Butler County Genealogy Trails Kansas Willis N. Calkins Bio

BUTLER COUNTY'S EIGHTY YEARS BIOS

WILLIS N. CALKINS

(transcribed by Sheryl McClure)

A red brick, two-story, rather ornate county courthouse, set in the middle of a generous square of ground, the broad walks pleasantly bordered with fall garden flowers; a high flight of broad stone steps; a length of silent corridor; a door opening into a large square room, a room containing bookcases, and tall windows that overlook the wide lawn and the street beyond – and one is in the presence of the Probate Judge of Butler County.

The walls of the room are literally lined with bookcases, said cases filled with uniform rows of solemn, calf-skin bindings – law books in traditional garb, and title sprinted in gold on squares of beautiful scarlet leather. They are formidable-locking shelves, and make one quite panicky thinking of all the legal lore stored therein – lore accumulated and commented upon since the days of Moses and Solon! Looking around the high-ceilinged, orderly room, so suggestive of the majesty and profundity of the Law – and the Minor Prophets! – one is constrained to wonder just how approachable the Probate Judge is? From the nature of his work, his having to meet all sorts of people, and confront all sorts of delicate personal problems, it is of moment to us that the Probate Judges be approachable. No doubt about that, in any county, any state.

In brief, shake hands with Willis N. Calkins, Probate Judge of Butler County, serving the unexpired term of Judge V. P. Mooney, and elected to the office November 6, 1934, on the Republican ticket, for his first regular term. The judge has risen to do the honors of the place. A passing comment on the weather, which happens to be charming, an inquiry as to the health of Republican politics in Butler County – insomuch as the Judge is most especially informed and then a delightful talk about books and sports! Not law books, but real books, works of imagination, and fancy and philosophy all compact.

For the Judge is approachable. He is reading, between times, he says, Beveridge’s “Life of Abraham Lincoln,” and he finds it informative and entertaining. A scholarly work, the Judge says it is, and relates an incident or two from its pages. So contagious is his enthusiasm that one forgets the formidable rows of legal lore on the surrounding bookshelves, and finds “the legal” mind is not so formidable, after all.

He plays golf, he says; he is fond of history, and particularly fond of that fascinating phase of history, biography. He is not devoted to bridge, but plays occasionally because not to play is to follow the line of most resistance. He attends the Presbyterian church, belongs to the Elks Club, is a troop director of a Boy Scouts company, a third-degree mason, a member of the Chamber of Commerce, the Kansas State and Butler County Bar Associations, of the El Dorado Country Club, and an American legionnaire. Asked what he really enjoyed most in his war-time experience in France, if anything, the Judge replied, with a sudden smile, “Getting Home.” It was putting into one terse, comprehensive phrase the total World-War “enjoyment” of the members of the American Expeditionary Force, their disgust of war, their longing for home, the hope long deferred that maketh the heart sick.

Judge Calkins’ father, Chandler Carroll Calkins, was born in Sterling, Illinois, in 1864, a descendant of Holland-Dutch and Welsh settlers prior to 1634. His mother, Gertrude (Lee) Calkins, was born in Rock County, Wisconsin, and was of English and Scotch descent. Her family came to America during the Colonial period. The Lees came from Wisconsin to Adams County, Iowa, in the fall of 1872, in a covered wagon. In May, 1871, George Conde Calkins, the Judge’s grandfather, and his family moved to Adams County, and settled on a farm near what was later the town of Brisco. So there were the two families, the Lees and the Calkins, settled in Adams County, and two young people, Gertrude Lee and Chandler Carroll Calkins, destined to meet, fall in love, and marry and go to Kansas.

Their son Willis was born on their farm near Brisco, Iowa, June 7, 1890. A mixed racial ancestry is said to be most fortunate for its possessor. How fortunate, then, was little Willis Calkins, a descendant of Holland-Dutch, Welsh, English and Scotch ancestry! In October, 1902, the family moved from Adams County, Iowa, to Osage County, Kansas, and established a residence near Burlingame.

Willis was twelve years old when his father settled in Burlingame, just old enough to find interesting all that was strangely new in the experience. He attended the public schools there, graduated in the Burlingame high school, and later attended the University of Kansas. On June 7, 1916, he received the degree of Bachelor of Laws from that institution, and was ready to start out on his own. While attending University of Kansas he was active in football, and was a member of the Phi Alpha Delta fraternity.

Starting out on his own, his first work was in Emporia, where he was secretary of the Home Building and Loan Association from September, 1916, to Mark of the next year. In April, 1917, he began the practice of law “hanging out his shingle,” as the old phrase has it, in El Dorado. But war times were upon us in 1917, and in August of that year, the young attorney closed his office with an enthusiastic bang of the front door, and went forth to fight for the other fellow’s country, as was the style in that war. He entered the Officers Training camp, and in November of that same year was commissioned first lieutenant. He was absent, overseas, a year, receiving his honorable discharge in June, 1919. At the present time he holds the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the Officers Reserve Corps. From September, 1921 to September, 1922, he was commander of the local post of the American Legion.

Upon his return from overseas, Mr. Calkins worked in the credit department of the National Supply Company, of Tulsa, Oklahoma, for six months, then returned to El Dorado, unlocked the front door of his office, got out his old “shingle,” dusted it off, hung it out, and sat down resolutely to wait for clients. At last, war off his hands, he ‘settled down” to the practice of Law. In those days the word was spelled with a capital. Is it now, one wonders?

Since that time El Dorado has been his home, the practice of law his steadfast work. He has identified himself with the town’s best interests, and by his devotion to his work has made of himself a valuable public servant. He served as assistant county attorney of Butler County from January, 1927, until November, 1930. He was Republican candidate for county attorney in 1920 and 1924, secretary of the Butler County Republican central committee in 1928 and 1930, and chairman of that organization in 1932. Through all the different kinds of Deals, New, Old, Fair and Unfair; through all the changing complexions of political fortunes and misfortunes, Mr. Calkins has remained a staunch Republican, for is he not of Dutch-Welsh ancestry? The Dutch and Welsh are capable of staying put. It is a matchless trait in men and nations.

Judge Calkins is kindly. He smiles easily, but not too often. He is a man who does his duty, and yet survives with a sense of humor. He is desirous of seeing justice done to his fellow men; legal justice, and the common everyday garden variety of justice, better described as the fine art of living with one’s fellowmen. He knows a lot about human nature, having met up with it in many walks of life, and in his varied personal contacts with people, in his social experiences.

For instance. Into the big, orderly, book-lined room comes a trembling little colored boy. He is plain scared, the urchin. He’s been up to some mischief, and some dreadful policeman, mayhap or some other vested authority, has sent him in, to talk to the Judge. For bachelor Judge Calkins has charge of all juvenile offenders, by virtue of his official position.

Plain scared, the urchin, twisting his cap in his smudgy little hands, stands waiting with apprehension as to what’s going to happen to him next. The Judge looks him over sternly, bids him to be seated, then asks him sternly, and slowly, what he’s been up to now? But kindness lurks somewhere in the Judge’s voice, and the twinkle lurking behind the Judge’s eyeglasses reassures the little malefactor. The scare dies out of his face, and soon they are talking the trouble over as man to man. It’s a pretty sight, the representative of the Law, and the little lawbreaker; the good friend and the repentant little boy, coming to an understanding about the eternal differences between right and wrong, a difference that some little boys are rather hazy about!

Meet Probate Judge Calkins, ladies and gentlemen!