Iron County Historical Society - Arcadia, Missouri

04/11/2026

For those that hadn't heard about the passing of Art:
https://www.facebook.com/share/1Cc6aajUJ4/

This last week I was informed of passing of a close friend and mentor.

If you've visited Missouri Mines State Historic Site in the last 33 years, chances are you've crossed paths with Art Hebrank.

Art was the epitome of the word passionate. Art lived and breathed mining and geology and loved sharing his knowledge with anyone who was interested. From his job to vacations, he loved both topics and made sure to include them in everything he did. Art's work in preserving Missouri's mining and geologic history was unmatched. Starting with a childhood interest in rocks, Art made an over 50 year career. In that career he became a go-to person for information for many. Myself included.

In late 2014 I had the pleasure of going to work for Art. At the time I was a fresh out of high school 18 year old with an interest in history who was trying to figure out my career path.

Art took me under his wing and taught me everything he could from mining history to geology. In my 8 years spent at Missouri Mines, many hours were spent discussing anything and everything mining and geology related. In these conversations I found, like many others, that Art's passion was infectious. To give Art credit where credit is due, I would not have the career I do now without him.

Art will be sorely missed and I'll miss being able to share my adventures with him.

Please feel free to share any memories you have of Art in the comments as his family and friends would love to hear them.

Obituary link: https://www.hortonwamplerfh.com/obituary/arthur-hebrank
-Jake

The photo is courtesy of the Daily Journal.

04/08/2026

Well, I knew it would happen sooner or later. Old age is catching up to me. Not only do I sometimes forget where I’m going when walking from one room to another, now it seems I am repeating myself on my Where is it Wednesday columns. While I did take a quick look at my files, I didn’t find the post that I had done last April on the Plank Road. As the following was about 95% written when I found my error, I decided to go with it anyway and: (1) apologize for the duplication; and (2) promise to try not to let it happen again in the future.

This week’s Where is it Wednesday takes time out to mark the 175th anniversary of the original meeting held on April 5, 1851 by citizens from St. Genevieve, Madison, St. Francois and Perry counties to discuss the creation of a plank road to connect the iron mining towns of Iron Mountain and Pilot K**b to the Mississippi River town of Ste. Genevieve. Remember Iron County wasn’t created until 1857. That meeting became the first step in the creation of what would become, at one time, the longest plank road in the United States. This is the story of that road.

Imagine a time when Missouri’s "roads" were little more than treacherous mud pits, where a single rainstorm could swallow a wagon wheel whole. In the mid-19th century, the solution to this logistical nightmare wasn’t asphalt or concrete—it was timber.

Specifically, it was the Ste. Genevieve, Iron Mountain, and Pilot K**b Plank Road, a 42-mile engineering marvel that once held the title of the longest plank road in United States history.

In the 1840s, the iron mines at Iron Mountain and Pilot K**b were booming. The problem? There was no efficient way to get that heavy ore to the Mississippi River for shipping. Ste. Genevieve was the closest port, but the rugged Ozark terrain made the journey grueling and, at times, impossible.

In 1851, the solution arrived: The Plank Road. Its construction was a massive undertaking. Unlike modern roads, this was a literal wooden floor laid across the wilderness. Millions of board feet of white oak, cut into planks about 8 to 10 feet long and 3 to 4 inches thick. These planks were laid across "sleepers" (heavy timber sills) buried in the earth. At roughly $200,000 (a fortune in the 1850s), it was a high-stakes gamble on the future of Missouri industry. The portion of the plank road from Ste. Genevieve to Farmington 1853 and to Iron Mountain in 1855.

For a brief window of time, the road transformed the region. Heavy iron wagons that used to take days to navigate the mud could now trot along the wooden surface with ease making a round trip in as little as five days.

However, it wasn't a free ride. This was a toll road. Five toll gates lined the route, with two situated between Farmington and Doe Run. A round trip for a wagon filled with supplies cost 25 cents, while a horse rider paid only 10 cents. It became a lifeline for the community, carrying not just iron, but lead, granite, and agricultural goods to the bustling port of Ste. Genevieve. An interesting story associated with the payment of the tolls is associated with John Hunt who often used the road between Farmington and Doe Run at night. Instead of paying the tolls each time he passed through a tollgate, Hunt got into the habit of simply calling out his name to the gatekeeper and then paying his bill on a monthly basis. The problem was that other teamsters along the road found out about this practice and instead of paying their own tolls, simply yelled out, “the team of John Hunt”. It only took one bill for Hunt start paying his tolls in cash.

As innovative as the plank road was, it was short-lived. First, there was the cost of maintaining the road. Wood in the humid Missouri climate doesn't last long when pressed into the dirt. Within just a few years, the planks began to warp, crack, and rot. Maintenance costs skyrocketed, and the constant thumping of hooves and heavy iron wheels wore the surface down to splinters. The real enemy of the plank road though was technology.

Completed to Iron Mountain and Pilot K**b in 1858, the St. Louis & Iron Mountain Railroad offered a faster, more durable, and more efficient way to move ore. By the time the Civil War broke out, the once-great plank road was largely abandoned, its wooden bones reclaimed by the forest or scavenged by locals for building materials.

The Legacy Today

According to a September 4, 2019, article published in the Ste. Geneivieve Herald, “The road went from the foot of Market Street, through the present-day Mississippi Lime Co., then along Lime Kiln Road to its junction with Route A near Zell. The road crossed what is now Interstate 55 to present-day Highway 32. It deviated from today’s Highway 32 at both New Offenburg and Weingarten. It went through Valley Forge, [and] Farmington.” It continued to Iron Mountain roughly following Missouri Highway 221 and St. Francois County Highway NN. It stands as a fascinating chapter in American history—a moment when we tried to pave the wilderness with the very trees that grew within it. Until next week…

04/01/2026

This is for our historical society members. Yesterday, I sent out an email about the upcoming memorial service for Joanie Acquisto. If you didn't get it, please check your spam folder to see if it is there. The same will also apply to the electronic version of the Spring 2026 newsletter which will go out today to all members with email addresses on file. If you don't get it by tonight, again, check your spam folder. Thanks!!!

04/01/2026

Here's the link to my monthly appearance on the KREI Newsmakers Program. Thanks again to KREI and to host, Mike Ramsey.

Joh Abney, the Vice President of the Iron County Historical Society, talked about the new membership year...

04/01/2026

This week’s Where is it Wednesday starts with a question. Could one collection cover thousands of years of history in the area that would one day become Iron County? At the Iron County Historical Society, the answer is Yes! Housed within the Iron County Historical Society’s museum is the Kelton White Collection of over 150 stone artifacts. All were collected on the farm owned by Mr. White in rural Arcadia. The home was originally built and owned by General John W. Turner.

From a large spear point to smaller arrowheads and drills, these pieces of worked stone tell the story of thousands of years of human history in our region, a story that stretches long before written records began. This collection provides us with a fascinating window into the lives of the first Americans, covering several distinct cultural periods.

Note: It has been brought to my attention that even though the chart I used in identifying the points in our collection identified the “Dalton Period”, other Missouri sources instead call it the Late Paleo or Early Archaic Period. I am no expert, nor do I claim to be. I have left it in this post as this is what is shown on the chart that I used.

The Oldest Piece: The Dalton Period (approx. 10,500 – 9,900 years ago)

Imagine our region as it was roughly 10,000 years ago. The glaciers had retreated, but the climate was still cool and wet. This was the end of the last Ice Age, and the environment was transitioning. The very oldest piece in our collection, identifiable by its distinct shape, dates all the way back to this time, known in Missouri as the Dalton Period.

The people of the Dalton Period were nomadic hunter-gatherers. They did not live in permanent villages. Instead, they followed migrating herds, which at that time included megafauna like mammoth and mastodon, as well as deer and other smaller game. Their lives revolved around survival, following food sources with the seasons. They lived in temporary camps, likely using shelters made of animal skins or brush.

The "points" or projectile tips from this era are exquisite examples of craftsmanship. They were finely chipped, often with "fluting" (grooves) running down the center to help them securely fasten to a wooden shaft. While commonly referred to as arrowheads, these mostly large, elegantly made points were likely used as spear tips. Imagine the skill and bravery it took for a group of Dalton hunters to bring down a mammoth with spears tipped with stone points like these!

Transitions and Adapting: The Archaic Period (approx. 9,900 – 3,000 years ago)

Following the Dalton Period, the climate became warmer and drier, similar to what we experience today. This ushered in the Archaic Period, which lasted for thousands of years. As the climate and environment changed, so did the way of life for the people. Megafauna became extinct, so they adapted their hunting strategies to focus on smaller, faster animals like white-tailed deer. They also relied more heavily on foraging, gathering nuts, berries, and other plant foods.

While still largely nomadic, people in the Archaic Period began to travel in smaller territories and to settle down for longer periods in seasonal camps. We see evidence of this in the archaeological record, including the first use of ground stone tools like axes and celts.

The projectile points from this period reflect this shift. They were still used on spears and dart shafts, but they began to vary more in shape and style than in previous eras. The museum’s collection includes a small but significant number of pieces from this incredibly long period, each one a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of these early inhabitants as they adapted to a changing world.

Settling Down: The Woodland Period (approx. 3,000 – 1,000 years ago)

The Woodland Period marked a major turning point in the history of the region. This is when we see the first evidence of semi-permanent and permanent villages, which was made possible by a shift towards agriculture. While they still hunted and gathered, the cultivation of crops like squash, sunflowers, and eventually corn provided a more stable food source. This allowed people to stay in one place for longer periods, which in turn led to a population increase and more complex social structures.

The Woodland Period is also defined by the widespread use of pottery, which was a technological breakthrough that improved food storage and cooking. This is also when the bow and arrow were introduced, a technological advance that revolutionized hunting and warfare. Many of the smaller projectile points in the society's collection, which we would traditionally call arrowheads, date from this period, reflecting this dramatic change in hunting technology.

It’s easy to look at a collection of arrowheads and only see stone. But these artifacts are so much more than that. Each one was carefully crafted by hand, used by a real person in their daily struggle for survival. They are a tangible connection to the past, a silent history of thousands of years of human life, innovation, and resilience right here in Iron County. The next time you visit the museum, take a closer look at this remarkable collection and imagine the people who held these pieces of history in their own hands. Until next week….

03/25/2026

The following query was submitted by one of our historical society members today. I didn't know the answer, but I am positive that we have somebody out there that can help her out. Here's the query:

Hello, I'm researching the property that was once our family farm in Arcadia. In several articles it is referred to as "the old Mace Place" would you happen to know who this is? Would it be Sheriff Morgan Mace? The current property is now subdivided along Brooks Rd on Hwy E. Nicholas Martin built a palatial estate in 1928-29. Maurice Kastner is my grandfather. Thank you for your help.

03/25/2026

My mom grew up in the northwestern part of Iron County during the 1930s and 40s. One of my favorite stories she told me was about sorghum making. It’s just one example of the resilience of farm families in the Great Depression of the 1930s and I thought I would share it with you. This is the story of how neighbors worked together to wring sweetness from a tough, drought-resistant cane, keeping their families fed and their spirits high during America's darkest economic hour.

For many rural families during the Great Depression of the 1930s, the world felt like it was shrinking. Cash was non-existent, and the thought of buying simple luxuries like white sugar was a fantasy. In this era of profound scarcity, one plant became a symbol of resilience, and one community event—the sorghum "stir-off"—became the sweet center of the harvest.

During this time, a lone family farm rarely had all the resources it needed to be truly self-sufficient. This was especially true for sorghum. The specialized machinery—the mill and the cooking furnace—was an investment few could afford on their own. Instead of a competitive market, a beautiful system of community reciprocity emerged.

It started in late spring. Knowing that winter would mean a lack of store-bought sweets, neighboring farms would dedicate a small patch of land to growing "sweet sorghum" cane. Sorghum was perfect for the Depression-era farm: it was drought-tolerant, meaning it could thrive even when corn failed, and it required minimal expensive fertilizers. The plant, sweet sorghum (Sorghum bicolor), is a tall, drought-resistant grass similar to corn that originated in Africa and was introduced to the United States in in the 1850s.

For months, families tended their cane patches, watching the stalks grow tall—sometimes over ten feet—until the seed heads matured and the stalks turned a yellowish-green, signaling that the sugar content was at its peak.

When the first frost threatened in September or October, a call would go out. The neighbor with the "set-up"—the farm with the mill and furnace—would announce that "sorghum making" would begin. This wasn’t just a request for service; it was a community-wide event. A "stir-off" was as much a social gathering as it was hard work, featuring laughter, storytelling, and the anticipation of a shared reward. Before they could load the wagon, the family had to prepare their cane. This was grueling, hand-intensive work. Using a wooden paddle or a machete, they would strip all the leaves from the standing stalks. "Topping" came next, cutting off the heavy seed heads, often with several inches of the upper stalk, which had less sugar. Some of the seeds would be saved for planting the next season and the rest used as feed for chickens and hogs. The green stalks and leaves were chopped and fed to cattle. Typical of Depression Era farm life, nothing of use was wasted.

Finally, they would cut the stalks close to the ground, taking care not to get dirt on the cut ends. These "naked" stalks were neatly stacked and loaded onto horse-drawn wagons for the slow, celebratory trip to their neighbor's mill. Speed was essential; the sugar in the cut cane would begin to turn to starch quickly, so the cane needed to be processed within a day.

The heart of the entire process was the sorghum mill. If you visited a mill in the 1930s, you would have seen a marvel of simple, horse-powered engineering. The classic Depression-era mill was a vertical-roller press. The entire mechanism was driven by a single horse or mule. The animal was hitched to a long, heavy wooden beam, called a "sweep," which was connected to the mill's main gear. The horse would walk in a slow, continuous circle, treading a well-worn path around the mill. This movement turned massive, tightly spaced steel rollers inside the press. A worker, often a child or an elder, stood at the "feeding mouth" of the mill, feeding the prepped cane stalks, butt-end first, into the crushing gap between the rollers.

As the stalks were drawn through, the immense pressure wringed out the bright, vibrant green "crude juice." This juice would pour down the side of the mill and was collected in a barrel, usually strained through several layers of cheesecloth to catch any remaining bits of cane or dirt. The spent, dry stalks, called "pummies," were pushed out the other side and were often dried for livestock fodder or mulch. It was a slow, rhythmic dance of animal labor and human guidance, a low-tech solution to an essential need.

Once the juice was collected, the truly artful (and exhausting) work began: "boiling it down." The goal was to evaporate most of the water, leaving behind a thick, amber, caramel-like syrup.

The raw, strained juice was taken immediately to the sorghum furnace. This was a long, shallow, horizontal pan, sometimes 10 to 12 feet long, resting on a furnace built from stone or concrete and fired continuously with dry oak wood. Two people were required full-time just to keep the fire raging at the perfect temperature. The long pan was a maze of baffles, or channels. The juice would enter at one end and slowly work its way down the "maze." This allowed for continuous processing: fresh, raw juice could be added at the entry, while the thickest, most cooked-down syrup was drawn off at the other end.

This was the most critical step. As the green juice heated, starchy material, chlorophyll, and impurities would coagulate and float to the surface as a thick, dark green foam. If left in, this foam would give the sorghum a bitter, grassy taste. Workers stood by the pan constantly, using long-handled "skimmers"—shallow, perforated dippers—to continuously "skim" this foam off the top. This "scum" was never wasted; it was often fed to pigs, though sometimes a humorous tradition involved hiding it in a "skimming hole" to trick unwary visitors.

As the juice reached the end of the long pan, it became the responsibility of the "sorghum maker." This was an experienced role, usually the owner of the mill. They didn't use a thermometer; they knew the syrup was "ready" by observing the pattern and sound of the bubbles and how the syrup dripped from a wooden ladle. The finished product was a rich, complex, dark amber syrup, milder and less bitter than its cousin, sugarcane molasses.

One of the key constraints of sorghum making was the amount of material required. It takes roughly 10 gallons of raw cane juice to produce just one gallon of finished, cooked-down sorghum syrup. All of that water—9 gallons out of 10—had to be boiled off by the furnace. A single acre of well-cultivated sweet sorghum cane could produce anywhere from 120 to 150 gallons of syrup. This meant that even a small family patch could yield a crucial supply of "sweet gold"—a vital source of energy, calories, and rare nutrients like iron, calcium, and potassium.

When the day was done and the final batch of sorghum was poured into cooling vats, the compensation was settled. This was rarely done with cash. Instead, the owner of the mill and furnace was compensated with a "share" of the final product—often between 20% and 40% of the total syrup made. The neighbor who had grown the cane took home the remaining percentage, enough to fill several lard cans, cream cans, and glass jars to last the entire year.

Sorghum was a crucial addition to the Depression-era table. Sorghum provided the primary sweetener for the household. It was the standard topping for biscuits, hoecakes, and mush. A common breakfast involved "sopping" hot buttered biscuits in a pool of dark, amber sorghum. Farm wives adapted their recipes to use the liquid sweetener in place of sugar for gingerbread, "shoofly" pies, and cookies. It was also used to cure meats and preserve fruits when granulated sugar ran out.

I’m sure that there are those of you out there who could share stories from their own family’s experiences of surviving the Great Depression and we hope that you might take the time to share them the comments or possibly submit them for possible publication in one of our future newsletters.

Growing up during the Great Depression was undeniably hard, yet those lean years shaped my parents in ways that served them for the rest of their lives. They learned to stretch what they had, to fix instead of replace, and to meet challenges with a quiet, steady resilience. Sometimes I look around at our modern, convenience-driven, throw-away world and feel that we’ve drifted away from that spirit of self reliance and the old “waste not, want not” wisdom. Their generation didn’t just survive tough times—they built a mindset that carried them through life, and there’s something in that example worth remembering. Until next week….

03/24/2026

We are terribly saddened by the loss of Joanie Acquisto. She was a dedicated volunteer at our museum and a truly wonderful person who will be sorely missed. Godspeed Joanie. Acquisto, Joan F., - Kutis Funeral Home Inc

Acquisto, Joan F., (nee Wilkes) fortified with the sacraments of Holy Mother Church on March 21, 2026. Beloved wife of the late Vincent Acquisto; she is survived by Norma’s children Michael, DeeDee (Eddie Sporn), Lori Bayer, Marty (Mary Ellen) and the late Mark (the late Rebecca); dearest grandmot...

03/18/2026

This week’s Wednesday takes a look back at the Edgar family and their contributions to the history of Iron County. The Edgar family came to Iron County from Tipton, Iowa in 1866. Three generations of Edgars, spanning over 100 years, practiced law in Iron County. Another one of the descendants was an insurance company executive and very active in the local community.

William R. Edgar II, born September 17, 1851, in Tipton, Cedar County, Iowa, was the son of William R. and Rebecca G. (Tichenor) Edgar and descended from Scottish and Revolutionary War lineage. After attending public school in Ironton, he spent two years at the United States Military Academy at West Point before completing his law degree at Washington University in St. Louis in 1875. The following year, he registered to practice law at the Iron County Courthouse and soon partnered for a time with J. W. Emerson. In 1878, Edgar was elected prosecuting attorney of Iron County, a position he would hold through four consecutive reelections. To supplement his legal income—and to meet the community’s need for a mathematics instructor—he also taught for four years at Arcadia College in Arcadia, Missouri. Among his students was Sara Pressia Whitworth, daughter of Isaac G. and Nancy B. (White) Whitworth. William and Sara married on October 5, 1880, and made their home in his father’s house on Russellville Road. The couple raised five children—Maude, William R. III, Mary, James, and Robert L.—and later built a Queen Anne–style residence on East Reynolds Street in Ironton. The home remained in the family for generations, last occupied by their grandson, William R. Edgar IV, before being razed following his death in 1998.

William R. Edgar II’s public life extended far beyond his long service as prosecuting attorney. He served as Receiver of the U.S. Land Office in Ironton, chaired the local Democratic Committee, sat on the State Democratic Committee, served as Mayor of Ironton, and acted as a presidential elector. Within the Masonic fraternity, he was a member and past master of Star of the West Lodge No. 133, A.F. & A.M., and High Priest of Midian Chapter No. 71. He and his wife, Sara Pressia, were also charter members of Ironton Chapter No. 349, Order of the Eastern Star. Around 1894, Edgar joined the board of directors of the Iron County Bank and later served for many years as its president. In partnership with his son, William R. Edgar III, he handled numerous cases in the Iron County Circuit Court. Their firm, Edgar & Edgar, represented clients such as the Sligo Furnace Company, the Ironton Academy of Music, and the Gay and Kendall Mercantile Company. In 1904, the two established the Iron County Abstract Company.

William R. Edgar II died in Ironton on September 26, 1921, and was buried in the Masonic Cemetery in Arcadia. A memorial service honoring his life and service was held at the Iron County Courthouse on October 3, 1921. Sara Pressia, who had devoted herself to her family and was an early member of the Fort Hill Methodist Episcopal Church, later moved to St. Louis to live with their youngest son, Robert. She died on August 23, 1939, and was laid to rest beside her husband in the Masonic Cemetery in Arcadia.

William R. Edgar III , known as Will, was born on May 24, 1885, in Ironton, Missouri, and graduated from Ironton High School in 1901. In the early years of the new century, he moved to St. Louis, where he worked as a clerk in the legal department of the Missouri Pacific Railroad while attending the Benton School of Law at night. He earned his law degree in 1910 and was licensed to practice shortly thereafter.

He returned to Ironton in 1911 and married Mary A. Roehry, daughter of Anton and Emma (Mark) Roehry. Born in Ironton on November 17, 1886, Mary had been educated at the Ursuline Academy in Arcadia and was an accomplished pianist who served for many years as organist at Saint Paul’s Episcopal Church. Although Will had originally intended to build his legal career in St. Louis, he came home to join his father’s practice when William R. Edgar II fell ill.

Will and Mary first lived in the Edgar home on Russellville Road before building their own house at 116 East Dent Street. In the mid 1920s, they moved into his parents’ residence on East Reynolds Street. Will served as Prosecuting Attorney of Iron County for about eight years, later becoming president of the Iron County Security Bank during the 1930s. In 1938, he served an eight month term as Circuit Judge and also spent many years as Ironton’s City Attorney.

Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, Will managed a substantial caseload on his own. In 1937, his son, William R. Edgar IV, joined the practice, and the firm once again operated under the name Edgar & Edgar. The Iron County Abstract Company, founded by his father and grandfather, continued its work as well.

Will was active in civic and fraternal life, maintaining more than fifty years of membership in the Masonic organization and long involvement with the Rotary Club. He chaired the fundraising campaign that helped save St. Mary’s of the Ozarks Hospital. In 1967, he began serving as probate and magistrate judge. He died on August 24, 1967, and was buried in the Masonic Cemetery in Arcadia. Mary Edgar died on April 1, 1975, and was laid to rest beside him.

William R. Edgar IV, the son and only child of William R. Edgar III, and Mary Edgar was born on August 25, 1912. Known as Bill, he graduated from Ironton High School in 1930 and then attended Washington University and then Washington University Law School. After passing his bar exam in 1937, Bill joined his father in the Edgar & Edgar Law Firm and the Iron County Abstract Company. Bill was drafted into the U.S. Army in World War II and served in Europe. He returned to Ironton in 1946 but was called back to active duty as a reservist from 1950 to 1952, during the Korean War, and served in Germany during this time. He again returned to Ironton after his service, taking over the law practice and abstract company upon the death of his father in 1967. Bill died on September 30, 1998, and was buried in the Edgar family plot in the Masonic Cemetery. Bill’s legacy lives on today through the William Edgar Charitable Foundation that was created after his death. Each year, the foundation awards scholarships to graduates of the Arcadia Valley High School and provides grant funding to non-profit organizations throughout Iron County.

Another prominent member of the Edgar family was Robert “Bob” L. Edgar. Bob was the youngest brother of William R. Edgar III and was born on April 20, 1900. Bob graduated from Ironton High School in 1918. He attended the United States Military Academy for one year and later graduated from Washington University Law School in 1923. After his graduation he became affiliated with Lon W. Harlow & Co, of St, Louis. The company dealt in all types of insurance, except for life insurance, and also dealt in surety bonds. After Lon Harlow’s death, Bob became the sole owner of the company. Bob married Isabelle Baker on December 4, 1937. They were the parents of two sons, Robert L. Edgar Jr. (1941 – 2004) and James Douglas Edgar (1943 – 1988). Besides being an insurance company executive, Bob was also devoted to the Arcadia Valley. He served as the secretary to both the Arcadia Valley Chamber of Commerce and the Arcadia Valley Alumni Association. He served on the executive committee for the Iron County Centennial Association in 1957 and served as the Chairman of the Battle of Pilot K**b Centennial observance in 1964. Bob was also involved in the Boy Scouts and earned the Silver Beaver Award, scouting’s highest honor for an adult volunteer. Bob died after a short illness on May 2, 1968. He was remembered in his obituary as, “The best friend the Arcadia Valley ever had.” Bob was buried in the Masonic Cemetery in Arcadia.

Most of the information for this week’s column came from the entries for the Edgar family members in the Family History section of, “Past and Present, A History of Iron County, Missouri 1857 -1994, Vol I”. This book is available for purchase at our museum or on-line through our website at https://ironcountyhistory.org/store.php?cid=2&sid=2 . Until next week…