It’s an ambitious legacy for a community of fewer than 600 citizens. But Lecompton, 13 miles northwest of Lawrence, has leaned into the challenge. After all, for six contentious years it was the capital of the Kansas Territory, before the state was admitted to the Union in 1861. 

Consider Constitution Hall, built by the pro-slavery Sheriff of Douglas County, Samuel Jones, in 1856. The following year, according to Lecompton historian Tim Rues, the second of four constitutions proposed for the state of Kansas was signed there. It protected the enslavement of human beings in Kansas and excluded free Black persons from entering. Free Staters, anticipating an election rigged by Missouri settlers, boycotted the vote. 

The Lecompton Constitution was then debated in the U.S House of Representatives in February 1858. If not for a late-night brawl that tabled the proceedings, eventually splitting the Democratic party over the issue of voter fraud, Kansas might have entered the Union as a slave state. 

For this hugely consequential turn of events, Constitution Hall is now a Kansas and National Historic Landmark; a good place to introduce or update your knowledge of the border war. Plan your visit around a presentation called “Bleeding Kansas.”

The Lecompton Reenactors are a group of historical interpreters who “bring to life a turbulent time in Kansas history,” says Steve Germes, who portrays Kansas’ first governor, Charles Robinson.

One weekday this spring, I witnessed this mock debate over the issues of popular sovereignty and slavery to a captive audience of two dozen high school students. Other interpreters represented James Lane, U.S.senator and leader of the Kansas Brigade during the Civil War, abolitionist John Brown, a fictional slave catcher named Felix, Sheriff Samuel Jones, and two important Kansas women, Sara Robinson and Clarina Nichols. They provided a moral counterpoint to the flawed men on both sides of the debate.

Historically, no such debate ever took place. Women were forbidden to speak in the public sphere. Lane and Robinson, both free staters, were political enemies, rarely seen together. And Sheriff Jones was usually preoccupied with keeping the state’s more radical abolitionists in check. 

The speeches were well-researched. The interpreters were passionate about their messages, regardless of side. 

Recreator Paul Bahnmaier, speaking as Sheriff Jones, highlighted the legitimacy of the Lecompton government, while skirting the issue of legalizing chattel slavery, as he challenged abolitionists’ rights to be in Kansas in the first place. 

“What did you come here for?” he asked. “Why did you not go instead to Minnesota or Nebraska where you would be welcomed?  But no, you want to get all of the territory, but damn you, you shall not have it as it belongs to the South.” 

Lecompton native Bahnmaier coined the town’s brand, Where slavery began to die. Republican Abraham Lincoln, he points out, was only elected in 1860 because of that Democratic party split. Eventually, the anti-slavery Topeka Constitution was ratified by the Senate — 40 days after South Carolina seceded. 

“Without this splitting, Lincoln would never have been elected president and who knows how much longer slavery would have existed?” he said.

There is yet more history to learn in Lecompton. In anticipation of the Congressional passage of the pro-slavery Lecompton Constitution, a territorial capitol building was begun with a $50,000 federal appropriation. Yes, Kansas was that close to becoming a slave state! 

Today, the building houses the Territorial Capital Museum. Displays about politics of the 1850s and ’60s show the role that Lecompton played in elections from Massachusetts to California. The small Democratic headquarters cabin nearby adds to the story of how the Lecompton Constitution enabled Lincoln to be elected with just 39% of the popular vote. 

The town offers a thorough introduction to the constitutional crisis in the border war story. Kansas was not predestined to enter the Union as a Free State. It took any number of articulate and committed abolitionists to accomplish this.  

On the other hand, rad what the Rev. Samuel Adair, a relative of John Brown, observed about some of the self-proclaimed abolitionists who settled the territory. “Their free-soil is free soil for white, but not for black. They hated slavery but they hated the Negro worse.” 

If this legacy catches anyone by surprise, stay tuned.

Frank Barthell is a former video producer at the University of Kansas. Through its opinion section, Kansas Reflector works to amplify the voices of people who are affected by public policies or excluded from public debate. Find information, including how to submit your own commentary, here.