04/08/2026
Traveling south from Aurora on highway 39 to Jenkins will cause you to pass through the small community of Leann. That’s where we ended up this morning, after casting votes in Madry.
Nestled among the trees, just off the roadway, sits one of the only remaining community buildings, the Leann schoolhouse, located at the front of the Leann Cemetery - known to some as Spring Hill Cemetery.
Leann was first known as Marmaduke - with the Marmaduke post office having been established in 1886. It is not known for sure, but I do believe the town’s name of Marmaduke came from the Missouri Governor, John Marmaduke. I’m curious if anybody else has more information relating to the Marmaduke naming?
John Solomon Thomas, who prior to the establishment of the Marmaduke post office, was an assessor for Barry County. In 1880, John Thomas turned his assessor book in at Cassville, bought a marriage license, and rode on horseback to the Carney home which sat near Little Flat Creek. Once there, John took Leann Carney and rode to the Justice of the Peace and the two were wed. John purchased around 80-acres of land in Marmaduke, and soon became its postmaster - with wife Leann as the assistant-postmaster. Just four years after the Marmaduke post office’s establishment, the name was changed to Leann - after Leann Thomas.
John Solomon Thomas was my 4th great-granduncle, the brother of my 4th great-grandmother Susan (Thomas) Allman.
To the west of the schoolhouse sits the Leann Cemetery, which dates back to the late 1800s, many sources online claim that Strouther Suttles was the first to be buried there (1867) - with the land having belonged to his son Thomas.
Thomas Suttles was married to Elizabeth (McKinney). One of their children, Mary, married Marion Enos Hilton - Marion was also my 4th great-granduncle - the brother to another of my 4th great-grandmothers, Missouri (Hilton) Mullen - who also has several family members buried in Leann, though herself is buried at Maple Park in Aurora, alongside husband Sylvester.
The cemetery is full of familial ties, between the Suttles, Thomas’, Allmon/Allman’s, and Hilton’s. One of those cemeteries where if you’re related to one person there, you’re likely related to them all… a common occurrence in rural Missouri.
While researching the community of Leann, and its cemetery I found a short story written by Mark Meadows, a native to Leann, and likely a familiar name to many. Mark has written about Leann in much more depth than I could - as he experienced Leann not long after the post office was decommissioned, and attended school for several years in the one-room schoolhouse. I haven’t a clue what the schoolhouse looked like in the 1940s - but the community of Leann shows a clear devotion to upkeep as it looks like a time capsule through the windows (if you’re 5’7, and stand on your tiptoes, you can get just a glimpse of the beauty inside).
While Leann may be positioned in what some would consider “the middle of nowhere”, and passing through the community can be done without one noticing - the schoolhouse/community building and cemetery are very well maintained. It says a lot about a small cemetery and its community, when its upkeep is as nice as this one, especially if you consider that those buried in Leann did not pay to be buried there - the cemetery runs 100% on donations and volunteers. A post located at the cemetery mentions you can be buried there if you make a $100 donation towards the cemetery - which seems like such a small price when you compare it to other, larger, cemeteries in the area.
The Leann Cemetery is not a bad one to visit in the middle of summer, unlike a lot of surrounding cemeteries this one sits beneath the welcoming canopy of trees, offering plenty of shade throughout the lot - allowing for ample time to peruse the markers, before calling it quits due to the heat.
I visited Leann Cemetery often as a little girl, with my grandparents. It was important to uphold the tradition of visiting our families and ancestors during Memorial Weekend, cleaning off their stones, and sharing stories of those no longer with us. Something my husband, Dylan, and I have continued with our children, as it seems to be something of a lost tradition.
As we visited, we spent time cleaning off some stones as we regularly do when we visit cemeteries, took some photos, and shared stories with our boys of their ancestors - stories I was told when I was their age, stories I hope they tell their children one day.
