Memories of Buffville

My An Arkie's Faith column from the November 3, 2021, issue of The Polk County Pulse.

A couple of years ago, I made a trip to southeastern Kansas with my Daddy. He had grown up in the area, and we visited places filled with nostalgia. I had a wonderful time reliving old memories. My cousin, Don, drove us around the countryside, showing us the places where family members had lived. I had a wonderful time reminiscing and hearing family stories.

Memories of the trip came flooding back last week when I received a large manilla envelope in the mail. When I opened it, there were several photocopied pages along with a handwritten note that said, “Richie, I am sending you a copy of this I found in my mom’s things. Thought you might like it.” It was from my cousin Darlene. The photocopies were of my Uncle Lloyd’s letter to my cousin Elsie, dated November 8, 1992. The title, neatly written across the top of the first page, was Memories of Buffville. One of the places Daddy and I visited on our trip to Kansas was the ghost town of Buffville, where he had been born. 

In his letter, Uncle Loyd wrote, “the north shale pit was a thing close to paradise for me when I first came to Buffville in June 1928. It had been abandoned when springs of water made it impossible to take any more shale out of it. All of the boys in Buffville swam in the north pit, and in summer, we would go swimming several times a day. Even after school started, we would go swimming before school in the morning. Since we didn’t have indoor plumbing, it was a very convenient way to take a bath. We boys did a lot of fishing there too; sometimes, we could sell the perch to people for a penny each. The water was so clear we could watch the little fish take hold of the bait and drag them in.”

The history of ghost towns is not always easy to trace. Most ghost towns originally grew up around some business venture. Buffville, Kansas, is not any different. In 1903 the Kansas Buff Brick Company opened their plant just a couple of miles south of Altoona. Buffville’s history starts with an identity crisis. It was first known as Buff City, but in February 1910, the name changed to Buffton. Starting on September 2 of that year,  it was known as Buffington for ten days, then back to Buffton for one day, and finally it was called Buffville from September 13, 1910, until the post office closed on October 31, 1943.

Even though the town’s birth can be pinpointed to either 1903, when the Kansas Buff Brick Company started operation, or 1910 when the Post Office opened, the death of the village was not quite so clear cut. Kansas Buff Brick sold out to the United Brick & Tile Co. in 1929, and the plant closed not long after. The Post Office closed in 1943, and the last students went to school there in 1950. By the 1970s, there was no evidence of the thriving community of Buffville.

In her book, Opal Lawry Vega’s Memories, my Aunt Opal wrote, “Grandma and Grandpa moved to Buffville. Grandpa Reeve went to work at the brickyard. All the people who lived there worked at the brickyard. There was a small store and a rooming house. My father stayed at the rooming house. Mom and Aunt Lola delivered milk to the boarding house, and Daddy began talking to them and then walked home with them and then would sit on the porch and talk. Mom and Daddy were married on September 30, 1927. Daddy had been married before and had a son, Lloyd, about nine years of age. 

We lived in Buffville until the brickyard closed down. I was born there. Daddy did whatever he could find to do, mostly on farms. Of course, it was the depression years, and no one had much. We lived in a farmhouse near Buffville when Delbert was born. Daddy and Grandpa were in Colorado harvesting broom corn at that time.

That house burned down while we were all away. I was barefoot, and my shoes burned up. We lived with Grandpa and Grandma in Buffville for a while. Daddy and Uncle Pete made a living by driving to Joplin, Missouri, to buy fruit and vegetables to sell door to door. We later moved back to Buffville. Grandpa and Grandma still lived there and a few other families and Fred’s Store. We had a cow, and sometimes Daddy would let me ride her when he took her to the shale pit for water. Bob was born there. We called him Bobby Bill as they couldn’t decide what to call him, Bobby or Billy.”

My Daddy’s family was part of the Buffville community for several years. My Grandpa and Great-Grandpa worked at the brickyard. In Uncle Lloyds letter, he wrote about the work. “The south pit was used to supply shale to make brick. My Daddy, Ben Lawry’s job was to load small metal cars with shale and push them on a narrow-gauge track to the bottom of an inclined ramp where a power cable would pull them up to the place they could be dumped. Each car held one half cubic yards of shale, and Daddy got twenty-five cents for each one he loaded. It was hard brutal work. Grandpa Urban Reeve ran the dry pit where the shale was ground to a powder for brickmaking.”

Buffville holds so many memories for my family, but today there is nothing left to identify the community other than the shale pits. Even though there is nothing physical left, the memories live on as long as there is someone to keep them alive. Civil rights activist Rosa Parks wrote, “memories of our lives, of our works and our deeds will continue in others.” 

Gentle Reader, be grateful for the places and people who have been special to you. Cherish your memories and take nothing for granted. Remember that many things, like the community of Buffville, disappear from view. But memories are the only thing that no one can destroy. Lucy Maud Montgomery put it this way, “nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.” But if we don’t remember, things can be lost. It is vital to exercise our memories. “So be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you don’t forget the things which you have seen with your own eyes. Don’t let them fade from your memory as long as you live. Teach them to your children and grandchildren.” Deuteronomy 4:9 (GW)