The Mysterious Disappearance of a Kansas City Priest

By Diane Euston

When the phone rang at the rectory attached to Immaculate Conception at 11th and Broadway, the priests were preparing for confession. There was little to alert them of anything strange, as parishioners and laymen alike often called upon the men of the cloth.

Rev. Francis Hagedorn, 29, adjusted his shellrimmed glasses as he picked up the phone. After a short conversation, Rev. Hagedorn turned toward Rev. Cornelius D. “C.D.” McCarthy. “I’m going to 17th and Madison to make a sick call.”

Rev. McCarthy turned toward the young priest and nodded in acknowledgment, picking up his gold timepiece. Before he could alert Rev. Hagedorn of the time – it was just after 7:00 – he turned around as he walked toward the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can to assist with confession.”

With that, Rev. Hagedorn changed his clothes, dressing in a dark gray coat, brown scarf and soft black hat. He grabbed his prayer book and leather case full of holy oils and exited into the night.

It was Saturday, April 8, 1926. Rev. Hagedorn vanished, leaving few clues to what could have happened to the clergyman. For 16 months, Kansas Citians were left to speculate as to the whereabouts of a rising star within the Catholic Church.

The Birth of a Pious Priest

Born in 1897 outside of Monett, Mo., to German immigrant August Peter “A.P.” Hagedorn (1859-1946) and his wife, Kate (1860-1951), Francis Edward Hagedorn was the youngest of six children. Known as Frank to friends and family, the youngest boy quickly showed his keen abilities as a scholar.

Frank’s father, A.P., came to the United States when he was just 14 years old, and after a time living in St. Louis, moved to a farm six miles southeast of Pierce City where the Hagedorns settled into rural life.

But young Frank wasn’t fit for farm labor; he was more delicate than his siblings and thrived while immersed in his studies, especially drawn to theology and philosophy.

Devout Catholics, the Hagedorn’s were likely thrilled to see their young son embrace the faith. They enrolled young Frank at Conception College at Conception, Mo. where he impressed his classmates and the priests.

As a teenager during the first World War, Frank was sent to theology school at Saint Meinrad Seminary in Indiana. Established in 1857 by Benedictine monks, Frank would have likely received two years of philosophy courses and four years of theology while he trained for his ultimate goal- he wished to be a Catholic priest.

On May 15, 1921 at the age of 24, Frank became Rev. Francis Hagedorn when he was ordained by Bishop Thomas F. Lillis (1861-1938) at the mother church of the diocese, the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Kansas City, Mo. Bishop Lillis described Rev. Hagedorn as “remarkably brilliant throughout his course of educational work the church [had] to offer.”

After he was ordained, he was first sent to St. Peter and Paul Church in Boonville, Mo. and quickly became one of the most popular priests. In October 1922, the diocese sent him to the Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. for graduate work. In 1923, Rev. Francis Hagedorn wrote his thesis on “General Legislation on Indulgences” which was described as “masterly.”

By April 1925, Rev. Hagedorn was back in Kansas City, Mo. and working closely with Bishop Lillis and serving congregants at Immaculate Conception. Described as “intensely modest,” Rev. Hagedorn balanced his studies and research with the daily demands as a priest. In addition, he was serving as assistant secretary to Bishop Thomas Lillis.

The Baffling Disappearance

On Saturday, February 8, 1926, Rev. Hagedorn took a phone call at about 7:05 p.m. He announced, “I am going to 17th and Madison to make a sick call.” After changing his clothes, he was out the door less than five minutes later.

What happened after he walked out of the rectory at 416 W. 12th Street is a mystery.

When over an hour elapsed and Rev. Hagedorn failed to return to assist with confessions, Rev. McCaffrey and Rev. McCarthy became anxious. They canvassed the block in the darkness, walking at a fast pace toward 17th and Madison.

No one was ill. No one had called the parish office.

With few answers or clues available, Rev. McCarthy phoned the police. Two detectives showed up and an all-night search commenced.

One of the first leads uncovered came from a parishioner who saw the young priest between 7:30 and 7:45 on Broadway just south of 16th Street, walking back toward the Cathedral “at a usually rapid pace, his hands in his pocket.”

The detectives contacted the telephone operator who said there were no phone calls from the area where Rev. Hagedorn said he was heading, and further investigation “proved no one was ill at that residence or in need of a priest’s services.”

The next day, the news spread like wildfire. Newspapermen lined up to get the scoop on what police were speculating and what theories had emerged to this mysterious disappearance.

Police were considering robbery, kidnapping or “a mental aberration such as loss of memory” in the early hours of the investigation.

In a clump of weeds in a vacant lot in an alleyway on the north side of 16th Street between Broadway and Central, the priest’s prayer book, a leather case for holy oils and his empty billfold were found. A small gold-plated vial for holy oil was missing from the case.

Rev. McCarthy believed from the evidence discovered that Rev. Francis Hagedorn never reached his call, because the cotton in the holy oils container would have been used for anointing the sick- and it was clean.

Bishop Lillis was baffled. He told the newspapers that Rev. Hagedorn “had one of the most delicately balanced minds I ever have seen.”

Questionable Evidence Emerges

Rev. James A. McCaffrey told police early in the investigation that a week prior to Rev. Hagedorn’s disappearance, he suffered “a fainting spell” while working to test children for the parochial schools. “Father Hagedorn was a hard and diligent worker,” he told investigators.

Detectives then believed he “may have been mentally ill from overwork.” But other reports continued to strengthen the argument that he may have been kidnapped. A car had been stolen nearby on the night of the disappearance, and a man reported later that he saw a Ford touring car “with a man dressed like a Catholic priest dashing south on Broadway about 8:30.”

One of the most damning pieces of evidence emerged days later. Detectives found that Rev. Hagedorn withdrew $170 from his bank account, virtually draining it, about noon the same day of his disappearance.

Bishop Lillis had believed he was a victim of a robbery or kidnapping until the news of the money came to light. “I don’t know why Father Hagedorn withdrew money from the bank,” Bishop Lillis told a Kansas City Star reporter. “There is no reason whatever for it that I can see, and it certainly throws a bad light on the case. . . Now I think he is alive. And if he is, I doubt if we ever hear from him again.”

Regardless of his doubts on the event, Bishop Lillis continued to talk in a positive light about the young priest, stating he was obedient and “one of the most valuable men in the diocese.”

Stories surrounding Union Station circulated as well. On the same morning as the disappearance, Brother H. Vincent, vice principal of DeLaSalle, spotted Rev. Hagedorn Saturday morning at Union Station. He made a phone call and walked near the ticket windows.

Two detectives assigned to Union Station recalled seeing a man matching Hagedorn’s description boarding a train at 8:45. The man “appeared somewhat excited or confused” and asked an employee what time the train would arrive in Quincy, Ill.

Wild tips were also called in, including a woman who expressly told the police that Rev. Hagedorn was being held by four men in Grain Valley. When asked how this information was given to her, she said a fortune teller told her.

His parents were sick with worry, and his siblings traveled to Kansas City to assist with the investigation. Days after the search had run dry, his parents received a letter from their son dated April 8, 1926- the day of his disappearance.

The letter, in part, read:

For the past month I’ve had a pain in the head that just knocks me – not a headache, but just a cut in the head. . . And now the bishop is short of priests and needs all the help that I can give, but I’m afraid of that pain, no matter how trifling it is. . . When I mention my trouble to the bishop, he will insist on my taking a rest or going to the hospital and then people fret and worry me more with their questions and sympathy than if I had an arm or leg cut off.

The theory that Rev. Francis Hagedorn walked away on his own grew with time. The Kansas City Star reported, “Either he left voluntarily in a desire of freedom from the priestly calling or because of some mental aberration, possibly loss of memory.”

Several reported sightings, including in Lamar, Ozark and Nevada, Mo. led nowhere. By June 1926, detectives were convinced he had left the United States because no viable leads had been found.

The Magic Reappearance

A lonely man sat on a bench at a rail station, unaware of his surroundings and unsure of his path. A clock on a nearby wall announced the time was 9:00. Restless, the man caught a glimpse of a straw hat next to his hand, unaware of where it came from or why he wasn’t in his normal clothing.

He rummaged through his pockets and found two dollars and an old silver watch- quite different than the gold one he had when he last recalled his whereabouts.

Reluctant and confused, the man stood up from the bench and wandered around to see if he could place where he was. A sign on the wall identified the rail station- he was in Leavenworth, Kan.

The man was Francis Hagedorn, the missing priest.

He found a phone booth and telephoned Bishop Lillis, quickly coming to terms with his own identity. The bishop was out of the city, and without leaving a message, Rev. Hagedorn boarded a bus to Kansas City.

After arriving, he walked the two miles to Bishop Lillis’ home at 301 E. Armour. The maid who answered the door didn’t even recognize the priest.

Bishop Lillis casually rose and walked to the receiving room to see who was calling. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped when he identified the man in front of him- much skinnier and messily dressed – as his missing Catholic priest, Francis Hagedorn.

It was June 8, 1927 – 16 months after he had disappeared into the night.

But Rev. Hagedorn claimed it only felt as if he’d been gone a day.

The bishop took him to St. Joseph Hospital for examination and phoned the police and his parents. Slowly, the priest told his story.

He claimed that he recalled that two men accosted him at 14th and Summit. “One man followed me from the cathedral. The other drove up in a Ford coupe,” Hagedorn recalled. As he approached the car, one man hit him over the head.

The police examined his clothing and found a ticket to the Orpheum Theater in St. Joseph, Mo. from May 31, an unused railroad ticket from St. Joe to Savannah Mo., and a folder of matches from the Hotel Kansan in Topeka.

A bag left in Leavenworth included 300 pages of copious notes in Hagedorn’s handwriting, but he claimed he recalled none of it. The notes included original poetry, philosophy and a history of the American Revolution. Soiled clothing – very unlike the clean, meticulous priest- were mixed in with a silk shirt and handkerchiefs.

As for the money withdrawn from the bank, Rev. Hagedorn swore he took out the money “to pay a debt” and at the time of the attack, he had about $25 on him.

Testing didn’t show any trauma on his head, and the doctor at St. Joseph Hospital “proposed to call a psychiatrist to consult with him.” Dr. A. Comingo Griffith told reporters that he was convinced “he has been a victim of amnesia or lapse of memory” but he believed it was “caused from some internal disorder rather than by a blow on his head.”

Frankly, Francis Hagedorn returned just as suddenly as he had left.

Father Bernard J. Hale stayed with him overnight in the hospital. When Rev. Hale asked him questions, there was no recollection or answers provided. Rev. Francis Hagedorn, sitting in a chair and smoking a pipe, simply said, “Isn’t it queer I can’t remember?”

The Mystery Remains

Rev. Hagedorn returned with his parents to their farm near Pierce City to recover for a period of time. But by March 1928, he was back in Kansas City working as assistant pastor of St. Patrick’s Church at 8th and Cherry.

As the diocese often does, Rev. Hagedorn was moved around from place to place to various parishes, serving for a time in West Glasgow and then moving to St. Mary’s Catholic Parish in Lee’s Summit. There, he lived with his mother and two nieces.

In 1939, he established a parochial school at the parish, now known as Our Lady of Presentation.

By 1945, he was chancellor for the entire diocese, thus he was in charge of all the record keeping. He served as chaplain for the Kansas City Boys Orphan Home and was promoted to monsignor in 1946.

As time moved forward, the missing 16 months of Monsignor Francis Hagedorn’s life never emerged. Or, if it did – the information was never shared with the public. His persona as a pious priest, completely devoted to the church and its teachings, overshadowed any doubts or questions of the time that he swore was lost to him.

In 1981, Monsignor Francis Hagedorn died in Pierce City, Mo. in the shadows of the place where his story began as an eager young boy drawn to theology and philosophy. He was 84 years old.

The mystery remains; we will never know what truly happened in those 16 missing months in 1926-1927. Some stories, it seems, are best left to higher powers.