Nobody mourns a highway. Except this one.

This is what’s at the bottom of the Lake of the Ozarks.

Few people in the Ozarks know his name. But he helped build this nation.

By six in the evening, the whole town was gone.

In the Ozarks, we’ve always believed something simple. A hard beginning doesn’t decide the rest of the story.

The real history of a place isn’t made in marble rooms.

More than a century ago, a minister living in Lebanon wrote a novel about a town like ours.

In late December 1909, twelve children stepped off the Frisco and onto a platform they had never seen before.