By Diane Euston
In the last issue of the Telegraph, we looked at the incredible journey of the Jordan family, led by patriarch Samuel Jordan (1833-1901).
Tracing the lives of early African Americans is challenging, yet the Jordan family of Kansas City stands out as a powerful example of resilience and leadership across generations. The family’s rise began with Samuel Jordan, a successful barber, entrepreneur, and local political leader whose relationships —including one with former Confederate General Jo Shelby—helped position his son, Leon H. Jordan (b.1867), to a prominent life in a slowly-shifting segregated Kansas City.
Samuel’s daughters weren’t left in the dark; they were also educated at Lincoln School and raised in a household that prioritized literacy, leadership and civic engagement.
An Appointment to U.S. Marshal
While working for his father at the OK Barber Shop on 5th Street, Leon H. Jordan received a call to service that he likely never anticipated.
Former Confederate General Jo Shelby was a local hero, especially to those who continued well past the Civil War to promote the “Lost Cause” narrative. Brother against brother- neighbor against neighbor- was especially true on the western border separating a slave and free state.
But 30 years after the Civil War, most had literally and figuratively put down their guns for peace. It didn’t mean that the former pro-slavery population was accepting of Reconstruction policies that led to 13th, 14th and 15th Amendments allowing Blacks to have equal protection under the law and gave the Black man the right to vote.
It was these policies that gave Samuel Jordan the ability to rise to political power in Kansas City, and when Reconstruction ended in 1877 and federal troops pulled out of the South, the country slowly moved backward. Poll taxes restricted voters, Jim Crow laws were established and the dismantling of protections of Black citizens led to the rise of the Ku Klux Klan.
It started in the South, and the rollbacks of these policies led to an influx of African Americans moving to Kansas City. Known as the Exodusters, these new residents sought out a better life in more tolerant larger cities. Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed, however. The more people of color that moved into the area, the more power in politics they held.
It was in this climate that Gen. Jo Shelby took a stand that reverberated throughout western Missouri.
Gen. Shelby knew Samuel Jordan when he worked as a barber on the riverboats well before the Civil War, and he held a high regard for him. The Jordan family was known for their strong character. Shelby searched for marshals that represented the population of the area and who could successfully hunt for criminals breaking federal law. And needless to state, the federal law was broken by people of all color.
Gen. Jo Shelby didn’t hesitate. One of his first appointments in March 1894 was none other than 27-year-old Leon H. Jordan.
Former Confederates and supporters of the Lost Cause were beside themselves with this decision. Conversations buzzed in the streets of Kansas City and beyond. The Kansas City Journal wrote, “The position itself is not remunerative and the objection arises solely from the color of the successful candidate.”
In response, Shelby didn’t mince his words. He wrote:
The young man [Leon Jordan] is competent to render effective service in lines where white men cannot do as well, perhaps, as he will do. I appointed him for efficiency, and I have no patience with that sentiment that gropes always among the tombstones instead of coming out into the bright light of existing life and conditions. The negro was always faithful to his people when a slave; he has been no less faithful to his friends since he has become a free man. He is becoming useful in ways never dreamed of before the war, and it is unmanly to deny him the right to do for himself everything that will improve and better his condition. I trust that this is the last I shall have to say in defense of my official action. I am right in what I have done, and by the right I propose to stand.
Leon only stayed in his position for a few months before resigning to accept a position at the Recorder of Deeds Office in Washington, D.C. under CHJ Taylor. He worked there for about a year before he returned to work at his father’s barber shop.
Although his time as Deputy U.S. Marshal was brief, the waves that it sent through the community were long-lasting. Leon Jordan was able to capitalize on this political position and continue giving back to his community in political circles for the remainder of his life.
Bringing Black Leaders to Kansas City
In 1896, Leon married Lena Rivers, and two years later, he enlisted to serve in the Spanish-American War; however, as quick as he was ready to serve, the war was over. But in service, he did meet a Black doctor from Columbia, Mo. named J. Edward Perry.
Dr. Perry later wrote how Jordan convinced him to come to Kansas City, and he moved in next door to Kate Jordan at 1214 Vine Street in 1903. This later became Perry’s Sanitorium, the precursor to Provident-Wheatley Hospital. He’d later marry Fredericka Douglass, the granddaughter of Frederick Douglass.
In about 1889, a political organization and social club for Blacks was started in Kansas City, and Leon Jordan took little time working his way up to leadership. The Autumn Leaf Club was described in one newspaper as “an organization for the entertainment and amusement of colored males [with] a comfortable following of gamblers.” Its first location was at 1303 Grand Ave. where they met every Thursday.
By 1898, the organization was led by Leon H. Jordan and the operation moved to a familiar spot to the Jordan family. It set up shop at 706 E. 12th Street in the heart of the Church Hill neighborhood.
Being near three Black churches and a community of hard workers didn’t camouflage the Autumn Leaf Club. In May 1898, the club was raided and charged with crap shooting.
One man tried to disguise his identity and avoid arrest by dressing up as a female.
The police had their eyes on the Autumn Leaf Club, and in July 1899, Leon was arrested with his employees for “gambling, permitting gambling, and conducting a dram shop without a license.” They were served 32 total warrants, seven of them specifically for Leon Jordan.
As part of his plea, Leon Jordan, the Kansas City Star reported, “burned [the Autumn Leaf Club] charter in police court . . . [He] put a match to the paper and dropped the blazing sheets into a cuspidor.”
The dramatic scene awarded him a stay in paying the $1,000 in fines, and the increasing legal problems of the Autumn Leaf Club likely inspired Leon’s next move.
Leon enlisted in the service, this time as 1st Lieutenant in the 49th Infantry in 1899; he served in the Philippines where his temper got the best of him on several occasions. He served two years.
But his story – and the Autumn Leaf Club – was far from over. By 1901, Leon dusted off the old Autumn Leaf Club sign and reopened the club in the same location.
Leon wasn’t alone in his ability to influence the community; he came from a powerful family who made their mark in many different ways.
Women Influencers of the Jordan Family
Sam and Kate Jordan’s legacy didn’t just rest with their son, Leon. Their daughters Callie (b. 1866), Sallie (b. 1870) and Katie (b. 1876) all made their own mark.
Callie (1866-1959) married Sandy Edwards, a barber-turned-saloon operator in 1891. Sandy worked for his father-in-law and later ran a gambling operation and saloon out of his old barber shop on 3rd Street.
Sandy Edwards (b. 1857) was a powerful figure in the Black community at the time. Described as “a fighter, a politician, a saloon keeper, a gambler, and chiefly, a rich man,” Sandy was able to rise above his humble beginnings to one of the most powerful men of color in Kansas City.
Leon Jordan and his brother-in-law, Sandy, had their own set of problems that led to a major blow. On June 10, 1907, Sandy’s saloon was raided and 70 men were arrested. Both Leon and Sandy had been raided before – but this was the biggest at that time.
Just seven days later, a horrid incident occurred when Sandy showed up to the Autumn Leaf Club. Hoping to borrow $500 from Leon, the two men came to blows.
In response, “Sandy went out swearing he would get a gun and be back.” Leon found a police officer patrolling the neighborhood and told him of the incident. Later, Sandy broke into the bar by breaking down the door.
The Kansas City Journal reported, “Before [Sandy] had time to fire, Jordan shot six times. Each bullet entered his body.” He lived just a few hours.
Leon was acquitted after claiming self-defense.
Callie Jordan Edwards recovered from the tragic loss of her husband as best she could. It was said that her hair almost immediately turned white after the loss of her husband.
During World War I, Callie was a hostess at Camp Union, NY. She worked as a high school teacher at Lincoln for 35 years and founded the Inter-City Dames, a group established to unite prominent Black women from both sides of the state line.
Another of Leon’s sisters, Sallie Jordan (1870-1950) graduated from Lincoln and attended Oberlin College’s Preparatory Department from 1886 to 1889. She then transferred to Fisk where she graduated in 1891. A well-trained musician, she returned to Kansas City and gave lessons to others.
She first marred Henry Booker, a barber, and after a divorce, she married John Love in 1910. Love was the head of the high school history department at Lincoln High and was president of the local chapter of the NAACP at one time.
Sallie taught adult education classes during World War II and was extremely active in the community.
Katie Jordan (1876-1949) graduated from Lincoln, attended Oberlin College and then was admitted to the prestigious Boston Conservatory of Music. She taught for a time at Lincoln University in Jefferson City before marrying Frank Bufkin in 1903.
The couple settled in St. Louis and had two boys.
The Fight for Equality- Leon Jordan’s Legacy
Staying politically active in a city under the Democratic control of Jim Pendergast wasn’t easy, but Leon Jordan was hellbent on ensuring that politicians wouldn’t take advantage of the Black vote. He also fought to repel Jim Crow laws across the state.
In 1904, he was arrested for “aiding and abetting false voter registration” when it was found that 39 names recorded were using the Autumn Leaf Club’s address.
When they stormed the joint, Leon swore these men lived inside the closed-off rooms. When police entered the rooms, they found billiard tables and a bar.
The case was dismissed.
Leon Jordan and his wife, Lena had one child- Leon Mercer Jordan – in 1905 at their home at 1232 Vine Street. A few years later, Leon’s mother, Kate moved down the street to a large mansion at 1212 Vine.
Leon worked to grow his political power and prestige through the Autumn Leaf Club, and one of the best ways to do this was to build a new, large structure to match its reputation.
The building he constructed for the Autumn Leaf Club at 1518 E. 18th Street was a showstopper on the northwest corner of the business block. It was 25 feet wide and three stories tall. The Kansas City Call wrote when it opened, “One of the handsomist bars for Colored men in the West was opened by the Autumn Leaf Club at 18th and Vine Streets. In appointments, fixtures, stock and experienced mixologists it is not surpassed in the country.”
The Autumn Leaf Club and political activism certainly kept Leon in the headlines, and when the club moved to the heart of today’s Jazz District in 1915, his problems followed him.
The newspapers reported that 200 to 300 Black city leaders appealed to the police board to protest Leon’s liquor license in 1917, describing it as a “notorious gambling and drinking resort.” The new location featured a bar on the main floor, a cabaret on the third floor and “a buzzer system throughout the building that could trigger the closing of doors to individual sections at any sign of danger.”
Leon’s mental health was on the decline just as he was set to go to trial to keep his liquor license. He was sent to the Topeka State Hospital where he died of “general paralysis of the insane.”
Likely due to the cause of death, the newspapers were oddly quiet when announcing his passing on August 3, 1918. But the Kansas City Sun did publish a long obituary showcasing the highlights of a life cut short. He was only 51 years old.
The Sun wrote, in part, “His highest ambition was to be a man; for this he lived, struggled and died. . . He loved politics, not for self, but as a weapon for the defense of his race. . . He made a record so brilliant that it will live in the minds of men for years to come.”
His son, Leon Mercer Jordan, was without a father at just 13 years old.
Kate Jordan Passes and the Torch Passes On
The loss of Leon H. Jordan, arguably the most powerful of the Jordans still living at the time, was devastating to the family. The political power of the Jordans was lost for a time due to the untimely death of Leon.
Nine years later, the matriarch of the Jordan family passed away. Kate Jordan closed her eyes for one final time at her home at 1212 Vine Street on October 10, 1927. She’d been struck by a car several years earlier outside of her home and never fully recovered. That, along with a diagnosis of cancer, sealed her fate.
She was 81 years old.
Her surviving children placed a tribute in the newspaper, writing:
God called our loved one.
But we lose not wholly
What He hath given.
Mother lives in our hearts, in thought,
And deed as truly
As in heaven.
She rarely made the headlines but her positive influence over her children cannot be understated. Women so often were overshadowed by the contributions of men, and for this powerful, educated Black woman who saw so much in her lifetime, she must have passed away pleased at the contributions of all of her children to the betterment of the community her family once led.
The torch of the Jordan family did, for a time, fade out. Others tried to continue the Autumn Leaf Club to no avail. Even Leon’s younger brother, Alvin (b. 1880) tried to resurrect the business and the political influence.
It just didn’t seem to work out.
Others tried, too. The name “Autumn Leaf Club” was used at various Black-owned establishments, including a gym operated by a well-known boxer and a manager of the Monarchs.
There just wasn’t the political power that Leon H. Jordan once held, and that legacy seemed to disappear slowly as each member of the family passed away. They’d been powerful in their day, to be sure, but the fight seemed to fade – or at least it faded away for a decade.
That flame was reignited when Leon Mercer Jordan, the grandson of Sam and Kate and the only son of Leon H. Jordan came back to Kansas City to make his mark – and what a mark he did make on our city’s future.
Leon M. Jordan’s story has been well documented, but the way in which he mirrored the generation before him cannot be understated. He first worked as a teacher like his aunts and an uncle; he joined the Kansas City Police Department in 1937 and focused later on reform of the department when he was the first Black man ever to be named lieutenant.
By the 1950s, he was one of the most active men in the Civil Rights movement, challenging racial discrimination in local government. Like his father over a half century before, Leon M. Jordan continued advocating for empowerment through voting.
In 1962, he co-founded Freedom, Inc. with Bruce R. Watkins and worked tirelessly to register people to vote and make people of color politically aware. In 1964, he was elected to the Missouri House of Representatives.
His life, like his father’s, was cut short. He was murdered in 1970 – a murder which remains one of the most controversial cases in Missouri history, likely linked to the mob.
The legacy of the Jordan family and its connection to the rise of politically relevant influence in Kansas City began in the 1870s with Sam Jordan and continued for two generations. The power of education, opportunities and an unending entrepreneurial spirit drew the Jordan family into prominence well before Kansas City was ready to fully embrace their leadership.
From barber chairs to ballot boxes, the Jordans proved that political power in this city was not easily claimed — it was built, defended and, generation after generation, reborn for the betterment of us all.