Roots of Resistance: Radical Kansas

We are now in the year 1877. Golden grass stretches in every direction across the Kansas Plains. A group of families pull their wagons to a stop near the South Fork of the Solomon River, carrying everything they own. They've traveled all the way from Kentucky, escaping violence, crushing debt, and the constant exploitation of the post-Reconstruction South. There's nothing here.

No buildings, no railroad, no town, just prairie. Many of these families are formerly enslaved, so while they didn't carry wealth or tools, they did bring an unwavering sense of determination. They cut sod to build houses, dug wells with their bare hands, and planted fields knowing that if crops failed, that could mean starvation. It's an inspiring response to centuries of oppression. These families weren't just going to survive but build something better on their own terms.

Welcome back to Roots of Resistance: Radical Kansas. I’m Lindsay, your host, and this is episode three of our 13-part series exploring the people-powered movements that have shaped Kansas history. Today, we’re going to talk about Nicodemus, one of the most extraordinary stories of Black resistance and community-building established right here in Kansas. I grew up just 30 miles east of Nicodemus off Highway 24 in northwest Kansas. Even though I attended their homecoming celebration as a kid, I didn’t fully grasp the weight of Nicodemus’s story until much later.

These families literally built their community from the ground up, with little help from established settlers in the area. They did it despite systemic barriers like the railroad intentionally bypassing Nicodemus in favor of the town of Bogue. I grew up just a block from that railroad and had no idea of its story and how that decision to exclude Nicodemus on the route was intentional.

Before we dive in, I want to acknowledge my position as a white woman sharing these stories and history. To understand Nicodemus, we need to first start with the conditions that drove Black families to Kansas in the first place. The Civil War had ended more than a decade earlier, but the promises of Reconstruction had crumbled.

In the South, Black Americans faced continued violence, including lynchings and race massacres meant to terrorize communities and enforce white supremacy. After slavery ended, many Black families were forced into sharecropping, which was basically slavery by another name. They worked the land that they didn’t own and had to give part of their crops to landlords. Landlords often used unfair contracts and high fees to keep families in debt, making it almost impossible to get ahead. It was designed to keep Black people trapped and powerless.

On top of that, systemic racism—meaning racism baked into our laws, policies, and the framework of society—ensured that Black Americans also faced barriers in housing, education, voting, and more.

The Homestead Act of 1862 offered a glimmer of hope: 160 acres of land to anyone who could live on it, farm it, and improve it for five years. For Black families, this wasn’t just an opportunity—it was a chance to control land for the first time and build a future outside of a white landlord’s control.

By the late 1870s, the Exoduster movement was in full swing. The term Exoduster refers to Black Americans who fled oppressive conditions of the South after Reconstruction failed. Thousands of families left states like Louisiana, Mississippi, and Texas, traveling by wagon, steamboat, or even on foot to Kansas. They were drawn not just by the promise of land through the Homestead Act but by Kansas’s reputation as a place of freedom. After all, as we discussed in the last episode, it was John Brown’s Kansas—the state that had fought to enter the Union as free.

Nicodemus was founded in 1877 by a group that included both Exodusters and white land developers. Key figures were Reverend W.H. Smith, a Black minister, and W.R. Hill, a white land developer. Together, they formed the Nicodemus Town Company. Unlike other settlements, Nicodemus was envisioned as entirely Black-owned and Black-led from the beginning.

It’s important to note that W.R. Hill and other white land developers were primarily motivated by financial opportunity rather than any sense of moral duty. While some settlers were led to believe a fully developed settlement waited for them, the reality upon arrival was a harsh and empty chunk of land. Many felt misled, but they remained determined.

The first homes were sod houses, literally carved from the earth. Thick-walled and sturdy, they kept out the wind but required constant upkeep. Inside, the floors were dirt. Mary Jane Byrd, a Nicodemus settler, is quoted as saying, “The sod walls kept out the wind, but the dirt floors? They never stayed clean. We learned to live with the prairie in our homes.”

These homes were sturdy but far from comfortable, requiring constant maintenance to keep the prairie outside from creeping in. And if you’re not familiar with the weather on the plains of northwest Kansas, it’s worth noting that the settlers faced harsh conditions: scorching summers, bitterly cold winters, and unpredictable storms.

By 1880, the population was nearly 500 residents. The town featured a bank, two hotels, three churches, a newspaper, a drugstore, and three general stores. New families arriving in Nicodemus were met with food, help, and guidance.

Settlers who had already learned the ropes shared their knowledge—from cutting sod to finding water and planting crops. Much like the printing presses during Bleeding Kansas in Lawrence, the Nicodemus Town Company recognized the power of newspapers to build community and rally support. Publications like the Western Cyclone and the Nicodemus Enterprise not only promoted the settlement to prospective residents but also connected existing residents. These presses served as tools of empowerment, uniting the community and helping them face the unique challenges of life on the plains.

Music, dance, and art were also important in maintaining the community. Gospel songs and spirituals like Swing Low, Sweet Chariot were sung at church services and social gatherings. The Cakewalk, originally a dance mocking the formal ballroom moves of the wealthy during slavery, took on a new meaning in Nicodemus, becoming a joyful expression of cultural pride and resilience.

The First Baptist Church wasn’t just a place of worship—it was the heart of Nicodemus. It served as a town hall, a relief center, and a rallying point for the community. Reverend Simon Roundtree, a former enslaved man, was both a spiritual and practical leader. Under his guidance, the church became a space where settlers could meet, share resources, and solve problems together.

When the Union Pacific Railroad bypassed Nicodemus in favor of Bogue, a nearby white-controlled settlement, it was a deliberate act of exclusion. Farmers couldn’t easily transport their crops, and businesses struggled to compete.

Nicodemus is the oldest Black settlement west of the Mississippi. To learn more and support preservation efforts, visit www.nicodemushistoricalsociety.org.

For information on the 2025 Nicodemus Homecoming, visit www.nicodemushomecoming.org. Supporting sites like Nicodemus ensures these stories are not erased.

New episodes drop every Wednesday. To check out all episodes, visit www.radicalkansas.com or wherever you get your podcasts.

Until next time—stay informed, stay engaged, and keep resisting.