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Journey of the Heart
The true story of Mamie Aguirre (1844-1906) A Southern Bell in the “Wild West”
by Annette Gray
$23.58
Chapter One - In The Beginning
“I was born in St. Louis, Missouri, in 1844, which year was made famous by the greatest overflow ever known before or since. I have heard my mother say the river at St. Louis was ten miles across and no end of people were left homeless by the floods…” Mary (Mamie) Bier Aguirre
That was how Mamie’s life began, with pelting rain and muddy water surging across the countryside, destroying everything in its path, drowning livestock and sweeping away homes which had previously sat in blissful serenity along the banks of the Missouri River. It was a disaster of unimaginable proportions—one Mamie believed influenced her own stormy life.
When Mamie was born in Missouri on June 23, 1844, her parents, Joab and Arabella Bernard, were living in St. Louis, then a very small town; the streets were narrow and muddy and there was no gas or city water.¹ Yet the Bernards were reasonably well-off by the standards of the day. Joab was working in the mercantile business with a longtime friend, John Roe, and Arabella had servants to help care for the children: four-year-old Margaret, two-year-old Catherine and baby Mamie.
Joab’s initial reaction to Mamie’s birth was one of disappointment. At forty-four years of age he had three small daughters and no male heir to carry his name and, being a gentleman of significant social stature, the continuation of lineage was extremely important.
All the same, Joab was thankful Arabella and this rather fragile looking infant had survived the birth. His first two wives and daughter had not been so lucky, and the mere thought of losing another wife and child was more than he could bear. Joab lovingly called his third wife “Bell,” a rather frivolous nickname for a pious woman who “adorned herself in modest apparel,” as the Good Book decreed. With wire-rimmed glasses and hair severely combed into a bun, she was not a raving beauty but a woman with common sense and an air of refinement, qualities Joab appreciated. She was accustomed to having servants. She knew how to direct their activity and went to great pains to keep her large home in order. She was also a no-nonsense mother who demanded total obedience from her children—a tenacious idealist—who firmly believed her earthly duty was to ensure her family was physically and spiritually nourished and her offspring did nothing to blemish the family’s good name.
Having found so capable a partner in Arabella, Joab was free to pursue a variety of interests. He loved to wander and was often away from home for long periods of time, looking for promising businesses to invest in, dabbling in politics, and when called upon he preached in the Methodist Church. With a full head of dark, wavy hair, steady brown eyes and a neatly-trimmed mustache, he could be described as handsome, even debonair when he strode down the street, swinging his gold-topped cane. The cane, a gift from Governor Culpepper of Virginia, was made from the wood of Old Ironsides (the Constitution, a battleship used against Britain in the War of 1812), and it served as a constant reminder to Arabella that her husband may have achieved great things in the world of politics had he set his mind to it. in the world of politics had he set his mind to it.
Soon after Mamie’s entrance into the world, Joab and Arabella dutifully made their way to church to christen the new baby “Mary Bier Bernard.” From the very beginning she was known as “Mamie,” a nickname spelled “Mame” by both friends and family. (For the purpose of this book we use the familiar spelling to insure correct pronunciation.)
Arabella was not cut out for frontier life. She had been used to more civilized conditions and yearned to go back East, so when Mamie was six months old, the Bernard family moved to Baltimore, Maryland, traveling as far as Wheeling, Virginia, by steamboat, then by stage over the Allegheny Mountains. This was a long arduous journey for a mother with three small children; however Arabella had two black slaves to assist her. Mamie referred to these slaves as “family servants who were part of my mother’s wedding gifts from her mother and father.”
Arriving in Baltimore in 1845, the Bernards lived on the family estate, sixteen miles from the city of Baltimore at Locust Grove, on Reisterstown Road in Baltimore County. The estate was landscaped in the style of a Scottish manor and was a real show place with lush green lawns and huge oak trees. This was Arabella’s birthplace and she was delighted to return with her husband and daughters.
While in Baltimore, Mamie flourished under the doting eyes of her grandparents. She was a tiny child with a sweet disposition, two characteristics she retained throughout her life. In due time the stork brought three more sisters: Ann, Jesse and Arabella. “We were six girls in all,” Mamie said, “before the long-awaited brother made his appearance.”
Mamie’s first brother, Noah, was born January 4, 1854, and needless to say Joab was a very proud man. A son, at last! Similar to Mamie, the little fellow was given a nickname, “None,” which family and friends pronounced “Nonie.” From the first day Mamie set eyes on her baby brother she loved him and, when he was grown to manhood, he became her dearest confidant and friend.
The new baby was christened “Noah Worthington Bernard,” the name “Worthington” given in memory of Joab’s first wife, Ann Marcelle Worthington who died as a young bride. Elizabeth Ball, Joab’s second wife had also died young, yet it seemed he was particularly fond of Ann and named three of his and Arabella’s children after her. He also maintained a lifelong friendship with Ann’s family, a link which appeared to hold some sort of curse, for in years to come the Worthington connection resulted in another Bernard family tragedy.
The next few years, spent in Baltimore, were happy years for Mamie and, from her own telling, represented her “age of innocence,” a time when her ultimate pleasure was romping on neatly trimmed grass with her sisters: Margaret, Catherine (Kate), Ann (Nan), Jesse (Sis) and Arabella (Bell). What lovely, summer hours they spent in the garden—six happy little girls—enjoying a game of hide-and-seek or weaving daisy chains and giggling when the sweet-smelling pollen turned their noses yellow. Often the little girls were engrossed in capturing fuzzy caterpillars and collecting stones to drop in a pinafore pocket. Sometimes the girls sprawled contentedly on the lawn, watching clouds and laughing with childish glee when they spotted an imaginary rabbit or kitten in a bright blue sky. Yet, Mamie’s favorite activity was swinging on a queer looking swing that hung by two long wooden poles from the branches of an oak tree. Here she would swing for hours, sailing as high as a tiny person could go, her long dark ringlets flying out behind. What wonderful carefree days!
Far too soon it was time to go to school, but for Mamie there was no mathematics, social studies or science. Such challenging subjects were thought to be injurious to the delicate female brain, so Mamie’s lessons dealt with reading, writing, memorizing Bible verses and studying music and, at home, she learned to master various kinds of needlework. Every Sunday Mamie accompanied her family to church, and it was there she was exposed to the Methodist doctrine of “assurance, conversion and holiness.” The church stressed that “no wrong temper should be displayed contrary to love; pure love should remain within the soul, and all thoughts, words and deeds must be governed by love.” Joab and Arabella were from affluent Southern stock and, although Joab’s family owned no slaves, Arabella’s family did. Arabella firmly believed that having servants, black or otherwise, was a God given right. Certainly her Bible had given instructions on how to manage servants, and this being the case, Arabella taught her daughters how to “give orders to the family servants.”
Mamie was often reminded of her parents’ “blue blood” and encouraged to be proud of her heritage. Arabella was the greatgranddaughter of John Cunningham, the last Scottish Earl of Glencairn, while Joab was a descendant of a French nobleman who arrived in America in 1652. Joab’s people fought against Britain in the War of 1812. Consequently the Bernard family gained a substantial amount of political recognition, which in turn led Joab to have friends in government offices—among them fellow Virginian, US President John Tyler.
The first dramatic change in Mamie’s young life took place in early 1856 when her father decided to move west, to greener pastures. His elder brother, Tom, had settled on a farm called “Rose Glen” in Callaway County, Missouri, in 1839. The name, “Rose Glen,” had an appealing ring to Joab’s ears, as did the jingle of gold coins in his brother’s pockets.
However, Kansas territory had just begun to open up, so it was Kansas, rather than Missouri, that was drawing new settlers. So, in 1855, Joab joined the throng heading west and staked a claim in Kansas with the intention of opening a trading center. Later, when he returned to his wife and children in Baltimore, he was full of stories of the land of plenty and was determined to move Arabella and the children west.
In retrospect, Mamie envisioned her father in their Baltimore parlor, his shiny boots pacing back and forth, him stopping only long enough to argue with her mother. “Now see here Bell, there’s a fortune to be made in the Kansas territory. Trust me! I know what I’m doing. It’s perfectly safe for you and the children to accompany me.”
Of course Mamie’s mother objected to moving. Her roots were buried deep in Baltimore’s soil, and she was not about to be pried loose to go into some “ungodly wilderness,” but being a good Christian woman, she took it as her duty to obey her husband— most of the time. So, when scolding and cajoling failed, she grudgingly packed her bags and set off to pursue her husband’s dream.
Describing their trip, Mamie said, “In April we started our long journey ‘out west.’ I can well remember hearing Westport being called the ‘jumping off place,’ having in my mind’s eye an immense bank from which one could look down and down into space. Our route was from Baltimore to Wheeling by cars on the B. & O. Railroad. We were then seven children, so moving was no light matter.”
Servants went with the family, two black slaves and a white housekeeper and “no end of luggage.” There was even a piano included in the household furnishings. If not the first, it was one of the first pianos ever to reach the new frontier. Huge lunch baskets were filled with all sorts of goodies. What fun Mamie had on the train with her small nose pressed against a window, her dark eyes full of wonder as they fixed themselves on an ever-changing scene. There were no sleepers on the train in those days, not even upholstered seats. Falling asleep on a hard wooden seat, then toppling onto an even harder floor was something Mamie never forgot.
Within a day or two, Mamie and her family transferred their belongings from the train to a riverboat. With water frothing and churning around them, Mamie’s fear of swift, running water came to the fore, and she held her breath as the boat lifted and heaved above the falls on the Ohio River at Louisville and Cairo, hung precariously in the swirling foam, then plunged over the rocky edges. By comparison, the rest of the trip seemed tame, and the children settled down to visit with fellow passengers. Later on, Mamie began to enjoy the trip and helped one of the lady passengers.
“I had an immense doll,” she recalled, “It was as large as a three-month-old baby and a cradle to match. And in this, a woman—a tired mother—rocked her baby to sleep. It was like living at home almost, for it took so long that we became accustomed to the boat and felt at home. Finally we reached Westport Landing. I suppose nearly all the passengers came on the same boat for my cradle was used right along. I remember such lovely rocks on the banks of the Missouri and how the water looked where the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers met. At last we had reached our journey’s end, the end of April 1856. We arrived in the very heat of the pro-slavery war in Kansas, of which my only recollection is seeing people marching at night through the streets with drum and fife and being told they were going to Kansas to fight.”
Mamie was only a child, so naturally did not appreciate the significance of people going to fight in Kansas, but the fact remained: the Bernards had come west at a very bad time and were about to witness the worst kind of terrorism.
Oblivious of danger, Joab began working on the project initiated the previous year, that of building a town from the ground up, his very own town, named St. Bernard—after himself. St. Bernard would be a grand town, a major trading center—or so he thought.
He had been appointed postmaster of St. Bernard on March 3, 1855,4 and by way of promoting his town, he enlisted the help of James Hamilton (Tom Bernard’s son-in-law), and two friends, Dr. Herriford and C. Spalding. Designating them as trustees, Joab ran this ad in the March 22 and April 5, 1856, edition of the Westport Border Times.
“Notice To All Settlers, St. Bernard, Kansas Territory. The undersigned Trustees for the town company of St. Bernard are authorized to donate lots to anyone, or all persons who may desire to settle in the town, the only conditions imposed being occupancy and improvement. For further information apply to J. M. Bernard, of St. Bernard or J. G. Hamilton or Dr. H. G. Herriford, Westport, Mo. or C.C. Spalding, Kansas City.”
Joab’s town-building scheme was not without merit. There were large camps of natives in the area, as well as hundreds of new settlers, and they all needed the store and postal service Joab was offering. Another favorable condition was the fact that supplies for the store could be freighted in from the relatives in Westport.
All things being equal, the project may have been a huge success, had it not been for the fact Joab had unwittingly built his new town a scant thirty miles from Osawatomie where John Brown, the famous abolitionist, had recently joined five of his sons. Brown was poised to drive Confederate slave-holders out of Kansas. In other words, Joab was a made-to-order target, for not only was he a Confederate, but his wife was a slave-holder. Unaware of the threat, Joab hung up his shingle as storekeeper and postmaster and within a month’s time was doing a lively trade with the Sacs, Fox and other native tribes. Business surpassed everyone’s expectations. The town was literally a gold mine, and Joab was sure he’d struck it rich.
Then came the dreadful event—the Pottawatomie massacre— the killing, in cold blood, of five Kansas settlers on May 25, 1856, by John Brown’s men. News traveled slowly in those days, and Mamie’s father was not to learn of the massacre until two days later when a messenger burst into his store with a chilling warning.
“Brown’s men are on their way to St. Bernard!”