine was believed to be approximately 365 miles southwest of the Azores, navigating a region marked by deep ocean trenches and underwater mountain ranges. In a letter to his sister, Smith had mentioned ongoing issues with the submarine’s communications equipment, noting that he had been busy working to restore it. However, speculation surrounding the disappearance quickly spread. Some theorized the submarine had been struck by a Soviet torpedo, while others believed it may have collided with an underwater ridge or suffered catastrophic mechanical failure. After an extensive five-month search, the wreckage of the USS Scorpion was located more than 10,000 feet beneath the surface, roughly 400 miles southwest of the Azores. All 99 crew members, including Smith, were lost. Initial Navy findings were kept classified for decades. It was not until 1993 that a report suggested the most likely cause: the submarine may have been destroyed by its own malfunctioning torpedo. “The torpedo was released from the tube, became fully armed and sought its nearest target—Scorpion,” the report concluded. For those who knew him, the loss of Laughton Smith was deeply personal. “Of the four of us from the Class of 1960 who went on to military academies, I was the only one who survived my period of service,” Ayers reflected. “Laughton’s loss truly struck a chord within me because he was my best friend in high school, and our families were so close. He was only 27 when he disappeared.” Ayers emphasized the importance of remembrance—not just for Smith, but for all who served. “I want to make sure that the community is aware of his service to the nation and remembers his sacrifice, along with everyone else who died in service.” Though decades have passed, the story of the USS Scorpion remains a sobering reminder of the risks faced by those who serve beneath the sea. For Jefferson City, Laughton “Smeed” Smith is more than a name tied to a historical tragedy. He is a son of the community—a young man whose life reflected promise, dedication and courage. And though his story ended far from home, his legacy continues to resonate. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations "Moments on the Moreau" and "Beyond the Moreau."  The USS Scorpion, a nuclear-powered attack submarine commissioned in 1960, is shown during its early years of service. Assigned to Cold War intelligence and patrol missions, the vessel disappeared in the Atlantic Ocean on May 21, 1968, with 99 crew members aboard. After months of searching, the wreckage was discovered more than 10,000 feet below the surface southwest of the Azores, marking one of the Navy’s most mysterious submarine losses. |
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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