THE MYSTERY OF EMPORIA

“The last place on earth”

—Emporia Gazette

June 17, 1901

The last place on earth—

Where one would look for

The development of suicidal mania—

Would be Kansas, you’d think

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And the last spot in Kansas—

Where such a insidious tendency

Might be expected to manifest—

Itself would surely be Emporia

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Travelers on the great Santa Fe—

Railway system always on the lookout

For this goodly god-fearing town—

Craning their necks far out the windows

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When the train passes through town—

To catch a glimpse of the stately ESU

Standing at the head of Commercial Street—

With its lovely campus and Sunken Garden

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Obtaining a view of the handsome other—

College on the hill, built by the Presbyterians

Yes, such an enchanting pastoral scene –

An Emerald City setting for the Land of Oz

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Emporia the town with its wide, clean—

Thoroughfares intersecting the tracks

Opening up one leaf vistas after another—

To the eye of the bug-eyed gawking tourist

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Fresh and comely faces of pretty girls—

Dainty little sluts of Kansas provincialism

The dirty-faced ruffian young male hustlers—

Always seen hanging around  the station

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Even amongst these petulant prostitutes—

There are no tokens of disaffection or misery

There’s a certain note of cheerfulness—

Even in the clamor of the swishing chicken

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And in the barrooms and dancehalls—

Even the lounge lizards manage a brief smile

Anyone acquainted with these Emporians—

Has the impression they’re fortunate & gay

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Several fashionable clubs stimulate—

The social activities of the little community

The intellectual development of the ladies—

Assured through some literary organizations

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The masculine youth of the town—

Betake themselves to wholesome, manly sports

Finding a fruitful source of pleasure—

In baseball teams there in Soden Grove

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The arts aren’t neglected, of course—

A brass band of rare excellence plays loudly

Bidding boredom begone and throwing

A gauntlet in the face of mere melancholy

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In order that there may be pleasure for all—

The Lyon County Fair and Rodeo

A busy roller skating rink and natatorium—

Offer allurements to those who embrace them

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Why of all the places on this great globe—

Should Emporia be selected as the murder scene?

Scene of so many successive suicides—

Hundreds of them coming one after the other?

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That’s the question puzzling everybody—

All the people of the town who don’t have a clue

Perhaps suicide never has a simple answer—

But within a year there’ve been 1000 deaths

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A thousand attempts at self destruction—

In and about Emporia as well as little Olpe

It baffles the understanding of even

The wisest citizen and defies explanation

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Most analytical observers think that—

The mystery is even more profound than that

In many cases it’s caused by love—

Whether disappointment or homosexuality

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Rather than being induced by poverty—

And hunger, it’s due to an abundance of cock

Induced by cute FFA farmboys in the know—

And encouraged by their tender associations

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As well as the fellowship of cattlemen—

And their young handsome sons of the range

The very air of Kansas is filled with romance—

And in Emporia it’s surcharged with sentiment

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Why the cumly cowboys of the prairie—

Are such ruddy swains of the gay community

Crossed in love and seeking relief—

In muddy creeks & mighty Cottonwood Rivers

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Is surely past all human understanding—

What beat-up pickups and cowboy boots induce?

It used to be accounted for by a dull year—

At the State Normal School in Emporia

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When the single teachers didn't marry off—

And most boys and girls were vulnerable

The malign influence of weed has spread itself—

Like a noxious pestilence throughout the land

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Perhaps it’s Acapulco Gold that does it—

Luring young people to death by rash deeds?

The mayor of the city, the Gazette editor—

Both have evidently gone into the subject

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With much gravity and earnestness—

Trying to account for this queer mania

On the theory of imitative crime—

And have forbidden the Granada & Strand

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From exploiting gays and suicide—

And not even making any mention of them

There may be some basis for this conviction—

In this town with houses of gay repute

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Where dope and other vanities of the flesh—

Lure youth to experiment with Sodom sin

But it appears hardly tenable to believe—

That the influence of example should apply

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So many of the community are gay anyway—

The YMCA and Peter Pan Park tearooms testify

Perhaps it’s best to keep quiet and still—

And let the secret marriages of lost youth

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Continue to flourish and provoke suicide—

So that sooner or later they’ll all be gone

Dearly departed like they surely should be—

Buried in Maplewood like good girls should

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You must excuse me now, I’ve got a date—

The rodeo cowboys of Strong City await!!!