Adams Georgetown was a small 19th century community that was partially located on our farm. It was situated along the Old State Road where it turned west leaving the Boeuf Creek. It was established by John Adams sometime in the 1820’s. John Adams was born about 1787 in Garrard County, Kentucky. He married Susannah Childress on April 26, 1804 in Garrard County, Kentucky. John is listed in the 1830 census as living in Boeuff Township of Gasconade County, Missouri.
The community mainly consisted of the home of John and Susannah Adams and their children. At one time there was also a country store there. Many a wagon train heading west from St. Louis and traveling the Old State Road passed by the area. Often they camped at an established campground down the hill where the road crossed the Boeuf Creek. During the Civil War thousands of Confederate and Union soldiers camped there within a week of each other.
The only evidence of the community which remains today is the Adams Georgetown Cemetary. The burial plots in the cemetary are mainly members of the Adams Family but there are also several graves which are marked by simple stones which were people who died from the wagon trains which were passing by.
A portion of the cemetary is still maintained today by members of the Adams Family and every Memorial Day weekend they have a family reunion on a gravel bar of the Boeuf Creek and they visit the cemetary.The following is from an article by our good friend Jim Featherston taken from the Gasconade County Republican issue of Wed. May 26, 1999:
The Adams Georgetown Cemetary
Originally called the Georgetown Cemetary, it appears on old plat maps dating back 150 years. Wagon trains heading west, traveling the old state road, established a campground down the hill at the Boeuf Creek crossing. Local legend is that at least one ailing child was buried at the cemetary by grieving parents.
Today, only one corner of the graveyard is maintained. The Adams family has fenced off a corner and tends graves of the family members. The remainder of the large Georgetown Cemetary is a place filled with ghosts and shadows, with large trees overhead and carpeted with periwinkle vines. Headstones are fallen or falling. Crypts, built from large quarried limestone, are now a random jumble of huge stones. I sit in the shadows, trying to evoke visions of the long-forgotten people who worked, loved, raised families, and built a nation; who now lie here forgotten by all except God.