The Prairie Was Harder Than It Looked

So, in a VERY strange way, the Keller victory party is causing me grief. Tim Keller was elected Mayor of Albuquerque, New Mexico, in October of 2017. I met an interesting guy and his girlfriend, and he was from California, and I sent him a review of the Joan Didion book, “Where I Was From,” her autobiographical look at California, including the Donner Party and the modern defense industry. Only Joan Didion could get us from one of those to the other.

In the meantime, a niece needed to stay for a while, and was curious about my grandparents, her great-grandparents, the usual, and I knew them well, so could fill her in. But, like all stories that end happily, sort of, this one started in tragedy, and this one is a doozy.

From the St. Bridget Parish Community Newsletter:

Tragedy In The Parish

Children drown in Kansas Pioneer Tragedy.

I was born May 26, 1901 in Nemaha County Kansas, and our address was Axtell, Kansas.

Sunday, March 28 will always stand out in my memory, because on this date in 1897, four of my brothers and two sisters lost their lives in a tragic accident.

I’m sure my parents, John and Sarah Carroll McGrath, were never the same after that day. Their children, ranging in age from 18 months to 14 years, were the victims.

The accident occurred 10 miles northeast of Axtell, Kansas, in Nemaha County. About 2:00 PM, my mother and her six Children, Frank, Mary, Katie, Leo, John and Tommy, the baby, decided to go to a neighbor’s. They were going to visit the John Hines family, who were going to move away soon.

My father had gone to another neighbors to play cards and wasn’t with them. To reach the Hines it was necessary for them to to cross Manley Creek, usually easily forded, but at Summerfied, at its source there had been a very heavy rain the night before, and the banks were now completely filled and the current very swift. Several parties had crossed the stream that morning, probably before it had risen so high, but when the family came to the stream, my mother protested. However, the children all being anxious for a visit, over persuaded her, and Frank, the oldest, who was driving, attempted to cross.

The horses began to swim, and in doing so, turned back and upset the wagon with its precious cargo. The older children fought the current desperately and tried to catch hold of the wagon, overhanging limbs, but the swift current overpowered them and all were swept down to the their death.

My mother did her very best to save her baby, but icy waters made her helpless, and she found it very difficult to save herself. After drifting several yards, she caught some overhanging limbs and pulled herself out, half dead-and hardly knowing what she was doing.

After recovering somewhat, she went in search of her little loved ones and wandered down the stream, until she found found Frank, who was clinging desperately to a limb. He shouted to her not to come near as it was too dangerous, but to go for help as he would hold on until she came back.

Reaching the residence of Dan Cainan, she told her awful story and they quickly went to the rescue, but found that the swift current had worn Frank out and swept him away.

Help was quickly summoned, and two of the bodies were soon recovered. but not until that night did they succeed in finding two more. Frank was found early in the morning several hundred yards away from where he had last been seen.

On Tuesday evening, after two days of hard searching, little five-year-old John was found. Three large windmill tanks were used as boats. Men were placed in them with poles and hooks, and the stream was closely watched.

Five of the children were buried in a common grave. Services were held at St. Bridget’s Church, Axtell, with the late Father Sullivan officiating. On the day of the funeral, the last body was found and was later interred in St. Bridgets Cemetery.

A tragedy such as this elicits the sympathy of the entire community. The caskets were built by neighbors, and a neighbor, Mary Riley O’Toole, obtained a bolt of muslin, fashioned little shrouds for each body. The bodies were brought to the church in grain wagons.

Six months after they were gone, my mother said she wouldn’t want them back as they were safe with God. I am now the only remaining one of the family of John and Sarah Carroll McGrath.