After Bob Ford shot Jesse, all "hell" seemed to break loose. Jesse's wife was hysterical. There was Zerelda – the mother – to be notified, the authorities came and got Jesse's body, crowds gathered, pictures of his body were taken, an autopsy was performed, there was an inquest and Bob and Charlie Ford were arrested and charged with Jesse's murder. Finally, Jesse's body was released and his coffin was placed on a train that took him back to Kearney, amidst crowds of hundreds, where he was buried in the yard of the old farmhouse where he was born.
For 20 years, Zerelda slept with her bed positioned catty-corner so she could see Jesse's grave out the window – a pistol under her pillow. Her goal was to protect her beloved son's grave from the varmints that might have it in mind to rob the outlaw's final resting place.
But by 1902, Zerelda's health wasn't so good and she was no longer living at the farm where she could watch over his grave.
Another change had occurred as well. On November 13, 1900, Zee – Jesse's wife – had died at the age of 55 in Kansas City, where she had lived ever since Jesse had died. Zee had been sick with the grip, essentially the common term at the time for influenza. The St. Louis Republic Nov. 14, 1900 edition had as it's front page headline: "Jesse James's Widow is Dead: Her Passing Recalls the Many Hardships Which She Endured As A Bandit's Wife."
Some say Zee died of a broken heart. She never recovered from Jesse's death and lived in poverty the rest of her life, eking out a living as a seamstress. She was described as a good Christian woman who wore her widow's clothing and veil for the rest of her life. She was quiet and set a good example for her children, according to the article.
With Zee's passing and Zerelda moving away from the farm, it was time to exhume Jesse's body and move it to be buried next to his wife in Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Kearney.
On June 23, 1902, Jesse James, Jr., wrote to Warren Welch, one of the James brother's guerrilla comrades from Quantrill's Raiders, requesting his presence at the exhumation and reburial of Jesse, set for Sunday, June 29.
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| A copy of the letter to former bushwhacker Warren Welch from Jesse Junior, requesting Welch attend the exhumation and reburial of Jesse James. (Photo courtesy of the Jesse James Farm & Museum) |
(Note: It has been argued that Zerelda did not know Jesse was to be exhumed until it had been done, or that she was not told of the day and time – an effort made most likely to keep her from attending the gruesome exhumation)
Robertus Love, a reporter for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, was present for the reburial and reported on the events of that day.
"The date was Sunday, June 29, 1902. It was a rainy morning and many believed the reburial would be postponed. Jesse James Jr., had come to Kearney from Kansas City the previous night and found his uncle, Frank James, sick in bed, suffering from an attack of the grip.
"On Sunday morning, Jesse Jr. went to the home of John T. Samuel, half-brother to Jesse and Frank, who also lived in town. These two, along with Zach Laffoon, the grave digger, and his nephew and assistant, Zip Pollock, drove through the rain out to the Samuel farm. They also carried a new black coffin with a silver nameplate in the wagon. They reached the farmhouse shortly after 5 a.m., and set to work in the heavy rain to open the grave while James and Samuel stood nearby. The earth turned to mud fairly quickly."
I can only imagine the thought running through the mind of Jesse Junior as he watched Laffoon and Pollock dig his father up. He had been a mere lad the day his father was killed and seen his father lying in a pool of blood on the parlor floor, Bob Ford standing there with a smoking pistol in his hand.
It took almost four hours to reach Jesse's coffin and as the two men tried to pull the coffin out of the mud-laden ground, it gave way – the top and the sides of the casket breaking away with the bottom falling back into the grave. Jesse's skeleton, still in its clothing, was lying exposed to the pouring rain.
"The men stepped down into the grave and lifted the bottom up with the body on it to the top. The foot came up first and unfortunately, the skull rolled back into the grave." (St. Louis Post-Dispatch, 1902)
"Laffoon picked it up (the skull) and replaced it. As the coffin bottom was being turned around above ground, once again the skull rolled off and dropped down to the bottom of the grave. This time Pollock jumped down and retrieved it." (St. Louis Post-Dispatch, 1902)
The idea of the gregarious, aggressive, charming, once so full-of-life Jesse James' skull rolling around in the mud is appalling and had to be difficult for his son and half-brother to watch.
Once Pollock got his hands firmly on Jesse's skull, he handed it over to J.T. Samuel who examined it. The St. Louis reporter asked him what he was looking for, to which he replied, "Bob Ford's bullet hole."
J.T. found it – a little more than an inch behind the left ear, as large as a quarter. A small piece of the skull above it had broken in, leaving the hole not quite completely spherical-shaped.
Jesse Junior also examined the skull looking for his father's tell-tale gold-filled teeth. They were there, reaffirming to him that this was, indeed, his father.
Laffoon and Pollock lifted up the coffin bottom and scraped the skeleton into the new casket. Jesse's hands were folded over his chest and the coffin closed. The men carried the coffin into the parlor of the farmhouse where once Jesse lived and played. It would sit there until later that day when the group of pallbearers, Frank and Zerelda came to escort Jesse to his final resting place – next to his beloved wife, Zee.
(Note: the above description of Jesse's hands being folded back over his chest was per the reporter on the scene. It was reported during the 1995 exhumation that Jesse's body was face down, thus no hands were folded neatly over his chest. There was much speculation during that exhumation about why he was face down, but I have long since determined to my own satisfaction that Laffoon and Pollock were exhuming Jesse in the pouring rain, had the coffin break apart on them, had difficulty getting the skeleton out of the grave and into the new coffin – and as described by the reporter – they scraped the skeleton into the new coffin ... which may very well have landed face down ... coffin shut – end of story)
Zerelda had not been told that Jesse was being disinterred until Jesse Junior and J.T. returned to the Burlington Hotel where she and Frank were staying. There is no telling how Zee felt about her boy being exhumed. It had to be difficult for her, yet she must have resigned herself that he was being moved to a safer place, where hopefully, his body would never be disturbed again.
Little did she know.
Frank was still in bed at the hotel, but sitting up and receiving seven of Quantrill's former guerrillas, six of whom were to be the pallbearers: Hi George, Bill Gregg, Frank Gregg, Warren Welch, Sam Whitsett and B.F. Morrow.
Frank was advised not to get out of bed, especially with the rain pouring down, but he had missed his brother's first funeral and wasn't about to miss this one.
The group had a meal in the dining room of the hotel around 11:30 a.m., and then headed out to the farm. By then the rain had slowed to a drizzle.
Slowly, the wagons took the rutted, dirt road to the old James Farm, crossing Muddy Creek, where Jesse had been baptized in 1868.
By the time they arrived at the farm, the rain had stopped, the sun popping out just as the men carried the coffin out of the old farmhouse.
They loaded the coffin into the wagon and stood back, waiting while Jesse's mother, proud, old and bent – but a mother first and foremost – walked to the edge of the old grave and stared into the hole where her son had lain for 20 years under her watchful eye.
She did not view her son's skeleton.
Hundreds came to Mt. Olivet to watch the caravan of family and old friends bury their son, brother, father, comrade. I can imagine some in the crowd might have whispered about the outlaw, but most were respectful. Jesse was, after all, one of their own.
The cemetery was the original location of the old Baptist Church that Jesse had joined in 1868 in an attempt to redeem his troubled conscience.
"No sound could be heard except that of Mrs. Samuel ... crying during the 20 minutes it took to carry the coffin from the hearse and lower it to the ground. A preacher stood by, but there was no religious ceremony." (St. Louis Post-Dispatch, 1902)
It couldn't have been easy for Zerelda, who had suffered through the loss of her first husband, an abusive second husband, the hanging and torture of her third husband, the death of her little Archie and loss of her right hand from the ill-fated Pinkerton's raid in 1875, the death of her daughter, Mary in 1889, and of course, death of her beloved Jesse in 1882. Now, here she was watching him be buried all over again.
"Frank James stood bareheaded at the head of the grave beside his mother, and Jesse Junior, turning away as the last the last shovelful of dirt was thrown on the grave." (St. Louis Post-Dispatch, 1902)
I'm sure Frank had a million thoughts running through his head. At the time Jesse was killed, he was living in Baltimore, Md., and was trying to figure out how to return to Missouri and surrender without being lynched himself. He had not been able to say a proper goodbye to Jesse that first time.
What were his thoughts? A moment of the brothers sitting on the porch after a family dinner with their wives, boots propped up on the porch rail – the two brothers laughing at some private joke as siblings often do? Or the desperate flight from Northfield, Minnesota those crazy weeks in September 1876 – just the two of them, each looking out for the other.
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| A group of us historians visited Jesse's grave on the 130th anniversary of his death in 2012. From left: Me - Liz Johnson; James historian and author Michelle Pollard (from England); Verla Dickey; James family historian Liz Murphy; Linda Emley – Ray County Museum; and Pat Gradwohl – Clay County Historical Society. (Photo by James historian Linda Brookshier) |
Yet, as his stood at the head of his brother's grave, his mother rigid by his side, watching the men shovel the last of the dirt onto the new coffin, he turned away and said, "Well boys, that's all we can do."
This would not be the last of Jesse's exhumations. And, despite the positive identification by his wife, son, mother and law enforcement at the time of his death; as well as the positive identification by Jesse Junior and J.T. Samuel in 1902, stories would abound for decades – rife with innuendo and claims that Jesse James did not die in St. Joseph on April 3, 1882 – but that he faked his death, moved away and started a new family – living out his life.
Nevertheless, DNA testing over 90 years after the first exhumation, would prove beyond a doubt that Jesse James was indeed the man who died in 1882.
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