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My Home Town
PONCE DE LEON, THE GHOST OF A ONCE GREAT SPA TOWN
by
James F "Jim" Barrett
Most school children that have paid any
attention to their history classes know who Ponce De Leon was. They know he was a Spanish grandee of
the 1500’s, an explorer who came to this nation seeking to satisfy his
firm belief that Florida, or some of the lands attached to Florida,
contained the fabled “Fountain of Youth.” That fountain was supposedly able to restore the aged and
ailing to youth and to the vigorous good health of youth. It is very doubtful that Ponce De Leon
ever made it to the Ozarks.
However, his name made it here and may, perhaps, stay here
forever.
South of Springfield, north of
Reeds Spring, and not too far off to the west of The Wilderness Road (now
Mo. 160), lies the remains of a little town. If one goes there today, in 2003, one sees very little of
great historic importance. No
beautiful or ornate buildings, no great tree shaded boulevards, no
handsome old streetlamps, not much of anything. But there is evidence aplenty of the springs that once upon
a time made this place into the largest town, and the most interesting,
in all of Stone County Missouri.
Like most such stories, this
one must start with the Indians.
For these people, long before the White Man came with his
medicines and liquor, knew the healing properties of herbs, plants,
sunshine, fresh air and the mysterious mineral waters that welled up from
deep within Mother Earth. The
Indians showed the early white settlers several springs flowing from the
rock ledges and crevices of a large and quite lovely tree shaded, moss
and fern grown valley. These
springs, they claimed, had quite useful healing and restorative
qualities. The white men drank
from them, washed in them and used them, as white folk will do. Soon, they too began to claim
restoration and cures of sufferings and ills – particularly of rashes and
skin complaints. Like “Hadacol”
of our past century, and other “nostrums” and snake-oil marvels of our
past – news of the supposed curative powers of the clear and cold waters
in this beautiful valley quickly spread far and wide. The power of “word of mouth”
recommendations is well known.
Though I have never seen the
“main” spring myself, I am told it still exists somewhere up the
mountainsides. I am told that it
once upon a time tumbled copiously, free, clear, cold and wild down the
mountain to a little creek, or series of diverting creeks in the valley
below. I have only seen many of
the lesser springs and seeps along the still accessible old roadway
there. But the spring was once
upon a time active and handsome, and a number of white folk came to live
nearby on a permanent basis. The
Wades, Glossips and Klines were some of the first. But many another family soon joined
them where building logs, stone, firewood, fresh water, wild game and
fowl were plentiful and easily obtained.
Soon, they too were claiming health benefits for the fine waters
of their mountainside and valley.
And the word-of-mouth continued to spread until it finally reached
receptive ears in Springfield.
Two entrepreneurs, Mr. R.
Stotan and Fountain Welch, who owned a streetcar line in Springfield,
heard of the springs. One day, in
1875, they went south to visit the place. They stayed long enough to fall in love with the tranquil
beauty of the valley, the handsome falls from the springs and the legends
of cures and restorations that everyone there was more than willing to
attest to. They went away
carrying with them a dream of a prosperous opportunity they could bring
to fruition, if they could find other investors. Being entrepreneurs, they soon found
eager ears, willing investors and healthy purses. They returned to the valley and began
their developmental works. They
planned to turn this wilderness place of beauty into a paradise spa,
where the sick and injured, the halt and lame, the tired and weary, the
weak and despondent could come to be cared for, “take the waters” and be
returned to health – if not to very youth! And, as they cleared, built, dreamed and promoted – the new
town’s name was born – a living testimony to the man who searched the
world for this very thing, a fountain of youth. They called their new town, Ponce De Leon, in honor of that
ancient Spanish searcher.
Soon there were bathhouses,
streets, bridges over the little streams that seemed to be running
everywhere, and other comfortable accommodations, which every growing
town needs. The word of mouth
spread far and wide and soon throngs of people came to Ponce De Leon to
“take the waters.” To bathe,
drink, sooth their worrisome skins and mentally and emotionally prepare
themselves to be healed, cured, restored. And many and many of them were so improved – testament to
the powers of the mysterious mineral waters in which the Indians had
first so deeply believed and revered.
Before long one of the original investor founders, Fountain Welch,
came to live in Ponce, where he resided in health and comfort for some
twenty years.
Before long Ponce had grown to
over a thousand in population. It
had bath houses, a hotel, places for the care of the sick and halt, as
well as a grist mill, flour mill, saw mill, and a tomato canning
factory. All of the latter
depended upon large quantities of fresh flowing water to run their works,
and Ponce supplied them all. Soon
the town was big enough to be incorporated and became a real little city,
the largest and most prosperous in Stone County at the time. Then came John T. Nelson, a well to do
farmer and mill owner from Springfield.
He planned to establish a distillery in Ponce, using its adequate
supply of cold clear spring waters in his still. Fountain Welch was appointed to the
job of gager, for the distillery was under Federal control, regulation
and scrutiny. Soon Mr. Nelson
owned interests in the still, the flourmill, the hotel, the sawmill and a
retail store. Mr. Nelson became
quite a character in the area, where he was known as Peg-leg John, for he
had lost one leg in a battle during the Civil War.
Another interesting character in the Ponce area was Charlie
A. Stinert, who was granted the right to homestead 160 nearby acres. His homestead, once railroad land
lying along Goff Creek, became the Stinert Addition to Ponce De.
Leon. A soldier-bugler in the
Civil War, Mr. Stinert was once commissioned to seek and slay the
notorious Alf Bolin, of Bushwhacker infamy. However, the closest Charlie ever got to winning the task
was to take a pot-shot at Alf, down along Goff Creek, but he missed the
mark.
The first church in Ponce was
built where the old post office eventually stood, in 1961, but it may
have fallen down by now. About
1900, plans were made to build a unified faith church on top of the hill,
to be made of permanent materials.
The Union Church was built of quarried stone furnished by a Mr.
Darlin. The Glossips, Wades and
Bradfords made contributions for the cost of the church. The Union Church housed the Christian
Church, the Baptist Church and the Methodist Church, all at different
hours on Sunday, it is to be assumed.
The old stone building was still standing in the middle of the
last century.
Sadly enough, the glory of
Ponce did not long endure.
Founded in 1875, it found itself starting to decline and fade as
early as 1885. By the turn of the
century many of the town’s buildings had been moved or torn down for
salvage while others were simply allowed to go to ruin. Flash floods in the narrow valley
swept away the gristmill and other buildings during this time. The oldest house remaining in Ponce in
the latter part of the last century (about 1961) was the Dr. Wade House,
owned at the time by one Curtis Glossip.
The steam-sawed oak lumber and beams for that home were hauled
from distant Arkansas by freight wagons pulled by Oxen on the old
Wilderness Road, built by Joe Philibert and W. W. Kimberling after the
Civil War.
All that remains of Ponce is a
little sub-post-office, receiving mail from Galena, and two or three
small stores. The youngsters go
to school in Abesville, which sprang up about the time Ponce was in its
latter decline. Old timers dream
of Ponce once again returning to greatness and beauty – but it’s not
likely. It DID happen in another
medical spa town, Eureka Springs, down in Arkansas, but the situation was
vastly different there. Eureka
has returned to vigorous, colorful and exciting life because it has
become a potent art colony, tourist Mecca and a place of old fashioned
beauty and great interest. Its
spas and mineral baths have passed long ago and remain closed to this
day. That sort of spa-health, so
very popular in the latter 1800’s has faded away and been lost, perhaps
forever.
Ponce De Leon, like
its human namesake is little more than a ghost these days.
Copyright 2003
James F "Jim" Barrett
All rights
reserved
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