researching old Pattonsburg

In June 1993, Pattonsburg, Missouri experienced a devastating flood. Lying in the lowlands with Sampson Creek to the west, Big Creek to the east, and the Grand River to the south (Figure 1), flooding was nothing new to the town, having been inundated at least thirty times in the past century and a quarter. Indeed, after the first flood, the spirit of cooperation was strong among the residents. They had been through it all before, they reasoned – thirtythree times in the twentieth century. They had even staved off a threatened human-made flood – the Army Corps of Engineers had proposed a dam in 1966, and again in 1974 and 1986 that would have flooded the town (Dvorak, 1993; O’Malley and Crowl, 1998: 65). They could do it again. But then in July came a second flood, eight inches higher than the first. In the words of one resident, the second inundation “whipped us good.”

Ironically, Pattonsburg had moved once before, in 1877, down into the floodplain to be near the newly constructed railroad – a line that was eventually abandoned.

The population today is 261, down from 414 a few years before the flood. Many moved away because they did not want to go through the hassle of moving, or because they could not bear to try to rebuild the town where they had lived for decades.

What first drew us to Pattonsburg was the utterly surreal feel that the new town has. Located on hilly land high above the floodplain, virtually devoid of trees, with widely dispersed houses, a downtown that looks like two strip malls on opposite sides of a strangely broad main street, and a school that looks like it came out of a science fiction movie, new Pattonsburg has a feel unlike any other place we had been (Figure 2). Meanwhile, a few miles away, down in the floodplain, a ghostly network of streets still marks the skeleton of the old town. A few scattered houses – of folks who did not want to make the move or those who lived outside the town limits and could not get disaster relief – remain. The old city hall still stands, as do the old churches (one of which is still operational). The old school and water tower (emblazoned with the town name) also punctuate the flatness of the floodplain. Surrounding these scattered structures, however, there is nothing but cornfields. Most of the old buildings and houses have been moved or demolished. Nothing remains along Main Street, except for a lone caboose amidst the fields of corn stubble (Figure 3).

The old town has been preserved, indirectly, however. In 1998, the movie “Ride With the Devil,” directed by Ang Lee, used old Pattonsburg as a standin for Civil-War era Lawrence, Kansas. The film takes place during the border wars between Kansas and Missouri, and revolves around William Quantrill’s sacking and burning of Lawrence, the bastion of free-state sentiment. Set designers remade the flood-ravaged Pattonsburg with plank sidewalks, dirt streets, and fixed-up storefronts, and many locals were extras in the film. The faux-Lawrence met the same fate as the real Lawrence, and was put to the torch (with the help of smoke machines and propane jets). After filming, the last remnants of the downtown were demolished (as required by FEMA after the buyout), leaving few traces behind

there was a map, which I couldn't figure out how to save, but Kevin's memory was just about right on. there is still an operating church and an old caboose. old city hall and water tower and school. some boarded up houses and streets. and cornfields.