Stephen Sparks, Free-State Hero

 

Stephen Sparks, c. 1882—don't miss the fan or the birdcage!

I’ve found hundreds of ancestors who joined the Union Army to abolish slavery and preserve the Union, but I’ve uncovered very few who were active in the abolitionist cause before the Civil War. However, one of them is well documented: Stephen Sparks. According to family lore shared on Ancestry, “Stephen was a large man of great strength and a quick temper. There is a family legend in which a pro-slavery man tried to kill Stephen by hitting him with a club from behind. Stunned and bleeding, Stephen took the club from the man, killing him with his bare hands.” I have yet to find evidence of this particular encounter, but there are other stories about Sparks that are definitely true—and they appear in the Congressional Record of 1856.

 

Stephen Sparks was born in Rush County, Indiana, on July 6, 1808—216 years ago today. Four days after his 20th birthday, he married our 4th great-grandaunt Esseneth Green, from the Green branch of the family tree. She was 24 years old, already a widow, yet with no offspring from her first marriage. The new couple had eight children over the next 15 years: William (1830), Moses (1831), John (1833), Stephen Jr. (1834), Lot Green (1836), Mary Jane (1838), Green (1840), and Francis (1843), and all would join their parents in the cause for freedom.

 

In 1846, three years after their last child was born, the Sparks family moved to Platte County, Missouri, near Weston. Here they started a 158-acre farm and planted an orchard. By 1854, it was producing $1,500 annually. But that October, despite the success of their farm, the Sparkses decided to move to Kansas—just 20 miles southwest across the Missouri River—to join other settlers from the Free State movement. They bought land at the confluence of Walnut and Big Stranger creeks, three miles south of Easton in Leavenworth County.

 

The Kansas–Nebraska Act of 1854 established two new US territories, but before each would be admitted as states, residents would hold elections to determine if slavery would be legal within their borders. Not surprisingly, there was an influx of both pro- and antislavery settlers, which soon led to an early, regional civil war between the factions, which became known as Bleeding Kansas. John Brown emerged from this battle.

 

Stephen Sparks was elected to the Topeka (Free State) Legislature in 1855, and was reelected three more times. This body drafted a government framework, and slavery was forbidden. Another legislature, this one proslavery, had convened earlier in Shawnee with a much different agenda.

 

Sparks’s work in Topeka put a mark on both him and his family as the state descended into violence in early 1856. As the year opened, proslavery forces aimed to prevent a Leavenworth County election on January 15, and it had to be postponed until January 17. On that day, the “ruffians” threatened the home of Mr. Minard in Easton, the town’s polling place, and demanded that the ballot lock box be turned over. Enough armed Free Staters were present to drive off the ruffians; Stephen Sparks, his son William, and nephew Clark Tritt were among those protecting the Minards' home.

 

As luck would have it, the US Congress later conducted hearings about what followed, and Stephen and Esseneth both testified before the special committee. First, Stephen Sparks’s testimony:

 

I came to the Territory in October 1854, from Platte County, Missouri, where I had been living since 1845. An election was called to be held on Tuesday, the 15th of January, 1856, at Easton; and upon learning a rumor that prevailed through the neighborhood that Kickapoo Rangers were collecting in force to prevent the election, it was postponed until the Thursday following, the 17th. On the evening before that day I went up to Easton. The polls were opened about noon; everything was quiet then; but we saw a company at Janesville, half a mile or a mile from us, passing on horses once in a while on a bluff there, and several persons came in and complained of being insulted by them, and were stopped by them. Among others, my son, Moses Sparks, was halted, also Mr. Pennock, and some two or three with them were stopped, and their guns taken out of their sleds or wagons. From a bluff near the polls we could see the party.

      It passed on so until a little before sundown. They came over into Easton across the creek, and stopped at a grocery near Dawson’s. About dusk, between 35 and 45 men, as near as I could guess, came up towards Minard’s, where the election was held. I heard some one of the crowd, who appeared to be the leader, say, “Charge on them, God-damn them, I ain’t afraid!” About this time our men had nearly formed themselves from the door to the road. Upon seeing our force they halted, and returned without further difficulty.

      Sometime after a note was sent to the house where we were, from them. The note was directed to me and Mr. Minard, and had no name to it. After looking at it, we concluded to give no answer until someone would put his name to it. Another note was sent by a messenger with Dr. Motter’s name signed to it. Mr. McAlear then came up, and Mr. Kookogey with him, to reason with us, and said it would be better for us to give up the ballot-box, or it would turn out worse.

      We concluded there would be no difficulty. This was late at night, and I proposed that I would go home, and started home with my son and nephew. My road was through Easton. Snow was on the ground, and that was the only broken way to my house, and it is the road I always go. When getting near Dawson’s store, I saw several men, and heard several say, “God damn him, there he is,” and called [me] old man Sparks, and said they had got me now. There was a great deal of talk, and the men had been drinking. I walked on and came near the store door; several men threatened me very heavy, and demanded that I should surrender. They were then all round me, some in front and some behind, and on each side. I kept on until where the road turned off between the store and the grocery. They demanded that I should go in and drink with them, but I refused. My son wanted me to surrender, but I spoke to him low, and told him to keep near me and close by my side.

      We then turned south from Easton towards home. The company then fell back and gathered as if in consultation, so that I got several rods ahead of them. They then burst loose with a good many threats and cursings, and followed me. I kept on at my usual pace, and kept the boys close by me. They again stopped to consult, and then the crowd came on and made a heavy charge on me, and their common expressions were, “God-damn him, shoot him! Kill him! Damned abolitionist!”

      There were then two guns fired. Upon this I turned and levelled my gun, but my son dissuaded me and I did not fire, but started on again, and was then near Dawson’s house. I turned into the lane leading to his house, and part of the crowd formed a line across the lane, so that I could get neither way, and were making towards me. My son and nephew, at my suggestion, got into a corner of the fence—a rail fence, staked and ridered. We were there at bay, and were prepared to make the best defense we could. I reasoned with them, and said there were plenty of my old neighbors in Platte County with them; that I knew I would not surrender to a drunken mob.

      Benjamin Foster then fetched his fist in my shoulder, and said, “God damn you, I could (or would) smash you.” I then told him to stand back, and told him if he laid his hands again on me he would regret it. They demanded our general surrender, and that we should go back to the grocery. They had guns, pistols, etc., and presented them at me, and told me to march or they would shoot me. I told them to shoot. No gun was fired there. I said they must shoot me, as I would not give up to a drunken mob.

      David Large then took hold of my son’s gun and demanded that he should give it up. He refused, and in their struggling I presented mine, and told him to let go. He did so. They then, with threats, hallooed several times; and we remained in that position some fifteen minutes, until R[eese] P. Brown came and rescued me.

      At the time they fired, as I spoke of, the man who was riding my horse went back to Minard’s and gave the word. I had no idea of this. The first I saw of Brown he was nearby, and his party afoot, stretched across the road, and inquired if I was there. I answered that I was. He told me to march to him. I started and was about half way when Sam Burgess caught hold of my shoulder. I told him to let me go, and prepared for defense, and he did let me go. He marched forward around me, and my son and nephew also came into the ring. Brown told his men to march back, and all did so, friend and foe going together in a crowd, I being in the center. Then we went to the forks of the road; there the other party took the straight forward road, and we, with Brown’s party, turned to the left. About forty or fifty yards, Brown urged me to walk in, as they were going to shoot. This he told me three times distinctly.

      The last time, I told him I would obey him. He was marching backwards looking towards the other crowd, conversing with them not to fire, and told them that if they did, he would return the fire. When we were about 60 or 80 yards off, the fire was opened upon us. The first fire was from the northwest of their crowd. I am sure they fired first, as I saw the fire distinctly. Then Brown ordered a fire in return, and both parties fired, and a great many guns were fired. The men were scattered in Indian file, and the fire was kept up for some time. My son was wounded and knocked down, within six or eight feet of me, at the second fire, but he raised again and fired. He was wounded in the arm and head slightly.

      We finally marched back to Minard’s. I stayed there all night, and started home before breakfast. About 3 o’clock in the afternoon I heard of Brown’s capture, and that Minard was also taken, and that they were to be hung. I never saw Brown afterwards.

 

Reese Brown had been captured by the proslavery mob and was beaten nearly to death, and his skull struck at least once by a hatchet. They dumped him back at his home where he died the following day.

After the election, Stephen Sparks briefly went back to his former farm in Missouri to sell it for good. He had plans for the proceeds. But while he was briefly away, proslavers showed up at the Sparks home and, according to Esseneth’s congressional testimony, expressed a desire to kill her husband:

 

Dunn [the leader] . . . turned to my little son [Francis], about twelve years old, and put the pistol to his breast, and asked him where his father’s Sharpe’s rifle was, and my son told him he had none. Dunn asked him where those guns were, pointing to the racks, and told him if he did not tell the truth, he would kill him; and my son told him the men-folk generally took care of the guns. The men left without harming anyone.

 

But they did leave a note:

 

To Stephen Sparks:

The undersigned, as you are aware, are citizens of this neighborhood. Many of us have come here with our families, intending to make Kansas our permanent home. It is our interest and desire that peace and good-will prevail among us; and whatever may conduce to this desirable end, will meet our hearty approval. The local excitements that have occurred in this vicinity, have been principally attributed to you, and, we believe, justly. You have figured in them conspicuously, and, in the affair at Easton, more reprehensible than ever. Believing, therefore, that your further residence among us is incompatible with the peace and welfare of this community, we advise you to leave as soon as you can conveniently do so.

 

It was signed by 38 individuals, about whom Esseneth clarified in her testimony: “Only one of the signers is an actual resident in the neighborhood.”

Meanwhile, according to “A Kansas Border Episode” in This Day in Kansas by Milton Tabor, Stephen Sparks was then heading home from Missouri:

 

After the sale, [Sparks] boarded the boat at Lexington [Missouri] for the return to Kansas. To his surprise he met 90 of [Jefferson] Buford’s [proslavery] gang, bound for Kansas, all thirsting for Free State blood. For a time, he was not molested, but an old neighbor, Erasmus Bly, member of the same church and strong proslavery man, was on the same boat. He knew Sparks was a Free State man and betrayed him to the enemy.

      First Sparks was told he would be hung. Sparks said to the leader, “If I must die, you will allow me 10 minutes in my cabin to make my peace with God.” This was agreed to, so Sparks went and packed his few articles and thrusting his keen bowie knife in an inside sheath and a six-gun under his sleeve, walked out on deck. There sat the traitor, Bly, smirking in his satisfaction that his neighbor was about to be hung.

      Sparks about-faced, drew his knife and gun and said: “If I have to die, I’m going to send as many of you to hell as possible before I am killed.” Then turning to Bly, he called him a scoundrel for betraying him, announcing that if Bly was ready the music would begin.

      Not one of the rascals moved a hand and for six long hours he stood on guard holding Bly a prisoner in his chair. There was a young Free State man mingling with the crowd. At intervals he would whisper or slip a note to Sparks, keeping him informed of the mob’s plans. They intended to make Sparks “walk the plank” at the destination.

      It was dark when the boat arrived at Leavenworth, and the toughs made a rush for the saloons to meet their cranies(?). Sparks slipped away into the darkness, dodging among the lumber stacks, along the levee, then wading Three Mile Creek, about where the courthouse now stands, and walked the 13 miles to his new Kansas home, thankful to see his wife and children once more.

      He was not allowed to live in peace for the Leavenworth gang was after him, his trusty Sharpe’s rifle saved him on several occasions. Just before sundown one summer evening he saw the white flag his wife always hung out as a danger signal. Picking up his rifle he started toward the house. There he found half a dozen men demanding of Mrs. Sparks to tell where her husband was and declaring their purpose of killing him. When Sparks got to the road he sent a few bullets whizzing past their ears and they left there in a hurry. The crowning act of infamy by the ruffians was the murder of Spark’s oldest son [I have not been able to confirm this] in a grocery store in Easton on the old Fort Riley Road. This treacherous act was characteristic of the boasted chivalry of the South.

 

Stephen Sparks used the proceeds from the sale of the Missouri farm to buy 160 acres around Easton, then gave 40 acres to each of four of his sons—William, John, Moses, and Stephen. Four new Free-State landowners!

 

Esseneth (Green) Sparks died near Easton on September 2, 1858. She was 57 at the time. Stephen Sparks remarried in nearby Leavenworth in May 1859, to 25-year-old Margaret Emma Piper of Ohio. She died in childbirth (as did the baby) on March 6, 1860. Stephen Sparks then returned to his birthplace in Indiana, where on October 15, 1860, he married again, this time to widow Elizabeth (Hutchcraft) McGee, and the couple returned to Kansas along with her children.

 

Stephen Sparks was 53 years old when the Civil War broke out in 1861, the same year Kansas was admitted to the Union as a free state. Two of his sons—Lot and Francis—enlisted to serve, and his daughter Mary Jane married three men who volunteered. More on them later. . .

 

The Sparks family were members of the Primitive Baptist Church until November 8, 1885, when Stephen and his wife joined the Missionary Baptist Church after moving to Easton, though he “never gave up his Calvinistic ideas.”

 

Stephen & Elizabeth Sparks lived their final years in Easton at the home of James McGee, one of Elizabeth’s sons by her first husband. According to a story on Ancestry, “For several years [Stephen Sparks] was quite helpless and had to walk with two canes, yet he was always in his chair in front of the pulpit whenever it was possible for him to get to church.”

 

On February 11, 1899, Stephen Sparks died in Easton at the age of 90. Two days later, after a service at the Missionary Baptist Church, he was laid to rest at the Sparks Cemetery, where Esseneth had been buried forty years earlier. Elizabeth (Hutchcraft McGee) Sparks died later in 1899, on November 25, at her son’s home in Oklahoma City. She is buried in the McGee family plot at the Langley Cemetery in Easton.

 

 

Stephen & Esseneth Spark's grave, Easton, Kansas.