HISTORY
Constructed in 1858 by D.W. Houston, the Garnett House commenced operations as a hotel in the fall of the same year, overseen by Mr. Hiram Tefft. Nestled at the picturesque junction of Fourth Avenue and Walnut in Garnett, Kansas, a town renowned for its charm and amicable locals, this venerable edifice holds a cherished position within the community. As the town's inaugural hotel, it underwent numerous expansions in subsequent years, cementing its status as an iconic landmark.
An article from the 1800s spoke of how Mrs. Houston refused to stay in the original structure due to its swaying in the breeze, marking a departure from the prevalent log cabin designs of the era and establishing the 1858 Garnett House as a trailblazing architectural marvel in the region. Evolving through various ownerships and name changes, including The Garnett House, The Commercial House, and The Lighthouse Hotel, the latter earning its name from a lantern atop the top floor; visible from miles around.
Noteworthy for its survival as an antebellum relic, the Garnett House has now borne witness to nearly 170 years of history, notably serving as a focal point of the underground railroad in the area. Amidst the turbulent era of "Bleeding Kansas," it reportedly harbored escaped slaves in its attic under the covert protection of the renowned Abolitionist John Brown, an event believed to have unfolded circa 1859, just prior to the American Civil War.
During the vibrant 1870s, Garnett blossomed into a lively frontier town, reminiscent of scenes from the Old West, with saloons, brothels, and gunfights in the streets. Amidst this dynamic epoch, the Garnett House welcomed illustrious guests, including legendary lawmen Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and Wild Bill Hickock. Notable figures such as Buffalo Bill Cody, accompanied by Hickock, and the renowned female cowboy shooter Belle Starr graced the hotel. The notorious outlaw Jesse James is also believed to have sought refuge here under one of his many aliases.
Beyond its hospitality role, the Garnett House served diverse functions over the years, doubling as a jail for criminals awaiting trial, a schoolhouse, tenements, and even a photography studio. Possibly eluding the local newspaper and media, there have been multiple stories that tell of the time when the building was used as a brothel. On September 11th, 1885, the Orphan Train made its inaugural stop in Garnett, KS, with homeless children temporarily housed within the 1858 Garnett House. The overwhelming crowd necessitated a swift relocation of the event to a nearby church.
In the early 1950s, the building underwent yet another transformation, operating as a Doctor's Office under the management of a husband and wife doctor duo. Their commitment to the community endured, with patients receiving treatment within the historic walls up until the 21st Century. A testament to resilience and adaptability, the 1858 Garnett House Hotel remains an integral part of Garnett's ever-evolving narrative.
HOTEL GUESTS
THE tragedy OF WIDOW DUREN
In the summer of 1857, Mrs. Adaline Duren, a widow, and her two children relocated to Garnett from Louisville, Kentucky. Their home only a stones throw from the soon to be built 1858 Garnett House Hotel.
Come August 1864, a town lecture on the science of phrenology drew the attention of most citizens, including Mary, Widow Duren's daughter. Widow Duren, left alone at home since her son Junius was away on business, immersed herself in solitary reading. Upon Mary's return from the lecture, she discovered open doors, illuminated lamps, and her mother's abandoned book on the floor. Nearby, a large pool of blood intensified the alarming scene. Mary quickly raised the alarm, prompting neighbors to join a frantic search for Widow Duren.
In the northwest corner of the house, they discovered the brutally mutilated and defiled body of Widow Duren. The following day, a coroner's jury convened, launching an investigation that revealed she had suffered a severe blow to the head, nearly crushing her skull and severing her neck. Bloody handprints scattered around the crime scene raised suspicions, but potential suspects could not be definitively linked to the gruesome murder.
Later that day, investigators stumbled upon a set of blood-stained clothes belonging to John Warren, a free African-American working for D. W. Houston, the original builder of the 1858 Garnett House Hotel. Living in the hotel's attic, Warren was swiftly apprehended and brought to Mohler’s Hall to face the town committee.
Under questioning, Warren provided conflicting accounts to explain the blood on his clothing, all dismissed as further examination revealed additional blood on his legs and shoes. Finally, he confessed to the heinous crime.
According to his testimony, Warren went to Mrs. Duren’s house on the fateful night, finding her reading at her bureau. Striking her with an axe, he assaulted her before she regained consciousness. As she tried to escape through the west door, Warren intercepted her, delivering fatal blows with the axe and proceeded to defile her lifeless body once more. After disposing of the weapon, he returned to his room at the Garnett House Hotel and went to bed.
Given the overwhelming evidence of his guilt and the absence of a completed jail in Anderson County, it was decided that Warren should be hanged promptly. The execution took place the following day at 1:00 PM at the scaffolding of the unfinished jail, witnessed by the largest public gathering in Garnett at that time. A bandstand now stands where Warren met his fate.
While it may be argued that John Warren fell victim to mob violence, it is crucial to consider the context: a majority of the local men were away in the Army, and heightened tension prevailed due to the presence of the Confederate Army at Mine Creek simultaneously with the murder.
As you peer up into the attic at the Garnett House Hotel, remember this tragic incident,
an inerasable part of the building's darker history.
Come August 1864, a town lecture on the science of phrenology drew the attention of most citizens, including Mary, Widow Duren's daughter. Widow Duren, left alone at home since her son Junius was away on business, immersed herself in solitary reading. Upon Mary's return from the lecture, she discovered open doors, illuminated lamps, and her mother's abandoned book on the floor. Nearby, a large pool of blood intensified the alarming scene. Mary quickly raised the alarm, prompting neighbors to join a frantic search for Widow Duren.
In the northwest corner of the house, they discovered the brutally mutilated and defiled body of Widow Duren. The following day, a coroner's jury convened, launching an investigation that revealed she had suffered a severe blow to the head, nearly crushing her skull and severing her neck. Bloody handprints scattered around the crime scene raised suspicions, but potential suspects could not be definitively linked to the gruesome murder.
Later that day, investigators stumbled upon a set of blood-stained clothes belonging to John Warren, a free African-American working for D. W. Houston, the original builder of the 1858 Garnett House Hotel. Living in the hotel's attic, Warren was swiftly apprehended and brought to Mohler’s Hall to face the town committee.
Under questioning, Warren provided conflicting accounts to explain the blood on his clothing, all dismissed as further examination revealed additional blood on his legs and shoes. Finally, he confessed to the heinous crime.
According to his testimony, Warren went to Mrs. Duren’s house on the fateful night, finding her reading at her bureau. Striking her with an axe, he assaulted her before she regained consciousness. As she tried to escape through the west door, Warren intercepted her, delivering fatal blows with the axe and proceeded to defile her lifeless body once more. After disposing of the weapon, he returned to his room at the Garnett House Hotel and went to bed.
Given the overwhelming evidence of his guilt and the absence of a completed jail in Anderson County, it was decided that Warren should be hanged promptly. The execution took place the following day at 1:00 PM at the scaffolding of the unfinished jail, witnessed by the largest public gathering in Garnett at that time. A bandstand now stands where Warren met his fate.
While it may be argued that John Warren fell victim to mob violence, it is crucial to consider the context: a majority of the local men were away in the Army, and heightened tension prevailed due to the presence of the Confederate Army at Mine Creek simultaneously with the murder.
As you peer up into the attic at the Garnett House Hotel, remember this tragic incident,
an inerasable part of the building's darker history.
THE BLACK WIDOW murderess
Nestled within the walls of the 1858 Garnett House Hotel, an enigmatic figure awaited her fate, shrouded in suspicion and whispers of foul play. Sarah Potter, a woman of striking presence, found herself embroiled in a web of intrigue and tragedy that gripped the small community between 1859 and 1860.
The Alderman family, comprising Henry and Hannah, opened their doors to Sarah, who soon became a fixture in their household. It was a quaint existence, marked by neighborly bonds and the serene landscapes of North Pottowatomie. Yet, beneath the tranquil facade, dark currents flowed.
Leon Phillips, a prominent figure in the area, caught Sarah's eye, and under Mr. Alderman's influence, their union blossomed in the winter of 1860. However, their marital bliss proved short-lived. Within weeks, Leon fell gravely ill, his condition rapidly deteriorating until death claimed him. Sarah's insistence on a will, bequeathing her half of Leon's estate, raised eyebrows and sowed seeds of suspicion among those who knew him.
The shadow of doubt deepened when experts concluded that Leon's demise was due to arsenic poisoning, implicating Sarah and the Aldermans in a sinister conspiracy. While the Aldermans managed to evade the grasp of justice, Sarah found herself confined to the Garnett House Hotel, her purported sanctuary turned into a gilded cage of uncertainty.
For three long months, Sarah languished within the hotel's walls, her every move likely scrutinized by the watchful eyes of the community, yet she was allowed enough freedom within to have visitors come and go. Were they simply offering solace or perhaps seeking clues to unravel the mystery that surrounded her? Yet, despite the veneer of civility, darkness lurked in the shadows, waiting to engulf her once more.
Then came the fateful evening when Sarah vanished without a trace, leaving behind a whirlwind of speculation and unanswered questions. A mysterious buggy whisked her away, its origin and destination shrouded in secrecy, adding another layer of mystique to an already baffling tale.
In 1862, Sarah reemerged in Kansas, having remarried and established a new life in distant Cincinnati. Yet, the specter of her past loomed large as she faced renewed accusations of murder. Despite attempts to elude capture, she found herself ensnared in the clutches of justice once more.
Her trial in Lawrence, Kansas, captured the imagination of the public, drawing crowds eager for a glimpse into the enigma of Sarah Potter. The proceedings ended in a deadlock, leaving the truth obscured by the veil of uncertainty. A mistrial was declared, and the case faded into obscurity, buried beneath layers of intrigue and speculation.
Released on bail, Sarah vanished into the mists of history, her ultimate fate a subject of endless speculation and conjecture. The echoes of her tale reverberated through the corridors of time, a haunting reminder of the fragility of truth and the enduring allure of mystery.
The Alderman family, comprising Henry and Hannah, opened their doors to Sarah, who soon became a fixture in their household. It was a quaint existence, marked by neighborly bonds and the serene landscapes of North Pottowatomie. Yet, beneath the tranquil facade, dark currents flowed.
Leon Phillips, a prominent figure in the area, caught Sarah's eye, and under Mr. Alderman's influence, their union blossomed in the winter of 1860. However, their marital bliss proved short-lived. Within weeks, Leon fell gravely ill, his condition rapidly deteriorating until death claimed him. Sarah's insistence on a will, bequeathing her half of Leon's estate, raised eyebrows and sowed seeds of suspicion among those who knew him.
The shadow of doubt deepened when experts concluded that Leon's demise was due to arsenic poisoning, implicating Sarah and the Aldermans in a sinister conspiracy. While the Aldermans managed to evade the grasp of justice, Sarah found herself confined to the Garnett House Hotel, her purported sanctuary turned into a gilded cage of uncertainty.
For three long months, Sarah languished within the hotel's walls, her every move likely scrutinized by the watchful eyes of the community, yet she was allowed enough freedom within to have visitors come and go. Were they simply offering solace or perhaps seeking clues to unravel the mystery that surrounded her? Yet, despite the veneer of civility, darkness lurked in the shadows, waiting to engulf her once more.
Then came the fateful evening when Sarah vanished without a trace, leaving behind a whirlwind of speculation and unanswered questions. A mysterious buggy whisked her away, its origin and destination shrouded in secrecy, adding another layer of mystique to an already baffling tale.
In 1862, Sarah reemerged in Kansas, having remarried and established a new life in distant Cincinnati. Yet, the specter of her past loomed large as she faced renewed accusations of murder. Despite attempts to elude capture, she found herself ensnared in the clutches of justice once more.
Her trial in Lawrence, Kansas, captured the imagination of the public, drawing crowds eager for a glimpse into the enigma of Sarah Potter. The proceedings ended in a deadlock, leaving the truth obscured by the veil of uncertainty. A mistrial was declared, and the case faded into obscurity, buried beneath layers of intrigue and speculation.
Released on bail, Sarah vanished into the mists of history, her ultimate fate a subject of endless speculation and conjecture. The echoes of her tale reverberated through the corridors of time, a haunting reminder of the fragility of truth and the enduring allure of mystery.
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