The following are selected articles from a Newspaper titled, "The Higbee News" which was issued out of the town of Higbee, in Randolph County, Missouri from the years 1888 through 1953. The editors and owners were a wonderful man by the name of W. H. Welch and his son H. Scott Welch. This paper covered the Higbee area and also a great deal of the northeastern part of Howard county. It is because of my tremendous admiration for this father and son, that I am transcribing this paper and putting it in a more readable format, so that this work may again be brought to light, to entertain, and teach a whole new generation of the descendants of the inhabitants and neighbors of a little town called "Higbee." The copyright notice at the end of this transcript is there for the sole purpose of keeping this work free to the public, and to ensure that it is not harvested by a fee-based corporate genealogy site, or published in any format for profit. If you decide to use the information from this transcription, PLEASE LIST ME AS THE SOURCE, rather than the paper. My transcription is another generation removed from the microfilm, and would thus be a third generation copy of the original paper. I wouldn't want my own possible errors in transcription, blamed on the editors of the paper. For proper documentation, a researcher should obtain a photocopy of the microfilm for their own permanent records, and use my transcript as a guide or index. The microfilm is available for interlibrary loan through the State Historical Society of Missouri, and a copy is also on file at the Moberly Public Library, generously donated by the Higbee Historical Society. When the Higbee Historical Society disbanded, their material was donated to the Randolph County Historical Society and is still available there. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thursday, 19 Aug 1926, Vol 40 No. 16, pg. 2 Col 1,2,3&4--OUR HUNTSVILLE LETTER By W. T. Dameron--(edited by compiler)--The Rev. W. A. Todd and family of Tulsa, Okla., arrived here Saturday on their way to northeast Missouri to visit Rev. Todd's parents, and remained over Sunday. Rev. Todd is a former pastor of the Baptist church here. Rev. Davidson, pastor of the Baptist church is on a vacation and Rev. Todd attended services of the Methodist church, and through the courtesy of the pastor, the Rev. Hunt, Rev. Todd preached to the congregation. To many of his hearers his sermon was a disappointment, in that it was almost in its entirety an attack on the Catholic church or Catholicism. Wm. W. Shaw, age 57, a native of the county, while seated in a chair on the porch at his home in east Huntsville Saturday afternoon was attacked with heart trouble, falling from his chair and dying in a few minutes, or before medical assistance could be had. He was apparently in good health when he ate his dinner and took his seat on the porch. He was a member of the Huntsville Methodist church, a good man and citizen. Funeral and burial took place Sunday afternoon at Mt. Hope church east of town. He leaves a wife and one son, two brothers--Alex Shaw, of Huntsville, and Chas. Shaw of Missouri City, and two sisters, Mrs. Geo. Morris of Kansas City, and Mrs. W. Ramsey of Huntsville, and a large number of relatives. William Finnell, who suddenly dropped dead at his home in Stoutsville a few days ago was a native of Silver Creek township, this county. He was the youngest son of William and Jane Finnell, pioneers of that part of the county, and was born three miles west of Mt. Airy, about 80 years ago. He was a brother of the late James Finnell, who died at Higbee many years ago, and the late Morgan and John Finnell. Mrs. Eliza Green, now of Clifton Hill, is the only one of the immediate family now living. She is in her 78th year. Wm. Finnell moved to Monroe county back in the middle '70's and married there. When a young man he was a 'medium' and could call up messages from the 'spirit world,' and could make tables walk about the room. When I first began going to social parties and dances in the neighborhood we boys would try to get "Billy" Finnell to give exhibitions of his 'spiritual powers,' or call up departed spirits, but he seldom did so, as he seemed to have an aversion to such things. The last time I saw him make a table 'walk' was at a social party at the old Finnell homestead back in the early '70's. I asked him one time how he did it and he said that he did not know. "Dug" Nichols, a fine fellow and successful farmer, residing a few miles north of here, was in town last week. Dug is not only a good man, but is a jolly widower and a good catch for some nice lady. Some three or four years back we did our best through the late Moberly Democrat to assist Dug along matrimonial lines, but our friends would not stand hitched for some reason when a 'prospect' was being led to the alter of hymen. But as a representative now of the NEWS we are still willing to continue the fight four our good friend. So if the eyes of some beautiful young maid or handsome or sprightly widow falls upon these lines and is matrimonially inclined and is willing to adorn a beautiful country home and at the same time can cook a good meal, she can send a note to the "Huntsville Matrimonial Bureau" and postmaster Martin will see that it is delivered to the "Bureau" instanter, and the campaign for a wedding tour will be on. Our candidate says he is just 47 and never grows older, and by the way, does not look that old, yet he helped haul the ties for the C. & A. railroad when it was constructed through Higbee, but Dug had not reached his majority then by four or five years. But he still claims to be under the "Osler age" and can prove it to the satisfaction of any "sweetie" who wants a good looking and up to date husband. Our friend, W. S. Brockman, farmer and sub mail carrier for years past, residing south of town, hailed us on the street the other day. After a friendly greeting, it being the first time we had met each other since my return from Oklahoma, Mr. Brockman said: "I had a rather singular dream about you and me the other night, and I would like to have you interpret it if you can." I assured my friend that I was no interpreter of dreams, nor did I have any faith in dreams or idle fancies of any kind, especially when the digestive organs were not functioning as they should, but that I would sure listen to a dream about myself, good or bad, "so fire away," I replied. "Well,'" said Mr. Brockman, "it's a short one, but a rip-roaring one. I dreamed you and I got on a big drunk, and we had a glorious and shouting time. Now that is true as gospel and I can not imagine what made me dream such a thing." Well, I had to laugh. Then I asked my friend if he had made any "home brew" recently. He declared he had not but said he had been reading about "bootleggers." Well, I had to laugh again, but Will assured me that he did not have me in mind when reading about bootleggers, as he knew I didn't "tote" the stuff in my hip pocket, and that he never saw me drunk. So Mr. Brockman's dream will have to go unsolved for the present, and I can not imagine what could happen to us in the future to cause that dream to materialize, unless it would be to see Senator Reed elected president. I have never been drunk but three times in my life. The first round that I had in my cups was when I was about 7 years old. It was hog-killing time. Mother had made a whisky stew for the men folks at dinner time. I surreptitiously got hold of the half gallon cup containing what stew was left after all the grown folks had drank of it, and while they were at the table eating. I drank too much. In fact, when mother discovered what I had done I was too "limber" to stand alone, and too sick to eat anything. But after a hard and long "throw up" and a good lecture, I was ready for the next meal. My second "drunk" was after I came of age, and my third and last "high lonesome" or wrestle with John Barleycorn, occurred on a fishing trip on the Chariton river 52 years ago. It would take too much space to tell about those two drunks, and I pass. My friend Brockman has been a sober man all his life. he is a good man, fine citizen and law abiding and how he got mixed up in a big drunk (in a dream) with me is a mystery. It gets my goat. Uncle Tom Bagby was in town one day last week. As indicated in a former letter to the NEWS, Uncle Tom is past 83 years of age, and I will venture the assertion that there is not a man in the county of his age that does as much hard work as he. Uncle Tom is a real "dirt" farmer. He has plenty of this world's goods, but he thinks he would soon pass out if he quite hard work on his farm. He drove in town in his two-horse buggy, garbed in his work clothes, with patch upon patch to cover his aged body that harbors an honest old heart. Like many men by nature, Uncle Tom is somewhat passionate and impulsive, but when the other fellow treats him right he is sure to be treated right in return, and he is the very embodiment of honor and integrity. Our banks had just closed for the day when Uncle Tom drove into town. He had a little business in the bank, but it did not disconcert him any. While conversing with Uncle Tom upon a few topics he related this circumstance, which shows one side of his nature; It was during the Roosevelt administration, in 1907, I think, when a financial panic struck the country, and when the banks throughout the country averted, perhaps, the greatest financial crash in the history of the nation by refusing to honor checks of their depositors except from $5 to $10, just enough to buy groceries. Uncle tom had been making deposits in the bank to meet an obligation of several hundred dollars that fell due on a certain date, and he came to town on that date to pay it, not knowing what action the banks had taken to stop any run on them if one was started. Uncle Tom went into the bank to get the cash to meet his obligation and he was told that the directors of the bank had just concluded a meeting in which it was agreed to not honor checks for cash only for sums as above stated. That was something unheard of by Uncle Tom and aroused his passion. To have a friendly and safe bank to refuse to honor his check when he had the cash in its vault was too much for him. Friendly explanations and pleading by bank officials would not alleviate his chagrin, and with characteristic firmness he said: "When I was with Bill Anderson during the war I learned how to get money when it was needed, and I need my money now." The bank officials, said Uncle Tom, "got their heads together and handed out the cash to me." Of course that was one of his bluffs. Uncle Tom was with Bill Anderson a while during the war before he joined the regular army under General Sterling Price, on his last raid through Missouri. But don't get it into your head that Uncle Tom ever robbed a citizen or helped raid a bank while he was with Anderson, but he saw others do it. He was with Bill Anderson when he made a raid on Huntsville and yanked thousands of dollars of the county's money from a safe and robbed a number of citizens, but Uncle Tom kept in the background while the robbery was going on. A traveling salesman by the name of Damon was shot and killed during the raid by two of Anderson's men. Damon came out of the old Randolph Hotel wearing a big belt with a U. S. buckle, and was standing on the corner of Main and depot streets where the Farmers and Merchant's Bank is now, and when two of Anderson's men rode toward him he ran and they shot him through the body, and he fell near the alley, and died after he arose and crawled in to the hotel from the rear. Among those who were robbed of money was the late Capt. W. T. Austin, who was a school mate of Bill Anderson when the Anderson family resided her a few years prior to the Civil War. Capt Austin went to Anderson and told him that he had been robbed of several hundred dollars. Anderson had Mr. Anderson(should be Austin) to point out the men who had robbed him, and true to his old school mates and friends here, he had the men return the money to his friend, Capt. Austin. Chas. L. Lewis, wife and daughter, Miss Joella, of Jackson, Miss., arrived here last week on a visit to his brother, W. M. Evans, of the Farmers & Merchants Bank, and family. Both families motored to Columbia Sunday and spent a portion of the day with their aged uncle, John Evans. On their return home they stopped at Fayette and paid another uncle, J. B. Shores, a short visit. Our old-time friend, Dr. W. O. Hawkinson, of Roanoke, stopped in town a short while Monday on his way to Moberly where he has some patients. the doctor is a very busy physician, having a large practice in the territory of his native town. He is one of the few charter members now living of the Roanoke Band, organized 38 years ago, and by the way, one of the best bands in the state. We learned from Dr. Hawkinson that Kenneth, the 10-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Will Spotts of near Mt. Airy, while using a rope swing last Sunday, accidentally fell from it, breaking his left arm very badly. The doctor gave the lad first aid and advised his parents to take their son to a hospital at Moberly for further treatment, which they did. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright notice: All transcriptions in this email are copyrighted by their creator. They may not be reproduced on another site or on any printed or recorded media, CD, etc. without specific written permission from Kathy Bowlin. Although public information is not in and of itself copyrightable, the format in which it is presented, transcriptions, notes & comments, etc. is. It is however, quite permissible to print or save the files to a personal computer for personal use only. Permission is granted to public libraries, and genealogical and historical societies to print and bind for the use of their patrons. Kathy Bowlin Additions, corrections, comments welcome.