The Ghost Town That Refused to Die…Twice!

By JD Mahoney Illustration courtesy of Chandler O’Leary

Amidst southern Missouri’s gently rolling Ozark hills, sparsely populated with farms and ranches, the modest restored remnants of a once-thriving community’s business district silently endure. Within a stone’s throw from a 1923 truss bridge spanning the Johnson Creek, the original alignment of two-lane Route 66 stretches past Spencer, Missouri. A lonely row comprised of fieldstone and brick tin-roofed buildings is all that remains of the main street that twice thrived and has become a ghost town once again.

Utilizing the spring fed creek, soon named after him, Oliver Johnson built a mill in the 1860s to process the area’s local grain production. Known informally as Johnson’s Mill, the area became a popular stopping place for travelers and drew enough population to support a general store and to justify a post office appointment in 1868. Named after homesteader Benjamin Spencer, the fledgling town, consisting of two churches, a schoolhouse, and a blacksmith, had a short-lived success into the turn of the century.

With no bridge across the seasonally fluctuating ravine, the dirt road—a victim of deferred maintenance—servicing Spencer continually degraded to the point where it was impassable by 1912. As a result, the dwindling commerce through the first few years of the century resulted in the closure of the Spencer post office in 1907, with full abandonment of the town shortly after.

Route 66 to the Rescue

Pre-dating the federal highway system, the Ozark Trail, an arrangement of locally maintained roads, was organized by the Ozark Trails Association, established in 1913. The southwestern Missouri section, once a dirt stagecoach road that connected Springfield to Carthage, was developed in 1915 as automobiles became more common. Utilized as the new alignment of Route 66 in 1926, the old Ozark Trail hosted the recently paved federally funded highway.

But storekeeper Sydney Casey had a vision for the forgotten hamlet, which had languished for over twenty years as a ghost town. It would benefit from the conversion of the Ozark Trail to the proposed development of a route connecting Chicago and Los Angeles. Bridges constructed in 1923 crossing three creeks in the area, including Johnson Creek, ensured that future access to Spencer would not be impeded.

“He and my grandmother were presently operating a general store in the Jenkins area. Somehow, some way, he got word that there was a big highway coming through this area and that there was an opportunity for a general store, and there was a vacant building. On that information, pretty adventurous, he just took off!” said Sydney Casey’s grandson Kent Casey. To reach the site, thirty miles due north of Jenkins, Sydney walked and hitched wagon rides along the way.

Committed to his vision, Sydney Casey located the owner, Frank Johnson, and purchased the remnants of the store and two acres of land for the asking price of $500, with a $50 down payment in March of 1925. Packing up his wife, Mary, and sons, Carl, Albert, and Johnnie, he headed toward what remained of Spencer. Living in a tent, a modest two-room home was built while the old store was stocked and opened for business. The following year, Route 66 was indeed constructed in front of the Spencer store.

Acknowledged to be one of only four remaining original stretches of Mother Road pavement, the pristine slab at Spencer has never been repaved or widened.

“They used a huge circular vat, and they had a horse that went around and around in a circle that stirred the cement. Then they dumped it into horse drawn sleds, or skids, pulled it out, and dumped it. Dad said he could remember, what he estimates to be about 50 men on either side of the poured cement, and they were hand-troweling the concrete!” said Kent.

As business began to flourish, Sydney added on to the store and continued to build a row of three distinctly different store fronts that included a barber shop, cafe, and gas station.

“There was nothing else in Spencer except my grandfather’s business. That was Spencer! My grandfather ran it and my grandmother helped him,” Kent said. “There was a lot of traffic coming through. People were going cross country, Route 66, that was the Mother Road. People from all over the United States and other countries. You could hear different dialects, different languages.”

In addition to pumping gasoline, the traveler’s oasis, a modern equivalent of a gas station mini market, sold sandwiches, cold drinks, and snacks. Initially leased to the local gas and oil distributor for $20 per month, gas was sold from glass cylinder gravity pumps for seven and ten cents a gallon for regular and ethyl. Bulk oil was pumped from an iron barrel into one-quart bottles for ten cents.

In addition to activity in the village due to its designation as a Greyhound bus stop, the surrounding community also hosted Saturday night dances. Adjacent to the row of businesses, an ad hoc dance floor appeared. “It was a homemade, wooden dance platform, only elevated about a foot or so off the ground. It was built by locals for something to do on Saturday nights,” said Kent. “They had to make their own entertainment. This was really out in the country. Still is! People off the highway would see what was happening and join in.”

Abandonment Issues

Ironically, the hilly landscape that funneled traffic into Spencer contributed to its second demise. Cobbled together from existing roads, following the path of least resistance from the east, a broad sweeping curve in the road following the base of a hill concluded with a treacherous turn into the very narrow Johnson Creek bridge. The short straight-away in front of Casey’s enterprise greatly benefitted from the slowed traffic that Route 66 funneled past the Spencer Store.

However, after 35 years, the lone ribbon of road that had supported the success of Sydney Casey’s dream, now cruelly contributed to its second abandonment. As the new highway, Missouri Route 96, was constructed to straighten out Route 66’s dangerous curves, the steady flow of slowed motorists that once fed commerce in Spencer disappeared over night. Sydney Casey ran the store until he closed it in the early 1960s, continuing to live on the property until he passed away several years later in 1963.

Hidden in the Ozark hills behind a thicket of woods and stripped of its Route 66 designation by the new highway, Spencer was relegated to the same fate of other bypassed Mother Road alignments. Unceremoniously reassigned the designation of Lawrence County Road 2062 for the last six decades, the location of the tiny settlement would now be best described as just west of Highway N over the Johnson Creek bridge.

Succumbing to the decay of time, Spencer’s once proud row of store fronts fell into disrepair. Posts and beams supporting the leaky roofs of the buildings began to yield to the elements. With windows removed and boarded up, Spencer once again became a silent ghost town. A forgotten vestige of a past era, visited primarily by faithful Route 66 purists seeking out original alignments, the decaying edifice has served as little more than a nostalgic photo backdrop for classic car and motorcycle clubs.

The bridge over Johnson Creek in Spencer, Missouri.

Rebuilding the Dream

Hot rod and gas station buff Quentin Stockham had moved to the Missouri Ozarks with his wife, Cathy, to build their dream home on acreage just a few miles south of Spencer in 2004. “That’s how we found out about it. We took pictures of our hot rods in front of the building,” said Quentin. Fascinated with the buildings, he noticed that while the lawn was always mowed, no one appeared to live there. “It was pretty dilapidated. It was all boarded up and most of the windows had been taken out of it. The roofs were caved in from rot. It was a pretty big mess. I asked some people about it, and they told me it used to be a little town.”

Often rerouting his travels, Quentin would go out of his way to drive by the forgotten buildings hoping to catch someone that was connected to the property. Driving by one day, Quentin spotted someone riding a lawnmower. It turned out to be Kent Casey. “I asked [him] if he was interested in selling the place, and he said, ‘Oh, no! My grandpa lived here, my uncle lived here, and my dad lived here.’”

But that was not the end of the discussion. After consulting his wife about selling the property that had been in his family through three generations, the Caseys reconsidered the offer and came to the difficult decision to sell. “It was getting to the point where it needed to be torn down or rebuilt. I did not have the resources to put into it, and we felt that it would be better for us, and better for Spencer,” said Kent.

Although willing to put in the work, Quentin and his wife quickly determined that they could not commit the financial resources that the extensive restoration would require. Quentin turned to his hot rod friend of over 40 years, Francis Ryan. “I called Ryan up and told him about what I had found. I said, ‘It’s right up your alley,’ because we both [used to] to collect gas pumps and old gas and oil signs.”

Familiar with Spencer, Francis and Mary Lynn Ryan of Salina, Kansas, had used the distinct, boarded-up Missouri fieldstone gas station and garage as a backdrop for photographing one of their prized hot rods. “My husband and I, [along with] Cathy and Quentin used to stop there, at Spencer, and take pictures of our hot rods,” Mary Lynn fondly recalled.

Francis Ryan, a retired diesel mechanic who prefers to be addressed by his surname, Ryan, had pursued his passion of building, collecting, and displaying his cars. “We used to do a lot of out of state [car] shows. I had a ’34 Chevy Coupe and put 48,000 miles on it in eight years going to hot rod shows. We had a lot of fun… still do,” said Francis.

Excited about the prospect, after making the five-hour journey from their home in Salina to Spencer, the Ryans met with Kent Casey at the property. After assessing the property’s potential and the work involved, Francis credited

Outside of the restored gas station in Spencer.

Mary Lynn’s encouragement for the decision to commit to the extensive restoration. “My wife and I looked at it. On the way home she said, ‘That looks like fun.’”

“We both knew that it was going to be a lot of work. My husband enjoys history, and he enjoys renovating things. He has always had an interest in Route 66. I thought it was important for him to do something that he thoroughly enjoys. We decided to go for it,” Mary Lynn said.

The couples purchased the small town of Spencer in May 2008.

Searching for a Future

Restoration Vacations

After cleaning up the mobile home behind the stores for living quarters, the Ryans and the Stockhams spent extensive restoration vacations together for the next three years, rehabilitating the remnants of Sydney Casey’s legacy. Obtaining original photos from Kent Casey, the two couples were able to restore the buildings close to their original appearance.

“The roofs on three of the buildings—the feed store, cafe, and grocery store—were all falling in. The rafters were halfway laying on the floor and it was just a disaster, but the walls were pretty solid,” Francis said, assessing the onset of the project. “We cleaned everything out and stripped the wood roofs off of all of them.”

After carefully scaling dimensions off of the window and door openings depicted in the reference photographs, Quentin and Francis Ryan were able to reconstruct the missing gently-arched awning over the gas pump island. “We tried to make everything just like it was back in the day. It’s really, really, close to what the pictures show,” said Quentin.

Originally a Tydol gas station, the last known brand sold at the Spencer Garage was Phillips 66. Named after Route 66, the Phillips Petroleum logo borrowed the distinctive black outline of the highway’s shield. Replacing the badge’s white background with a brilliant attention-demanding orange, the slanted pair of sixes evoked the perpetual motion of the evolving motoring culture. Restored to the stations early period, the Ryans added a Phillips pole sign and a pair of vintage electric gas pumps to the service island. Proclaiming Welcome to Spencer Missouri, est.1896, a sign commissioned by the Ryans utilizes the original pole and hoop found on the property that once advertised the station’s petroleum brand. Found supporting a TV antenna, the repurposed pole was returned to its original location, easily identified by a pipe in the ground that the pole fit in. The arm, with the curly Qs on it, was found down by the creek.

“The windows were all boarded up. They had saved the glass from the feed store, put it in a plywood slip. We put the wavy glass back in there like it was,” Francis added. Hiring a sign-painting artist for the finishing touch, the window signs identifying “Spencer Feed & Seed, Cafe” and advertising “Cold Drinks, Lunches, Cigarettes & Cigars,” the Ryans have added authenticity to the once-thriving collection of businesses.

A lovingly restored niche in the continuing history of the main street connecting America’s heartland with the west coast, the Ryans have given a breath of life to what must still be considered the ghost town that is Spencer. “It’s just the love of the old gas stations, pumps, and signs... we’ve done pretty much all of the work ourselves. It was a lot of work, but it was a lot of fun,” added Francis.

Grandson of the visionary Sydney Casey who rekindled the spirit of the abandoned town the first time, Kent Casey applauds their efforts. “They have done so much, have really brought the thing back to life. Shored it up, put new roofs on it, and did a wonderful job. I am so glad they got it! They are just wonderful people.”

Once a bustling multifaceted enterprise and community focal point, the now tranquil rural setting clings to the possibility of a new economic viability and a state historic site designation. Preservationist and President of the Missouri Route 66 Association, Roamin’ Rich Dinkela, marveled, “It’s just life straight out of a Norman Rockwell picture. You can just sit there and listen to the birds and the bugs and the wind… and just like, wow man! I’m here in 1926.”

WORTH SAVING

It was July of 1950. As Highway 66 continued to nourish a multitude of family-owned businesses along its path, as their post-retirement project, Clinton, Oklahoma, residents, Chester and Gladys Glancy, opened the Glancy Downtown Courts next to Edwin ‘Pop’ Hicks’ 1936 Pop Hicks Restaurant. With details of premium furnishings and Italian-tiled bathrooms, tourists were sold on sight. Over 3,000 visitors came to admire the ultra-modern stopping-place during opening week, and all 14 units were quickly filled.

Downtown Courts was a hit for nearly a decade, but with a determined spirit to be the best in the biz, the Glancys were unsettled. In 1959, the couple decided to demolish the original project little by little, and rebuild, operating with a combination of new and old rooms as they went. By 1961, an impressive two-story display was constructed around a full-sized swimming pool. Perhaps the most iconic addition? A flashy neon sign, reintroducing itself to Mother Road travelers as none other than the Glancy Motor Hotel.

But it soon proved difficult to sell the notyet-remodeled rooms alongside the new, so they got to work once again, this time closing completely. Seventeen additional rooms were added, bringing the total number of units at the Glancy Motel to 66. “The public wanted the best,” said Chester to Jack Spencer in a 1964 Tourist Court Journal, “and we made up our minds to build something so nice that no matter how many motels are built on Route 66, ours will rank the finest.” After four months, it was time for the big reveal.

Shortly after New Year’s Day in 1964, hundreds of people flooded the property to see for themselves the perfected Glancy, with its luxurious new units and completed office. Geometric patterns livened the swimming pool fence and canopy rails. Inside of the units were colorful drapes on top of big windows, and each room was designed with exposed beam ceilings, decorative room dividers, and custom-made quilts with “Glancy Motel” stitched in bold letters.

It was an icon of its time, and the Glancys worked hard to make it known. They owned more billboards than any motel in the Southwest, each proudly stamped with the words “Member of The Best Western Motels” alerting roadtrippers of its high status. As an added dose of advertisement, Chester always had an official “Glancy Motel’’ Thunderbird parked out front.

Those lucky enough to experience the motel in its glory days remember it fondly, especially Kimberly Glancy Johnson, granddaughter of Chester and Gladys. “It was an incredible childhood,” marveled Johnson. “I grew up making new friends every day with somebody passing through, and they were always beside themselves. It [Glancy] was something they’d never seen before. It was the American Dream.”

The lot was her playground, and the Glancy and Pop Hicks remained an unstoppable duo in piquing the interest of anyone who passed for decades to come. But, recognizing the changing times and slowing of traffic after the opening of Interstate 40 in 1968, Chester and Gladys made the decision to sell the Glancy and retire for good. The privately-owned property was passed from owner to owner in the years that followed, and as a final blow, the uninsured Pop Hicks burned down in 1999. Without the popular restaurant, the Glancy was forever changed, clearing the path toward its eventual bankruptcy. Tourists continue to flock to the venue, but it’s for reasons much less glamorous than the AllAmerican Road Trip for which it was built. Exposé YouTubers paint a harsh picture of the storied relic, which in recent years has become an eye sore and a home to a less-thansavory type of guest. And in 2019 the property was condemned by the City of Clinton due to code violations. It appeared to be the end of an era for the Glancy Motor Hotel. Until a recent proposal by developer Rick Koch.

The $7.75-million-dollar proposal will restore both the Glancy and Pop Hicks Restaurant to their historical appearance. For David Berrong, Mayor of Clinton, who viewed the project of the Glancy through the lens of “realistic optimism,” the proposal is nothing short of an answered prayer.

“It’s the only thing we could dream of,” said Berrong. “It’s such a positive time here in Clinton. It’s a game-changer, a breakthrough. This has economic implications that will be huge.”

As the resilient Glancy Motor Hotel is again rebirthed into a new decade, the same holds true for the town itself. The story of Chester and Gladys will live on, and those who yearn for a blast from the past will likely find it, once again, under the carnival-like neon sign, in lovely little Clinton.