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 were 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. 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. 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. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 1--MT. PLEASANT ITEMS--Robert Wilbanks and family moved to the George Winn farm last week. We are glad to welcome them as new neighbors. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 1--CAL ROBB HAS LEG BROKEN--Cal Robb, who moved to Mexico from this place several months ago, had his right leg broken Thursday of last week while at work at the A. P. Green Fire Brick Co. plant, a rock which he was putting in a kiln falling on him. A letter to his father, Benton Robb, received yesterday, stated that the injury was paining him very much, and that the doctors thought the limb might have to be reset. Cal's many Higbee friends will be sorry to learn of his bad luck, and all join the NEWS in the hope that he will soon be as good as new. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 1--SANTA CLAUS LETTERS NEXT WEEK--We are compelled to leave out a big lot of Santa Claus letters this week, but they will appear in our next issue--in ample time for the old gentleman to get them, even if he has to borrow the paper. If you have any such letters please get them to the office by noon Monday. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 6--SOUTH OF TOWN ITEMS--Mrs. Thomas Hern was taken seriously ill Sunday night, but is improving now. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 6--SOUTH OF TOWN ITEMS--Mr. and Mrs. Mart Mead were Sunday guests of Mr. and Mrs. Omar Asbury. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 6--SOUTH OF TOWN ITEMS--Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Blansett and children were Sunday guests of their daughter, Mrs. Wood Warford. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 6--SOUTH OF TOWN ITEMS--Mrs. Jake Atkins and son, Olin, Mrs. Hattie Quick and son, Roy, were Sunday guest of John Mead and daughters. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 6--SOUTH OF TOWN ITEMS--Mr. and Mrs. Ben Feland had as Sunday dinner guests Mr. and Mrs. Thos. Hern, Mr. and Mrs. Mart Mead, Mrs. Lou Fisher and children, Mrs. Lewis Snell and son of Rocheport and Miss Helen Atkins. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 1 Col. 6--SOUTH OF TOWN ITEMS--Mrs. John Colly of near Rucker died Tuesday of pneumonia, aged 63 years. She leaves besides her husband five sons, Richard, George, Dave, Elmer and Frank, and two daughters, Dolly and Lizzie, besides many other near relatives. Interment was made Thursday at Perche. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 2, Col. 1--OUR HUNTSVILLE LETTER, By W. T. Dameron--(edited by compiler)--Mrs. Mary F. Gill, one of the good old ladies of the county, died at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Emma Agee, here on December 8, of paralysis, at the age of 83 years. She was the widow of A. Fisher gill, who died here about ten years ago. Mrs. Gill was born in St. Louis in 1843, and was married to Fisher Gill, who was a native of St. Louis county, during the Civil War. Soon after their marriage, or in 1866, they moved to this county and settled on a farm two miles south of Randolph Springs, where they resided for many years before they moved to Huntsville, and where Mr. Gill held a probate court clerkship for several years under Judge B. S. Head. Mrs. Gill was a long-time member of the Baptist church of this city, and prominent in church work. She leaves three children--Mrs. John H. Reed and Mrs. Emma Agee, of this city and one son, the Rev. Dr. Everett Gill, a prominent minister of the Baptist church, and general director of missions in foreign fields, with headquarters at Edinburg, Scotland; also ten grandchildren and three great-great-grandchildren. (should probably have been great-grandchildren) Her funeral was held at the Baptist church at 2:30 Friday, conducted by her pastor, the Rev. F. P. Davidson. Burial in the city cemetery. Thursday, 16 Dec 1926, Vol 40, No 33, Pg 2, Col. 1,2&3--OUR HUNTSVILLE LETTER, By W. T. Dameron--(edited by compiler)--"Today, December 8, 54 years ago, there was about three inches of snow on the ground," said Hon. W. T. Heathman to a bunch of friends in Day's drug store. "The reason I remember it so well is that it's Joe T. Kirby's birthday, who was born December 8, 1872. I was eight years old at the time and I was at the home of Joe's parents a few hours after the event transpired, and I walked through the snow there. My mother had gone there earlier in the day, and bade me stay at home and not to go out. But they used to tell it on me when a boy that I had a desire to regulate everything in the neighborhood--even in family affairs. When I heard of Joe's birth the thought struck me that I wanted a namesake, and I struck out through the snow to the home of Joe's father, Clifton Kirby, who resided not far from our home. My arrival there was a surprise to mother and others present. I demanded that the baby be given my name. This created a laugh, of course, but I could se no humor in it, and I stood pat on my demand. Well, my father's full name was William Lowry Heathman, and I wanted Joe named "William Thomas Kirby." Joe's mother was a cousin of mine, and for that reason, I presume, I pressed my demand. But it seemed that the family had agreed on a pre-birth name for either sex, as the case might be, and my name was not in it. The first name agreed on was "Joseph," the name of J. T. Kirby, an uncle. But I insisted that I had to have a part in the naming of the "first born," and I finally effected a compromise, and we named him "Joseph Thomas Kirby." But the little fellow grew up under the name of "Joe" instead of "Tom" and carries that name yet." Mr. Heathman must have been a pretty hard "nut" when a boy, as he can tell some pretty hard ones on himself when he was in his 'teens, and in later years also. Jumping from boyhood days to a few years ago, Mr. Heathman told this one: "While traveling for a farm implement firm a few years ago I pulled up at Van Buren, Ark. While seated in a hotel there I noticed a most beautiful young lady as a waiter, about the dining room. While seated in the lobby she came in to ask the clerk something, and inquired if he had any mail for her, and I heard him mention Aurora, Mo. When she left the lobby I asked the clerk if she formerly lived in that town and he said she was raised there and was a fine young lady and had a sweetheart there. The next morning at breakfast she waited on the table at which I was seated and the thought struck me to play a "medium" stunt. I had never been in Aurora, but the clerk gave me information about the town, so when she brought in my breakfast I said to her; "You are from Aurora, aren't you?" "Yes, sir. Do you live there?. "No, I've never been there," I replied. "Well," she asked, "how did you know that was my home? Are you acquainted with anyone there?" "No, I do not know a single person there." I replied. Then before she could ask another question I said to her, "You have a sweetheart there and are looking daily for a very sweet letter from him aren't you?" With sparkling eyes and a little blush she looked me in the face and said, "How do you know--who told you that?" "Oh, well, I just know things like that. Sometimes friends call me a medium," I replied. Then she became more interested and asked me about the age, size and looks of her "fellow." I guessed each question just about right, judging from the way she blushed and smiled. Then she said, "I bet you don't know his name." I heard the clerk call a name when she was talking to him the evening before, and I spoke that name, and said, "you are engaged to him, too." Then she became more interested and commenced to fire some questions at me that I could not answer, and I began to twist in my chair, and told her that it was too hard on my mind to foretell coming events, and then noticed she had not brought me any coffee, and I called for it. She hurriedly got it and with a very pleasing attitude asked me to tell her fortune, but I had run out of "pointers" and she had me cornered, but I told her she would soon be married and live a happy life, and that settled it for the time being and saved my "rep" as a medium--a fake one, to be sure,--and I never returned to Van Buren to see if my "prophecies" came true or not." Speaking of mediums recalls the story that Mr. Heathman told me about two years ago, about having his fortune told by a medium in Illinois one time, and which was published in the late Moberly Democrat. But it is a good one and it will do to repeat, what I now remember of it: Mr. Heathman was traveling for the Moberly Hay Press Co., and on this trip stopped in Springfield, Ill., to sell some hay presses. He had never had his fortune told, and while working along the streets there one evening he saw a "medium" sign on a residence door, and here is what happened, as he told me: "When I saw that sing," said Mr. Heathman, "I concluded to test that medium and see if she (the medium was a lady), could tell anything about my life that was really true. She seemed to be a very pleasant lady and invited me to a seat, surmising that I wished to have my fortune told. She commenced to ask me questions to size me up and get a line on my life. her charges were from 50 cents up, according to how much of my past life and future life I wished to know. I never hinted to her where I lived, nor what kind of occupation I was following, nor whether single or married. In fact, I had given no information about myself whatever, and I told her I would start in on 50 cents worth of information and if she hit the spot I might take another look. the first question she put to me was: "You're a stranger in the city, aren't you? I had to assent to that. "You are a married man and live in another state." I had to admit that it was true. Then she said: "You do not write to your wife very often when away from home, and when you do write to her you only state where you are and where you will likely be a week hence, just a cold business-like letter." I had to admit that was true also. Then she continued, "You should take time to write your wife an affectionate letter and write often. She would like it much better, and she would write you likewise, and soon both of you would take more pleasure in writing to each other." At this point of the "seance" my 50 cent fee was absorbed, and I concluded that I had enough of that kind of stuff, and bade her good evening. After I went to my room at the hotel and commenced thinking over the matter, I said to myself, maybe I have not been writing the kind of letters to my wife that I should write, so I sat down and wrote her several pages of the most loving letter I ever wrote in my life, and concluded it by telling her where to address her next letter to me. In all my travels I had never written my wife, before or after our marriage, such an affectionate letter, and I was quite anxious to get a reply from her. In due time I received it. Its contents were completely the reverse of what I had expected. It knocked all of the wind out of me. She didn't write much, but said a whole lot. After addressing me as her Dear Husband, she said: "Your affectionate letter received. After reading it over closely, I have concluded that when you wrote it, you were either drunk or crazy." I know the spirit in which my wife wrote, and I had a good laugh over it." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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.