Springboard to NASA - Air Force experience leads to Missouri veteran's career as astronaut5/31/2026  Thomas Akers of Eminence, Missouri, is pictured in his official NASA portrait. A veteran of four Space Shuttle missions, Akers accumulated more than 800 hours in space and was selected for induction into the U.S. Astronaut Hall of Fame in recognition of his contributions to America's space program. Courtesy of Tom Akers. The career of Eminence, Missouri, resident Thomas Akers has—in quite literal terms—risen to meteoric heights. A veteran of four Space Shuttle missions during the 1990s, Akers recently received one of the highest honors in American spaceflight when he was selected for induction into the U.S. Astronaut Hall of Fame. The recognition reflects a remarkable journey that began in the Missouri Ozarks and was propelled by the training, discipline, and opportunities he found in the United States Air Force. Born in St. Louis on May 20, 1951, Akers explained that his parents made the decision to move to the community of Eminence when he was four years old to find a quieter location to raise their family. “I am a twin and we have an older brother as well,” said Akers during a recent interview. “My father worked in St. Louis as a carpenter and was only home on weekends while we were growing up,” he added. Graduating in 1969 as valedictorian of his high school class, he enrolled at the University of Missouri-Rolla to pursue a degree in applied mathematics, a subject he enjoyed. Additionally, he explained, the math teacher at Eminence High School planned to retire in the next few years, which was a position that interested young Akers. He went on to earn his bachelor's degree in 1973 and his Master of Science degree in 1975. “I managed to pay for my college through scholarships and working as a park ranger at Alley Spring during the summer months,” he said. “My wife and I were married while I was still in college and shortly after I finished my education, I was talked into becoming the high school principal at Eminence and did that for the next four years.” A few months into his employment as principal, he and his wife welcomed their first child, David, into the world. Three years later, an Air Force recruiter visited the high school to recruit their math teacher to fill technical vacancies. The teacher was not interested in pursuing a military career, but Akers read the brochures left behind and decided the Air Force might offer a beneficial opportunity. “I didn't want to be a high school principal the rest of my life and chose to enlist in May 1979,” he said. “My first three months in the Air Force were spent at Officer Training School at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas followed by my first duty assignment at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida.” Throughout the day, Akers was an air-to-air missile analyst but in the evenings taught math and physics courses at Troy State University. In 1980, while in the midst of a frenetic work schedule, his family grew with the addition of his daughter, Jessica. It was also during this period that the airman received an incentive ride in the backseat of an F-4 Phantom supersonic jet—a thrilling experience that not only inspired his desire to fly, but would also lead to his becoming qualified to apply for the astronaut program. “In 1982 I was selected to attend Air Force Test Pilot School at Edwards Air Force Base in California,” he said. “In one of the buildings on the base, they had photographs of all of the Apollo astronauts hanging on the wall. Seeing those photos really got me interested in the potential of becoming part of the astronaut program.” Returning to Eglin in 1983, Akers worked on weapons development programs for several types of aircraft. He applied for the astronaut program through the Air Force in 1985 but was not selected. The following year he again went through the application process; however, the program was temporarily suspended after the Challenger disaster. “In 1987, I again applied for the program and was selected,” he said. “As part of the selection process, there were approximately 100 individuals interviewed for a final class of only 15 astronaut candidates.” As Akers explained, he remained a member of the Air Force but was assigned to NASA. After approximately one year of astronaut candidate training at Johnson Space Center in Houston, he participated in his first spaceflight in October 1990, assisting in the deployment of an interplanetary probe. The Space Shuttle Endeavour made its maiden flight in May 1992 with Akers aboard for his second mission. During that flight, known as STS-49, he participated in the first and only three-person spacewalk in NASA history, helping capture and repair the Intelsat VI communications satellite. Akers would return to space in 1993 on the landmark mission that repaired the Hubble Space Telescope, helping install corrective optics that restored the telescope's ability to provide clear images of the universe. The astronaut again traveled to space in 1996, finishing his NASA career after accumulating more than 800 hours in space and nearly 30 hours of spacewalking time over the course of four missions. His accomplishments earned numerous honors throughout his career and helped establish him as one of the most accomplished spacewalking astronauts of the Space Shuttle era. “I left NASA in 1997 and the Air Force assigned me as commander of the ROTC program at the University of Missouri-Rolla,” Akers explained. “I retired from the Air Force two years later at the rank of colonel.” The veteran remained at Rolla for a number of years, serving as an instructor in the university's mathematics department until retiring in 2010. He and his wife now reside on a small farm near his hometown of Eminence. In 2026, Akers received one of the highest recognitions in American spaceflight when he was selected for induction into the U.S. Astronaut Hall of Fame. The honor recognizes astronauts whose achievements have made lasting contributions to the nation's space program and places Akers among an elite group of pioneers who helped advance human exploration beyond Earth. Reflecting on his fascinating experiences, Akers acknowledges his professional achievements were made possible through military service, a supportive family, and faith. “The greatest benefit I learned in the Air Force is the value of teamwork—each person relies on everyone else to accomplish the mission,” he affirmed. “Additionally, in the scientific and engineering fields, you don't place much value on positions or titles but rather on competencies and abilities, all of which helped prepare me for NASA.” He added, “And all of this would not have happened without the support of my wife, Kaye. She understood the risks during the entire time I was flying and performing space flights but never let on as to any worry. However, once I finally stopped flying, she told me how worried she had actually been.” From the hills of Shannon County to the frontiers of space, Thomas Akers' journey demonstrates how education, perseverance, military service, and teamwork can carry a person far beyond the horizons of their childhood dreams. His induction into the U.S. Astronaut Hall of Fame ensures that his contributions to America's space program will continue to inspire future generations of explorers. Jeremy P. Ämick is a Missouri author and historian dedicated to preserving state and local history through books, articles, and the Missouri History Moments project.  Akers left his position as principal at the high school in Eminence to pursue a career in the Air Force. He retired in 1999 at the rank of colonel. Courtesy of Tom Akers
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Enduring resolve - Kathryn “Kate” Schubert’s life balanced between heritage, heartbreak, and family5/31/2026  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. Despite outward stability, the marriage 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 by quiet significance. It 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.” Smiles on the “Mother Road” - Along the Mother Road: A Family Journey Through Route 66 in St. Robert5/30/2026  Route 66 Neon Park in St. Robert, Missouri, features restored vintage signs and a military tank honoring the region’s later connection to Fort Leonard Wood. Though the famed highway predates the military base by more than a decade, both became deeply intertwined in shaping Pulaski County’s history and identity. Photos courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick  The restored Motel St. Louis sign stands among the attractions at the Route 66 Neon Park in St. Robert. Vintage neon signs like these once guided weary motorists to food, lodging, and fuel during the golden age of travel along America’s legendary Mother Road. During a year in which Americans are reflecting upon the approaching 250th anniversary of the nation’s founding, another major milestone is also approaching across the highways and backroads of the United States. In 2026, the legendary Route 66 , known as America’s famed “Mother Road,” will celebrate its 100th anniversary. Nearly a century after its creation, the historic roadway continues attracting travelers from around the world who seek a glimpse into the nostalgia, freedom, and the roadside culture that once defined American travel. Recently, my wife Tina, our grandson, and I made a quick trip into Pulaski County to explore two of Missouri’s most recognizable Route 66 destinations — the Route 66 Neon Park in St. Robert and the ever-popular Uranus Fudge Factory. For many Americans, Route 66 was more than a highway. Officially established in 1926, the route stretched approximately 2,448 miles from Chicago to Santa Monica, California, connecting small towns, rural communities, diners, gas stations, motor courts, and roadside attractions along the way. During the Dust Bowl and Great Depression, the highway became a vital migration route for thousands heading westward in search of opportunity. While World War II unfolded, it carried military traffic, supplies, and travelers across the nation. In the ensuing decades, it helped shape family vacations and featured neon signs, roadside diners, and the romance of the open road. “Route 66 is the most famous road in the world,” noted author Michael Wallis in his acclaimed book Route 66: The Mother Road, a phrase echoed repeatedly by historians and preservationists who continue working to preserve its rich past. Missouri holds a special place in that history. The state contains more than 300 miles of the original roadway and has become one of the leading states in Route 66 preservation efforts. Throughout communities like Cuba, Lebanon, Rolla, Waynesville, and St. Robert, visitors can still find remnants of vintage America carefully preserved alongside modern development. Our first stop was the Route 66 Neon Park in St. Robert, a striking attraction that immediately evokes the golden era of automobile tourism. The park features restored neon signs from historic Route 66 businesses throughout Missouri. According to the City of St. Robert, the attraction became the first dedicated neon sign park developed along the entire Route 66 corridor. The carefully restored signs once advertised motels, garages, liquor stores, restaurants, and roadside businesses that served travelers during the highway’s peak years. One of the most recognizable displays is the massive vintage Motel St. Louis sign advertising “44 ultra modern units,” a reminder of the era when roadside motels competed for motorists through elaborate neon advertising and promises of modern conveniences. Standing near the giant white “66” sculpture overlooking the park is a military tank, an important reminder that while Route 66 predates Fort Leonard Wood, the military installation would later shape the region’s identity in profound ways. “The original Route 66 passed through the area in 1926,” notes one historical account of St. Robert, “well before Fort Leonard Wood was established in 1940.” The presence of the highway later proved critical in supplying transportation access to the rapidly expanding military base during World War II. The nearby communities of St. Robert and Waynesville became deeply connected to both Route 66 travel culture and military traffic during the war years. Historians have noted that Waynesville quickly evolved into a bustling service center for soldiers and travelers alike, housing restaurants, bus stations, hotels, and entertainment venues associated with Fort Leonard Wood. “Route 66 brought prosperity and travelers to Pulaski County long before the interstate era,” noted the Pulaski County Tourism Bureau in describing the region’s historic significance. Today, the tank displayed beside the neon signs symbolizes that shared connection between the Mother Road and the military history that later followed. My grandson was fascinated by the military display and the towering vintage signs, while Tina and I enjoyed reading the interpretive plaques explaining the history behind each restored attraction. Even in daylight, the park possesses an unmistakable nostalgic atmosphere. One can easily imagine weary travelers pulling off the highway decades ago in search of food, gasoline, or a room for the night beneath glowing neon lights. Visitors exploring the St. Robert stretch of Route 66 can also stop for a meal at the Route 66 Diner, which continues the long tradition of roadside dining associated with the Mother Road. Diners and cafés formed an essential part of Route 66 culture, offering travelers a hot meal and a brief pause before continuing westward. Not far from the neon park stands another attraction that reflects Route 66’s enduring roadside spirit and embracing the wildly colorful name of the Uranus Fudge Factory. With its giant sign, playful humor, gift shops, fudge counters, sideshow museum, and over-the-top roadside atmosphere, the attraction has become one of the best-known modern tourist stops along Missouri’s section of Route 66. The business embraces a tradition that has always defined the Mother Road: the celebration of roadside Americana. Route 66 was never merely about transportation. It was about discovery. Travelers encountered giant dinosaurs, quirky museums, unusual gift shops, eccentric restaurants, and attractions specifically designed to capture attention from passing motorists. Uranus carries that tradition into the twenty-first century with modern humor and social media appeal while still embodying the spirit of classic roadside entertainment. Here, visitors can explore the sideshow museum featuring unusual displays such as two-headed animals and even watch live performances that include a sword-swallowing entertainer reminiscent of vintage carnival attractions once found along America’s highways. The attraction also highlights how Route 66 communities have adapted through time. Though Interstate 44 eventually bypassed much of the original roadway, communities like St. Robert and Waynesville refused to allow their Route 66 heritage to disappear. Instead, local preservation groups, tourism officials, and business owners have embraced that identity, helping preserve the area’s unique role in American travel history. That fascination extends far beyond the United States itself. International travelers from Europe, Japan, Australia, and elsewhere continue making pilgrimages along surviving stretches of Route 66 each year. “Route 66 remains an international symbol of freedom and the American road trip,” noted the National Park Service in describing the roadway’s continuing cultural influence. Route 66 has become deeply woven into American popular culture through songs, films, books, postcards, television programs, and tourism campaigns. From Nat King Cole’s iconic “Get Your Kicks on Route 66” to Hollywood depictions of roadside America, the highway continues inspiring generations who never even experienced its heyday firsthand. As our family made the drive home through the rolling Ozark hills, it became clear why Route 66 continues captivating people nearly one hundred years after its creation. In a world increasingly dominated by hurried interstate travel and digital navigation, the Mother Road still invites travelers to slow down, stop at roadside attractions and appreciate the stories hidden along America’s highways. For our family, the journey to St. Robert was more than a short outing. It became a reminder that history is still alive along Route 66. It is a legacy that continues to glow through restored neon signs, is preserved in roadside diners, honored beside military memorials, and celebrated through attractions that continue making travelers smile along the Mother Road. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.”  The colorful Uranus Fudge Factory near St. Robert continues the quirky roadside attraction tradition long associated with Route 66. Featuring fudge, novelty shops, a sideshow museum, and live entertainment, the destination has become one of Missouri’s most recognizable modern stops along the historic highway. ‘That’s How They Did Things - ’Veteran Shares Story of WWII Service with the Navy in the Pacific5/29/2026  World War II veteran Clifford L. Holt of Holts Summit, Missouri, served as a U.S. Navy gunner aboard USS LSM-498 in the Pacific during the closing months of World War II. Following the war, he became New Bloomfield's first African American chief of police and later spent more than three decades serving local children as a school crossing guard. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Amick. Editor's Note: This article was originally written following an interview with World War II veteran Clifford Holt. Holt passed away on May 21, 2019, at the age of 94. The article is presented in memory of his military service and lifelong commitment to the New Bloomfield community. Clifford Holt became something of a local celebrity in and around the community of New Bloomfield, Missouri. He enjoyed escorting area children safely to school by serving as a crossing guard and, many years earlier, was the town's first African American chief of police. When interviewed for this story, the World War II veteran displayed few signs of slowing down and was often found in a local convenience store swapping stories about his days in the military over a cup of coffee with several of his close friends. Born in 1925 in the near-forgotten Callaway County community of Dixie, Missouri, Holt recalled coming of age in a small African American community and attending a local school held inside a building he described as little more than “an old house.” “When I graduated the eighth grade, I went to work on a farm, that is until I turned 18 and got my draft notice in the mail,” he recalled. The young man then traveled to St. Louis to take a physical and, while undergoing the military induction process, was asked whether he wanted to become a soldier or a sailor. “I told them that I wanted to be in the Army, so they put me in the Navy,” he chuckled. “That’s how they did things back then.” With his branch of service now identified, Holt was transferred to Norfolk, Virginia, to complete several weeks of basic training. “When I was in Virginia, they were working on the boat that I was supposed to be assigned to,” said Holt. “So while that was happening, they sent me to a Navy base in Oklahoma until it was finished being built and it was time for me to report to the ship.” During his stay at the base in Oklahoma, the sailor attended a naval gunnery school and, because of his ability to hit targets, was appointed to serve as the rear gunner aboard his new ship. According to naval records, USS LSM-498 was completed by the Brown Shipbuilding Company and launched on April 7, 1945, followed by its commissioning a month later. The ship, Holt explained, was classified as a Landing Ship Medium (LSM) and designed to transport troops and cargo in support of the war effort in the Pacific. After commissioning, the ship was sent to support U.S. forces during the Battle of Okinawa, an 82-day campaign that became the largest amphibious assault of World War II. During this battle, Japan lost more than 77,000 soldiers while Allied forces suffered more than 14,000 fatalities. As Holt recalled, one of the greatest threats to the safety of the men aboard the LSMs came from Japanese aircraft. Though prepared to defend the ship with his 20mm gun mounted on the stern, he said the opportunity never presented itself. “We went over there to fight, but most of the time the Japanese planes were so far off you could hardly see them,” he said. “The biggest threat we encountered were those stormy seas—they seemed worse than a tornado. Those waves would push you way up in the air and then would drop out from under you and slam the ship down into the water. Let me tell you, that just about made everybody seasick.” At the close of their service in Okinawa in June 1945, Holt's ship and the other LSMs were preparing for the planned invasion of Japan. On Aug. 9, 1945, Holt recalled their vessel operating along the southern coast of Japan when they witnessed a historic event that helped bring the war to an end. “We were close enough to see when they dropped the second atomic bomb,” said Holt. “That was really something to see.” Days later, following Japan's surrender, USS LSM-498 remained in the Pacific as part of the occupation forces until April 1946, when the ship returned to San Diego and Holt was discharged from the Navy. Returning to Mid-Missouri, he married, raised two children and worked as a truck driver until suffering a heart attack in his mid-40s. “I then went to work as a deputy for Callaway County for several years until I was hired as the chief of police for New Bloomfield, which I did for 28 years,” he said. Following his retirement from law enforcement, Holt remained deeply involved in his community. For more than three decades, he served as a crossing guard for New Bloomfield Elementary School, becoming a familiar and beloved figure to generations of local children. His service was so appreciated that, upon his retirement, the school district honored him by naming the crosswalk he supervised in his honor. He was also remembered as New Bloomfield's first African American chief of police, a distinction that reflected both his pioneering role and his dedication to public service. With all the veteran was able to see and experience during his months of service that carried him across the Pacific during wartime, he proudly stated that one of the most memorable moments of his military career was demonstrating his marksmanship abilities during training. “Yes, the one thing the military taught me was that you'd better learn to respect others or they're going to give you a hard way to go,” he grinned. “But mostly, what I'm proud of is that I showed them how I could shoot a gun.” He added, “I qualified by hitting the airplane target the first time around, and that's why they made me a gunner. It was probably because of all the rabbit hunting I did back when I was a kid that I was good at it—or at least I thought I was,” he chuckled. Clifford L. Holt passed away on May 21, 2019, at the age of 94. Looking back on his life, it is clear that his legacy extends far beyond his military service. From serving aboard USS LSM-498 during the closing months of World War II, to breaking barriers in local law enforcement, to protecting schoolchildren for more than 30 years as a crossing guard, Holt dedicated much of his life to serving others. His story stands as a reminder that some of the most enduring contributions are made not by famous figures, but by ordinary citizens whose quiet acts of service leave a lasting impact on their communities. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the military compilation "Show-Me Veterans."  USS LSM-498, a Landing Ship Medium, carried troops and supplies in support of Allied operations in the Pacific during World War II. Clifford Holt served aboard the vessel as a 20mm gunner during the Battle of Okinawa and remained with the ship during the occupation of Japan following the war. U.S. Navy photo. Life interrupted - From Enon church pews to factory floors, the life of Harold Shikles was cut short5/29/2026  Harold Loyd Shikles (1931–1951) is shown here in his late teenage years, standing beside an automobile that symbolized the independence and promise of postwar youth. Raised on a Moniteau County farm during the Great Depression, he attended Lincoln School near Enon and later Russellville High School. A member of Enon Baptist Church, Harold was working at the International Shoe Company factory in Eldon when illness cut his life short at age 19. Courtesy of Karen Farris O’Farrell Harold Loyd Shikles was born in 1931 near Russellville, Missouri, at the very beginning of the Great Depression. It was a time when farm families measured survival not in comfort but in endurance. Crops were uncertain, markets were unstable, and every able hand mattered. He was the son of Rado N. Shikles and Gladys B. (Bond) Shikles, both names long rooted in the Enon and Spring Garden countryside. Harold and his sister, Wilma, began their education at the one-room Lincoln School near Enon. In that modest schoolhouse, students of multiple grades studied together under a single teacher, sharing books, lessons, and responsibility. From there, Harold transferred to Russellville High School, carrying a steady discipline learned at home and in the country classroom. Life on a Depression-era farm required early maturity. Children were expected to help feed livestock, repair fences, haul grain, and adapt to whatever the season demanded. Harold’s father was a farmer, and Harold grew up knowing that work was simply part of daily life. Faith became an early part of that upbringing. At just 12 years old, Harold became a member of Enon Baptist Church, affirming the beliefs that shaped his family and community. The depth of the Shikles family’s roots is preserved in the 1980 volume Moniteau County Missouri History, where Harold’s mother offered a glimpse into the family’s story. “Rado and I have lived on our farm in Moniteau County near Enon, Missouri, for 45 years. Rado was born in Cole County near Enon,” she wrote. She added, “I was born in Cole County near Spring Garden, Missouri.” A surviving photograph of Harold shows a young man standing beside an automobile, dressed in work clothes, confident and composed. For teenagers in the late 1940s and early 1950s, a car symbolized independence and possibility. World War II had ended a few years earlier and factories were hiring. Opportunity seemed within reach. The April 19, 1951, edition of the Eldon Advertiser offered a snapshot of his young adulthood: “He attended grade school in the Enon community and Russellville High School. At the time he was taken ill, he was employed at the International Shoe Company factory at Eldon.” Those simple lines reveal a young man more than willing to step into the workforce and join many in the area who transitioned from farm life to steady industrial employment. Yet behind that progress was a quiet struggle. Harold’s death certificate noted that he had suffered from his liver ailment for two years. Even as he worked, worshiped, and planned for the future, he endured a prolonged illness. For two years, he carried his burden without withdrawing from responsibility. When his condition worsened in April 1951, he was admitted to Latham Hospital in California, Missouri. At the time, Latham Hospital served as one of the region’s primary medical facilities, treating families from Moniteau and surrounding counties. His death certificate was signed by Dr. Kenyon S. Latham, a Washington University School of Medicine graduate and longtime community physician. The hospital itself would later become part of local history. The Feb. 27, 1972, edition of the Sunday News and Tribune reported, “Dr. Kenyon Latham still has his office in the Latham Hospital, although the hospital itself was closed two years ago. The hospital was closed because the staff and the building failed to qualify it for Medicare payments, according to Dr. Latham.” Changing federal standards and financial pressures brought an end to the small rural hospital. Decades later, the property was demolished, and the site eventually became Latham Memorial Family Park—a transformation from hospital corridors to open community space. But in April 1951, the hospital still stood as a place of hope for those battling illness or injury. Despite medical care, Harold Loyd Shikles died on April 10, 1951. He was only 19 years old. Nineteen is widely recognized as an age defined by beginnings. It is a point when young men imagine careers, families, and futures. Harold had grown up during the hardship of the Great Depression and reached adulthood in a time of renewed national optimism. He had joined his church as a boy, studied in a one-room schoolhouse, worked at a regional factory, and stood ready to build something lasting. That he did all of this while quietly battling illness makes his short life even more poignant. He was laid to rest in Spring Garden Cemetery in Miller County, near the same countryside that had shaped his parents and grandparents. His gravestone bears the simple span 1931–1951 and the beloved designation of “son.” Harold Loyd Shikles did not live long enough to accumulate a lifetime of accomplishments. Instead, his legacy rests in something more silent and is the example of a young man shaped by Depression-era hardship, strengthened by family and church, and resilient even in illness. He belonged to a generation forged in difficulty but prepared for opportunity. In remembering Harold, we remember more than one life cut short. We remember a farm family rooted in Moniteau County for decades, a one-room schoolhouse near Enon, a church congregation that nurtured faith, and a young man who stood on the threshold of adulthood with promise still ahead of him. The years he lived were but few, yet it was a life that mattered. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.” ‘What Needed to Be Done - ’Veteran Served as Navigator on Aircraft Patrolling Gulf Coast During WWII5/28/2026  World War II veteran Lon Douglas served as a navigator in the U.S. Army Air Forces, helping conduct reconnaissance patrols along the Gulf Coast in search of enemy submarines. In this photograph, Douglas holds a display case containing military medals earned by both himself and his father, a World War I combat veteran. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Amick During World War II, the military draft became the great equalizer, as young men from nearly every cross section of American society found themselves called to serve. Yet when Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7, 1941, Lon Douglas never waited to be drafted. Leaving behind his employment with the Burroughs Corporation in St. Louis, he joined several friends and voluntarily enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Forces despite the sobering realities of war. “I thought we ought to do something,” he once recalled. “It seemed like the country could use our help.” Douglas later joked that one reason he chose the Army Air Forces was the possibility of working around aircraft while also enjoying the prospect of “a warm bed to sleep in at night.” Following his induction at Jefferson Barracks in St. Louis in February 1942, Douglas completed portions of his initial training at Tarrant Field near Fort Worth, Texas. He was then transferred to Foster Field, Texas, where he was classified for armament training. “I was sent to Matagorda Peninsula Army Airfield to receive training on machine guns,” he explained. “The base was basically a sandbar off the coast of Texas with an airstrip and some barracks, and they used it to train pilots in fighter aircraft like the P-39s, P-40s and P-51s.” There, the young airman learned to service and maintain .50-caliber aircraft machine guns, removing them from airplanes, performing repairs, reinstalling them and then carefully sighting the weapons. After serving in armament work for approximately a year, Douglas decided he wanted to fly. “That’s when they sent me to Santa Ana, California, for a couple months of pre-flight training,” he said. “Since the pilot training program was filled with applicants, they offered me either bombardier or navigator training … so I chose navigator.” His new assignment launched another rigorous period of instruction. Douglas was first sent to Indian Springs Army Airfield near Las Vegas for training aboard B-17 bombers, learning both defensive gunnery operations and aircraft systems. He later attended several weeks of classroom instruction at Drake University in Iowa, where cadets studied the mathematics and technical procedures required of navigators. “Several months later, I received assignment to San Marcos Army Airfield in Texas, and that’s where we started flying,” he recalled. “We were assigned to a C-47 transport aircraft, and I began performing my navigational duties every day using all the instruments and sometimes navigating by the stars when we flew at night.” Douglas explained that many of their flights followed a large triangular route from San Marcos to Tyler, Texas, then west toward New Mexico before returning to base. “They were getting us prepared for the South Pacific, I imagine,” he said. Soon, however, the mission changed. Douglas and his fellow crewmen began spotting sunken ships in the Gulf of Mexico, many believed to have been destroyed by enemy submarines operating dangerously close to the American coastline. Rumors circulated that Japanese submarines might be active in the region, prompting military authorities to increase aerial reconnaissance patrols along the Gulf Coast and into the Caribbean. “Instead of sending us overseas, we began flying to Florida and back—and sometimes down to the Yucatán—to conduct reconnaissance on the coastline and search for anything that looked like a Japanese submarine,” Douglas explained. “If we saw anything, we radioed back and reported it to the Navy, but from the air there was really no way to tell if they were ours or theirs.” On several occasions, Douglas recalled seeing survivors from torpedoed merchant ships stranded in the water below. The flight crews could do little beyond radioing the ships’ locations to naval authorities. When the war ended in 1945, Douglas remained at San Marcos performing miscellaneous duties while awaiting discharge orders. He was eventually transferred to Scott Field, Illinois, where he received his discharge in December 1945. Returning to St. Louis, the 23-year-old veteran resumed his civilian career with the Burroughs Corporation. “Fortunately, I was able to return to my job with Burroughs and married my fiancée, Mary Lou, in 1948,” he recalled. “I stayed with the company for 42 years, retiring as a district products manager in 1984. That’s when we moved to Jefferson City, and we’ve been here ever since.” Although proud of his service, Douglas admitted there remained painful memories associated with the war. “It just felt like we were doing what needed to be done at the time,” he said. “We were young, and we accepted it.” He particularly remembered friends who never returned home. “I remember my friend Bob Barron, who was flying over Tokyo Bay in a P-51 Mustang after the war and had to bail out,” Douglas said. “The parachute came down on top of him, trapping him, and he drowned.” Reflecting on his wartime experiences years later, Douglas quietly added, “If there is one thing I resent about my service in World War II, it is situations like that … knowing not all of my friends got to come back.” Lon J. Douglas passed away on January 19, 2022, at the age of 100. Remembered by family and friends for his quiet patriotism and humility, he represented a generation that answered the nation’s call during one of history’s most difficult periods. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of "Wings of a Patriot," biography of the late Major General Don D. Pittman.  Following his discharge from the U.S. Army Air Forces in December 1945, Lon Douglas returned to St. Louis, resumed his civilian career with the Burroughs Corporation and later married his fiancée, Mary Lou, in 1948. Courtesy of Lon Douglas  As part of a massive wartime recruitment campaign, the Citizens War Manpower Committee placed more than 100 billboards throughout the Kansas City region in 1944 encouraging civilians to seek employment in essential war industries. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Amick The War Manpower Commission was established by President Franklin D. Roosevelt during the early years of World War II. The agency called for the “elimination of wasteful labor turnover in essential activities … the direction of the flow of scarce labor where most needed in the war program … (and for) the maximum utilization of manpower resources,” explained an article published in the October 29, 1943 edition of the St. Cloud (Minnesota) Times. As the war intensified, industrial centers across the United States struggled to maintain production levels. Thousands of skilled workers had either entered military service or relocated to defense-related positions elsewhere, creating serious labor shortages in many critical war industries. “Our country saw fit to locate at Kansas City, the Heart of the Nation, the production of large quantities of the most important munitions of war,” wrote Kansas City Mayor John B. Gage in a proclamation dated May 6, 1944. He continued, “At the very time when the greatest battles of this war are to be fought—when planes, engines, explosives, landing craft and other vital material of war produced here are most needed—a shortage of workers fully to man the war plants has developed.” Under the auspices of the War Manpower Commission, Mayor Gage moved to address the growing labor shortage by establishing the Citizens War Manpower Committee, which sought to recruit an additional 30,000 workers for Kansas City-area war plants. The mayor appointed Elmer C. Rhoden, president of the Fox Midwest Amusement Corporation, to serve as chairman of the committee. Only a week after the committee’s formation, members approved an “advertising approach” designed to “appeal to older men who may fear they are not adequate to the jobs that are open.” The committee also emphasized the patriotic duty of workers employed in non-essential industries. “We must appeal to both men and women who are in non-essential or less-essential jobs and convince them it is their duty to surrender their present security and take up work on the production line in the manufacture of the implements of war,” committee members noted. The committee’s advertising division was headed by W.J. Krebs of the Potts-Turnbull Advertising Company and included volunteers from a variety of Kansas City-area advertising specialties. Together, they launched a multifaceted publicity campaign featuring advertisements on buses and streetcars, billboard displays, notices enclosed with utility bills and short promotional film clips shown before movies in local theaters. One of the campaign’s most visible slogans urged citizens to “Get a War Job.” To support the influx of workers, officials also promoted housing assistance throughout the city. “The services of the War Housing Centers are available to assist employees of essential industries in finding suitable quarters,” explained the booklet War Workers Guide: Greater Kansas City. “Anyone who has a vacancy can make a real contribution by listing their vacancy with the War Housing Centers ….” With many local men already serving overseas, the committee additionally sought to reassure women who might otherwise hesitate to enter the workforce because of childcare concerns. “Mothers who feel impelled to take a war job can rest assured their children will be well cared for,” the booklet stated. “There are 32 child care centers operated by the public school system, which can be expanded to meet future needs.” A centralized War Jobs Headquarters was established at 1120 Grand Avenue in Kansas City, where applicants were interviewed, evaluated and referred to essential industries by representatives of the U.S. Employment Service and area war plants. Several major companies—including Pratt & Whitney Aircraft, Hercules Powder Company and North American Aviation—also opened local employment offices to process applicants directly. The committee’s efforts quickly produced results. In his final report to Mayor Gage on July 31, 1944, Chairman Elmer Rhoden wrote, “During the period of the Citizens Committee campaign, 90,000 persons responded to the appeal, 60,000 of these were referred to employers, and 30,000 were placed in jobs.” Rhoden noted that the success of the campaign would not have been possible without the assistance of numerous civic organizations, businesses and volunteers. He further observed that the majority of the new workers came from within Kansas City itself, “proving the claim that the labor supply was available … and the effectiveness of the committee’s campaign.” Pratt & Whitney Aircraft likewise credited the campaign with helping sustain wartime production of its Wasp family of aircraft engines, which powered many American military aircraft during World War II. L.C. Mallett, assistant general manager of Pratt & Whitney’s Kansas City operations, wrote to Rhoden on July 13, 1944, “The members of the committee are to be congratulated on their performance. There is no question in our minds that their efforts assisted all war industries in this community and that the results could not have been attained without their assistance.” Following the campaign’s success, Rhoden quietly stepped away from his voluntary wartime role and returned to private industry. Yet before doing so, he offered a final reflection on what the committee had accomplished during one of the nation’s most demanding periods. “Now that the Citizens War Manpower Committee has completed its task,” Rhoden wrote, “your chairman feels he can resign his responsibilities with sincere and profound thanks to all those who served with him, and with renewed faith in the belief that the citizens of Kansas City can accomplish anything they set out to do.” Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the upcoming book "415 Days," which is the biography of World War II POW Wilburn Rowden.  The Citizens War Manpower Committee produced a variety of advertisements urging Americans to “Get a War Job” in support of the nation’s World War II production efforts. The campaign helped recruit thousands of workers for Kansas City-area defense industries in 1944.  Retired Missouri National Guard Sgt. Maj. David Mauldin reflects on his military career, which began with being drafted into the U.S. Army during the Vietnam War in 1970 and eventually spanned 38 years of service. Courtesy of Shawn C. Johnson For Jefferson City resident David Mauldin, the decision to enter military service was not entirely his own. During the height of the Vietnam War, thousands of young American men were drafted into the armed forces through the Selective Service System, a process that profoundly shaped an entire generation. What began for Mauldin as an unwanted obligation eventually evolved into a military career spanning nearly four decades. And despite his youthful disillusionment with certain aspects of the Vietnam-era Army — particularly what he viewed as a lack of mentorship and concern for younger soldiers — Mauldin ultimately found purpose and fulfillment through years of service in the Missouri National Guard. Born in 1950 in Wichita, Kansas, Mauldin was raised in a patriotic household. His father had served in the U.S. Navy during the Second World War, helping instill in him an appreciation for military service and love of country at an early age. The family later settled in Reed Springs, Missouri, where Mauldin graduated from high school in 1968 before enrolling at the School of the Ozarks in Point Lookout. While attending college, Mauldin married his wife but soon found himself losing interest in academics. “I found that school really wasn’t for me at that time,” Mauldin recalled, “and wound up losing my college deferment.” At the time, many college students avoided immediate military service through educational deferments. Once a student left school, however, he again became eligible for the draft. In February 1970, Mauldin received the letter many young men feared during the Vietnam era. “I got a letter of greeting from President Nixon in the mail,” he joked, referring to his draft notice ordering him to report to the Kansas City Military Entrance Processing Station for an induction physical. “I knew I would be going to Vietnam, so it really wasn’t too big of a shock,” he added. After successfully completing the entrance requirements, Mauldin was sent to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, where he underwent eight weeks of basic combat training. “All of the initial training we received was geared toward service in Vietnam,” Mauldin explained. “Our drill instructors knew we all would be going.” He remained at Fort Leonard Wood for additional advanced individual training as a personnel specialist. “I didn’t choose that MOS,” Mauldin laughed. “They just informed me during the last week of basic training that’s what I was going to be.” As his training neared completion, Mauldin was informed he would soon deploy overseas. “I was told I couldn’t have a weekend pass to go home and see my wife before shipping out,” he recalled. According to Mauldin, the first sergeant warned him he would be marked absent without leave if he left post without authorization. “I told him I was going,” Mauldin said with a grin. “What were they going to do to me — send me to Vietnam?” He received the pass. At the end of June 1970, Mauldin departed for Vietnam after first spending several days in Oakland, California, where troops received jungle warfare orientation and transition training before deployment overseas. “At the base, they could simulate the heat we would experience in Vietnam and had built a jungle village for us to train in,” Mauldin recalled. “We learned to clear areas and check for booby traps. It gave us at least some idea of what to expect.” After a stop in Yokohama, Japan, Mauldin arrived in Bien Hoa, Vietnam, near Saigon. “The heat hit you like a blast furnace stepping off the plane,” he remembered. Following in-processing, he was assigned to the 1st Field Force Headquarters and flown aboard a C-130 transport aircraft to Nha Trang. There, Mauldin received what soldiers jokingly referred to as their “hero gear,” including his M-14 rifle and combat equipment. He was then assigned duties as a courier responsible for transporting important documents throughout various regions of Vietnam. The assignment required him to travel dangerous and often unprotected routes, including areas near Cam Ranh Bay. “You’d routinely encounter enemy fire, but you just kept going,” Mauldin stated. “I didn’t know the nature of the documents I carried — only that they had to be delivered to a certain person at a certain place.” After serving approximately six months as a courier, Mauldin transferred to headquarters operations, where he provided clerical support and drove for the adjutant general. While serving there, he suffered a severe knee injury. “It turned out to be much more serious than I first thought,” he explained. “I had to be evacuated to the 483rd Air Force Hospital at Cam Ranh Bay.” Even while hospitalized, the dangers of war remained ever-present. Mauldin recalled lying in traction as medical staff threw mattresses over patients during enemy rocket attacks in an effort to protect them from flying shrapnel. “I never felt so helpless in my life,” he admitted. “Every other time I had come under attack, I at least had my rifle.” Eventually evacuated back to Fort Leonard Wood, Mauldin underwent surgery and spent approximately three months recovering. In June 1971, he was assigned to a medical company where he tracked and accounted for soldiers assigned to medical hold status. Later that year, despite repeated encouragement to reenlist in the active Army, Mauldin chose to separate from military service. “I really wanted nothing more to do with the military when I got out,” he stated candidly. “As far as I was concerned, I had left a good knee in Vietnam.” But military life would not entirely leave him behind. Introduced to the Missouri National Guard by his brother-in-law and able to retain his rank, Mauldin enlisted in the Guard in 1972. What followed was a lengthy and rewarding military career far different from his early experiences during the Vietnam War. Over the years, he rose through the ranks and eventually attained the rank of sergeant major before retiring in 2008 with 38 years of military service. “I enjoyed my time in the Guard and was proud to see that it was much more family-oriented — with a focus on mentoring and career development,” Mauldin said. He added that helping younger soldiers became one of the most rewarding aspects of his later career. “Over the years, I watched many of the ‘pups’ I mentored move through the ranks and accomplish great things,” he reflected. “I’d like to think I somehow helped them in their careers.” Jeremy P. Amick is author of "Dinner Music in a Combat Zone," biography of the late Vietnam veteran Roger Buchta.  David Mauldin stands outside his “hooch” while serving in Nha Trang, Vietnam, circa 1970. Drafted during the Vietnam War, Mauldin served as a courier and headquarters soldier before later continuing a lengthy career with the Missouri National Guard. Courtesy of David Mauldin  A 28-year-old Virginia Hogg is pictured in 1948 when employed as a fifth and sixth grade teacher for the school system in Russellville. Her father, Truman Hogg, died when she was eight followed by her and her mother moving to Enon. Hogg graduated from Russellville High School, earned her education degree at Warrensburg and taught at schools in Mid-Missouri and Kansas City. She later became the wife of Maurice Gjovig, who passed away after they were married only six years. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick At the tender age of eight, Virginia Hogg was living in Jefferson City with her parents. The joyful memories that should have filled this moment in her life were shattered when her father, a veteran of World War I, was only 35 years old when he unexpectedly died from carbon monoxide exposure in their home. Despite this tragedy, Hogg came to enjoy the education she received in her youth. The teachers who provided her with positive memories helped to inspire her to live a life in service to others as an educator. Shortly after her birth on March 22, 1920, her father moved the family to St. Louis to work in the banking industry. He eventually chose to return to Mid-Missouri and settle in Jefferson City, where he died on July 19, 1928. After this tragic and unexpected loss, her mother moved back to the farm in Enon where she herself had been raised several years earlier. This would help ensure she had a close and loving support system of family available while she raised her daughter. It was near Enon that Hogg attended a one-room school and, after graduating the eighth grade, transferred to Russellville High School. She and her mother were also active members of the Enon Baptist Church, where young Hogg often demonstrated her talents as an accomplished pianist during various events. “Miss Virginia Hogg went to Jefferson City Thursday as a member of the Russellville High School debating team,” the California Democrat printed on February 27, 1936. Following her graduation in the late 1930s during the waning years of the Great Depression, she took steps to continue pursuing her educational goals. In June 1942, she traveled to Jefferson City to take the teachers examination. The Moniteau County Herald reported on September 24, 1942, “Virginia Hogg of Enon has enrolled in the Warrensburg Teachers College, according to the college report.” The following year, on August 5, 1943, the Eldon Advertiser noted, “Miss Virginia Hogg returned home Saturday from Warrensburg where she has completed a course for a two-year elementary teaching certificate. She has been employed to teach the Grant School the coming year.” Throughout the next several years, Hogg continued teaching at Grant School (west of Enon) while attending the summer term at the college in Warrensburg. She went on to earn her bachelor’s degree in education and was hired to teach fifth and sixth grade classes at her alma mater in Russellville in late summer 1947. By 1949, she had moved to Lake Ozark and was employed as a sixth-grade teacher at the School of the Osage. Dedicated to continually improving her educational background, she traveled to Denver in the summer of 1950 to complete classes at the University of Colorado. A major step in her career occurred in late 1953 when she moved to Independence and went on to teach at several elementary schools within the Kansas City school system. “Mrs. Grace Hogg of Enon wishes to announce the marriage of her daughter, Virginia, to M.E. Gjovig,” shared the Eldon Advertiser on December 3, 1964. “The Rev. Dale DeLong performed the ceremony Monday morning at the Christian Church in California, Mo.” At the time of their marriage, Virginia was 44 years old. Although her husband had a son and daughter from a previous marriage, the newlywed couple did not have any children together. Her husband was employed as the chairman of the board of the Grain Belt Transportation Company in the Kansas City area. Unfortunately, they were only able to enjoy a little more than six years of marriage since Maurice Gjovig died of a heart attack in early 1971. The 69-year-old was laid to rest in Overland Park, Kansas. Virginia eventually retired from teaching and remained in the Kansas City area until 1979, at which time she moved back to the Enon area to help care for her aging mother. For the next five years, she and her mother enjoyed the final time they were given together. The Eldon Advertiser printed on March 29, 1984, “Mrs. Grace Hogg, 89, died Saturday at Charles E. Still Hospital after a lingering illness. She was a lifelong resident of Enon. Mrs. Virginia Gjovig, her daughter, is her only survivor.” Having lost virtually everyone who had showered her with love over the years, Virginia found solace in many social activities including those associated with Enon Baptist Church. On October 26, 2013, the 93-year-old retired educator passed away and, like many of her family, was laid to rest in Enloe Cemetery. “The meaning of life is to find your gift,” said famed Spanish artist Pablo Picasso. “The purpose of life is to give it away,” he added. Purpose came to be inextricably woven into the drive of a once young woman from Enon who sought to become an educator. Losing her father when she was only a child and a husband after only a few years of marriage, Virginia never wavered in sharing her gift of teaching with elementary age children in several Missouri school systems. Jeremy P. Ämick is the author of the historical compilation “Beyond the Moreau.”  Grace Hogg (formerly “Russell”) is pictured in late 1920 holding her daughter and only child, Virginia. Courtesy of Jeremy P. Ämick  Pin Oak Baptist Church near Mt. Sterling, Missouri, pictured amid the rolling hills of central Missouri. The church was associated with the German Baptist movement that spread across Missouri during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The German Baptist Association of Missouri reportedly held a meeting there in May 1918. Photo courtesy of Rick King. Author’s Note: This is the final installment of two articles highlighting the history of German Baptists in Missouri
Evidence of the German Baptist denomination’s activity in Missouri occasionally surfaced in local newspapers throughout its many decades of ministry. “There will be no services at the German Baptist church in this city Sunday next,” reported the California Democrat on Nov. 3, 1898, “the pastor, Rev. Kroesch, is attending the German Baptist association at Kansas City.” A History of the Concord Baptist Association and Its Churches explained that “As early as 1852, there was an interest in ministering to the German population that was entering the area. In 1889, the first German Baptist Church of Moniteau County was established by Mt. Pleasant Church.” Three years later, Rev. Kroesch reported the church had established a German Sabbath school and their services were “well attended.” Reporting on his death from “stomach trouble” in 1905, the Moniteau County Herald noted that “Rev. Kroesch was pastor of the German Baptist church north of the city seven years and it was through his efforts that the little mission church was built in California, two blocks east of the courthouse square.” The Higginsville Advance reported in 1908 that “The German Baptist Association of Missouri, which convened in Concordia during the first part of the week closed last night.” The article added that visitors from congregations in Higginsville and Alma enjoyed the hospitality of the Concordia congregation. The association remained active into the twentieth century. On March 17, 1915, the St. Louis Star and Times announced that the Missouri German Baptist Association would hold its annual convention at Ebenezer Baptist Church in St. Louis. The pressure to abandon German identity intensified dramatically during World War I. German-language newspapers shut down, schools dropped German language programs and organizations removed the word “German” from their names to avoid suspicion or hostility. The Kansas City Star reported in 1917 that the “German Baptist Mutual Protective Association” changed its name to the “Tri-County Mutual Protective Association” because members objected to the word “German” after the declaration of war. Yet the denomination’s ecclesiastical structure did not disappear immediately. The German Baptist Association of Missouri continued holding meetings during the war years, including a gathering at Mt. Sterling, Missouri, on May 20, 1918. Even into the 1920s, German Baptist organizations remained active across the Midwest and Plains. Reporting on a denominational gathering in 1925, the Baptist newspaper Word and Way described the “German Baptist Association of the Southwest” as “comprising the German Baptist Churches of Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri and Eastern Nebraska.” By the late 1920s, references to the German Baptist Association of Missouri largely disappeared from Missouri newspapers and denominational notices. The silence reflected the culmination of trends that had reshaped German-American churches for decades. Rather than disappearing through a single merger, the German Baptist Association of Missouri appears to have gradually blended into mainstream Baptist life as congregations adopted English-language worship and younger generations became increasingly immersed in American culture. The broader denomination followed a similar course nationally. In 1944, the General Conference of German Baptist Churches in North America officially dropped the ethnic designation “German” and became the North American Baptist Conference. Today, the German Baptist presence in Missouri survives mostly through scattered newspaper references, denominational histories and the memory of churches that once served immigrant communities across the state. Though often overshadowed by Missouri’s larger German Lutheran and Catholic traditions, the German Baptists represented another important thread in the rich religious tapestry of German-American life in Missouri. Jeremy P. Ämick is author of the historical compilations “Moments on the Moreau” and “Beyond the Moreau.” |
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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