Test your knowledge of our beloved Commonwealth. To find out how you fared, see page 9.
1. Louisa’s Tyler Childers’ third album sported the name of which popular station wagon model?
A. Truckster
B. Roadmaster
C. Countr y Squire
2. McKee, located in the Daniel Boone National Forest, is home to the Sheltowee Trace Artisans Fair. Sheltowee was the nickname given to Daniel Boone by the Shawnee and means what?
A. Noble hiker
B. Big tur tle
C. Rowdy redhead
3. Crystal Wilkinson, who grew up in Casey County and helped launch the Affrilachian Poets movement, was the first Black woman appointed to which Kentucky post?
A. Poet laureate
B. Ar ts Council president
C. State senator
4. Who is the only Kentuckian to be honored with the Kennedy family’s Profile in Courage Award?
A. Mitch McConnell
B. Andy Beshear
C. Michael Adams
5. Old Town, the seat of Kentucke County (1776-1780), Virginia, later changed its name to what?
A. Lexington
B. Danville
C. Harrodsburg
6. Playing Rachel Donelson, the first wife of President Andrew Jackson, earned Beulah Bondi a best supporting actress Oscar nomination in which 1936 film?
A. The Gorgeous Hussy
B. It’s a Wonderful Life
C. Of Human Hearts
7. Which Kentucky governor lettered in football and baseball at the University of Louisville?
A. A.B. “Happy” Chandler
B. Lawrence Wetherby
C. Earle C. Clements
8. Lexington-born journalist Pamela Ashley Brown is the daughter of a former co-host of Candid Camera. True or False.
9. United States Sen. John Sherman Cooper, who was named in part for William Tecumseh Sherman, was a defensive end for which college’s undefeated football team?
A. Har vard University
B. Centre College
C. Louisiana State University
10. The namesake of Daviess counties in Kentucky, Indiana and Illinois, Joseph Hamilton Daveiss was killed while commanding the Kentucky Militia dragoons at the Battle of Tippecanoe on Nov. 7, 1811. Why was his battle sword given to the Masonic Widow and Orphans Home in Louisville?
A. He had been an orphan.
B. His wife, Ann, the sister of Chief Justice John Marshall, was a widow.
Jackie Hollenkamp Bentley, Jack Brammer, Bill Ellis, Steve Flairty, Gary Garth, Kim Kobersmith, Brigitte Prather, Walt Reichert, Tracey Teo, Janine Washle and Gary P. West
BUSINESS AND CIRCULATION
Barbara Kay Vest Business Manager
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ADVERTISING
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KENTUCKY MONTHLY (ISSN 1542-0507) is published 10 times per year (monthly with combined December/January and June/ July issues) for $25 per year by Vested Interest Publications, Inc., 102 Consumer Lane, Frankfort, KY 40601. Periodicals Postage Paid at Frankfort, KY and at additional mailing offices.
POSTMASTER: Send address changes to KENTUCKY MONTHLY, P.O. Box 559, Frankfort, KY 40602-0559. Vested Interest Publications: Stephen M. Vest, president; Patricia Ranft, vice president; Barbara Kay Vest, secretary/ treasurer. Board of directors: James W. Adams Jr., Dr. Gene Burch, Gregory N. Carnes, Barbara and Pete Chiericozzi, Kellee Dicks, Maj. Jack E. Dixon, Mary and Michael Embry, Judy M. Harris, Jan and John Higginbotham, Frank Martin, Bill Noel, Walter B. Norris, Kasia Pater, Dr. Mary Jo Ratliff, Randy and Rebecca Sandell, Kendall Carr Shelton and Ted M. Sloan.
Kentucky Monthly invites queries but accepts no responsibility for unsolicited material; submissions will not be returned.
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Readers Write
North to Alaska Revisited
Recently, Becky and I traveled to Southeastern Alaska, and I thought about an article, “North to Alaska,” that Steve Vest had written and published in the August 2024 Kentucky Monthly magazine (page 62). It was a story about Kentucky Monthly’s 25th anniversary cruise to Alaska.
There is no question that Steve is one of
Kentucky’s great writers and publishers, and I always enjoy his articles. In this story, he wrote in a humorous tone about the lack of wildlife seen on his journey, even to the extent that he said, “The only bears I saw were the stuffed ones in the frontier bars, such as the Red Dog Saloon.” He went on to say that he saw an eagle and maybe a whale’s fin.
I guess wildlife are much like people—we never know when they are going to come out and socialize. Becky and I were blessed to see seven bears, both coastal brown and black, and we counted approximately 48 whales that we saw on this trip, mostly humpbacks.
Since we were fortunate to enjoy some of Alaska’s wildlife, I felt it appropriate to share a couple of photos with my fellow writer, Steve Vest.
John W. McCauley, Lexington
‘Social’ News
A few years ago, a friend of mine moved from Louisville to Bardstown and was complaining about the local newspaper. I thought she was talking about fillers, but she said, “No, it’s things like ‘so-andso visited so-and-so.’ ”
I told her that’s the best part! Betty Darnell, Taylorsville
We Love to Hear from You! Kentucky Monthly welcomes letters from all readers. Email us your comments at editor@kentuckymonthly.com, send a letter through our website at kentuckymonthly.com, or message us on Facebook. Letters may be edited for clarification and brevity.
Spotted by John McCauley in Southeastern Alaska: a black bear, top, and a coastal brown bear, above.
travel
Even when you’re far away, you can take the spirit of your Kentucky home with you. And when you do, we want to see it!
new england
Pam and Charlie Thompson of Louisville traveled to Vermont and New Hampshire. They stopped by a favorite bed and breakfast, the Captain David Kelley House in Centerville (Cape Cod), Massachusetts, far left, and enjoyed lunch at the Portsmouth Harbor (Piscataqua River) on the border of New Hampshire and Maine.
austria
Geoff Walden of Hardin County visited the Hohenwerfen Fortress in the Austrian Alps near Salzburg. The castle was a filming location for the 1968 film Where Eagles Dare.
africa
Fort Thomas residents Denise and Kenneth Grause toured several countries in Africa, including South Africa, Zimbabwe and Botswana.
MAG ON THE MOVE
submit your photo
Donna and Donald Pursifull of Murray ventured to Lexington, Massachusetts, to commemorate the 250th anniversary of the first shots fired in the American Revolution. While in the area, they visited historic Warren Tavern in Boston. massachusetts
Take a copy of the magazine with you and get snapping! Send your high-resolution photos (usually 1 MB or higher) to editor@kentuckymonthly.com or visit kentuckymonthly.com to submit your photo.
florida
Kentucky Monthly fan Pat Cromer, left, of Aurora, Indiana, vacationed with her family in Siesta Key, Florida. She is pictured with her granddaughter, Kelli Rennekamp, and her greatgrandchildren, Jack and Avery
VISIT SIKESTON VISIT SIKESTON
Spend a weekend in Sikeston and enjoy great restaurants, comfortable stays, and fun attractions. Call 888-309-6591 or sikeston.net/tourism for visitor information.
Visit Santa at the Holiday Open House!
NEW Sikeston Rodeo Museum! Go to sikestonrodeomuseum.org for hours.
Holiday events & Attractions
holiday open house - nov 7-8
tree lighting & parade - Dec 5
Yule log cabin
Santa’s village
Historic DOWNTOWN District
georgia
Kentucky Monthly readers Phillip and Evelyn Rogers of Peachtree City, Georgia, vacationed at Tybee Island, Georgia, where they visited and toured the Tybee Island Light Station and Museum.
Louisville residents Terry and Jeanne Miller traveled to Page, Arizona, and toured the awe-inspiring rock formations of the Upper Antelope Canyon. arizona
Glenda Ferguson of Paoli, Indiana, traveled to the Missouri Botanical Gardens in St. Louis with the August 2025 issue, which featured an article about Lewis and Harriet Hayden, who served as conductors on the Underground Railroad. In 2024, the Tower Grove House at the Gardens was added to the Underground Railroad Network to Freedom. Glenda is pictured at the Kemper Center for Home Gardening at the Gardens.
missouri
9 Night Cruise | 7 Ports | 2 Sea Days
Departing from Rome, June 2nd, 2026. Arriving in Barcelona on June 11th. More info and links to come!
Leonard and Sarah Hartmann of Louisville enjoyed a French Country Barge cruise along the Canal du Bourgogne.
Maysville residents Rick and Diann Lawrence visited Boone Plantation & Gardens—one of America’s oldest plantations still operating, having produced crops for more than 320 years—in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina, near Charleston. south carolina
japan
Bob and Kat Sholly of Cadiz shared Kentucky Monthly with a geisha during an eight-course ryotei experience at Tanakaya, a Yokohama restaurant established in 1863 in the Greater Tokyo Area. The geisha was fascinated by the magazine and the fact that her picture would appear in an American magazine.
canada
Becky B. Ricketts of Louisville took her Kentucky Monthly to the 2025 Rotary International Convention in Calgary, Alberta, Canada
KWIZ ANSWERS
1. C. The Country Squire was the third-longest running Ford nameplate following the Thunderbird and the Mustang; 2. B. He supposedly was given the name because his large backpack against his short stature made him look like a big turtle; 3. A. Wilkinson was appointed in 2021 by Gov. Andy Beshear; 4. C. The Paducah-born secretary of state was the 2024 honoree; 5. C. Harrodsburg became the seat of Lincoln County until Mercer County was established in 1785; 6. A. Rachel, whose first husband was Capt. Lewis Robards of Harrodsburg, was described as having “lustrous black eyes, dark glossy hair … a sweet oval face rippling with smiles and dimples”; 7. B. A graduate of Anchorage High School and a second baseman, Wetherby is a member of the UofL Athletic Hall of Fame; 8. True. Brown’s mother, Phyllis George Brown, was Miss America 1971 and began her broadcast career on the popular comedy show alongside Allen Funt; 9. B. The Praying Colonels were undefeated when the 1918 season was shortened by an outbreak of the Spanish flu; 10. C. Not only was Daveiss a Mason, but at the time of his death, he was Grand Master of The Grand Lodge of Kentucky, founded in Louisville in 1800.
BY LAURA YOUNKIN
The Friendship That Never Ends
If you’ve ever heard or sung the song “Rocky Top,” one of Tennessee’s official state songs, you can thank a Kentuckian for that. Bluegrass legend Bobby Osborne was born in Thousandsticks in Leslie County. He and his brother, Sonny, popularized the Tennessee classic now played at every University of Tennessee sporting event and at honky-tonks throughout the state
Although Bobby died in 2023, an album of his previously unreleased music came out this year. His friend, C.J. Lewandowski, made sure that Osborne’s fans can hear the last songs he recorded.
Lewandowski is a member of The Po’ Ramblin’ Boys bluegrass band. Still under 40 years old, he practically grew up playing bluegrass and listening to the music at festivals. Lewandowski was aware of Osborne, and their paths often crossed. Eventually, they formed a friendship that blossomed into a life-changing alliance.
The two men supported and encouraged one another. “I feel like we needed each other,” Lewandowski said. “I needed him. I was at a time when I wanted to hang it up.”
Lewandowski was tired and frustrated with the life of a musician, but Osborne, who had made music for 75 years, motivated him.
“For him to take the time for me … it really meant a lot,” Lewandowski said in appreciation of their friendship. “The relationship we had—just sitting and telling stories—was amazing.”
The COVID pandemic was particularly hard on Osborne because he couldn’t play at the Grand Ole Opry during that time, and he missed making music with other people. Lewandowski said Osborne’s blues continued after that.
“He was getting down and out,” Lewandowski said. “He thought he was washed up and that no one wanted to see him anymore. He was getting depressed and down on himself.”
Lewandowski is friends with Osborne’s family, and he had a three-hour discussion with Bobby Jr., who said his father wanted to get out more and play more. Lewandowski empathized with his older friend and wanted to help.
“He influenced me so much, I felt I needed to help him in that time of life,” Lewandowski said.
When Lewandowski went to California shortly after the discussion with Bobby Jr., he talked to his friend, Keith Barnacastle, about Osborne. Barnacastle told Lewandowski that if he wanted to record some songs with Osborne, Barnacastle would be happy to release them on his label, Turnberry Records.
The idea appealed to Osborne, and he returned to the studio. “We got a house band together,” Lewandowski said. “[Osborne] was 91.”
Band members were aged 13 and up, and it was a band “who loved [Osborne] and respected him,” Lewandowski said. He said all the musicians had been influenced by the bluegrass legend. “It’s a testament to him across the board.”
“Music is medicine,” Lewandowski said as he saw his friend perk up during the project. “I literally watched it.”
Osborne died June 27, 2023. Even though his friend was elderly, Lewandowski was surprised. “It was a little unexpected. A week before that, he was cutting his own grass. A week before that, he was in the studio with me.”
Grief hit hard. “We had eight tracks of him singing. I didn’t want to hear his voice. I didn’t want to remember being in the studio and having a good time,” Lewandowski said, and he set the music aside for a while.
Lewandowski, who lives in the Smoky Mountains, said that one day he was sitting on his porch in a rocking chair, thinking about what he should do with Osborne’s vocal tracks. As he sat and looked at the view, he clearly could hear Osborne’s voice. “He told me, ‘I gave you something. It’s up to you what you do with it,’ ” Lewandowski said.
C.J. Lewandowski with Bobby Osborne. Photo by Jeff Daugherty.
An idea was sparked at the 2023 International Bluegrass Music Association (IBMA) World of Bluegrass awards ceremony that included a tribute to Osborne. After the show, Lewandowski and Bobby Jr. heard The Travelin’ McCourys playing and singing Osborne Brothers songs. Bobby Jr. suggested having Del McCoury sing his father’s songs.
“That was the turning point,” Lewandowski said. “It made me think to get other people involved.” What resulted is the album, Keep On Keepin’ On, which was released in August.
Lewandowski was able to get an impressive list of musicians to contribute to the projects, including Del and Ronnie McCoury, Vince Gill, Sam Bush, Billy Strings, Molly Tuttle, Wyatt Ellis and The Po’ Ramblin’ Boys.
One of Lewandowski’s major goals was to have Osborne’s sons record “Rocky Top,” the Osborne Brothers’ No. 1 song, which appears on the album.
“I went from doing something with him to doing something for him,” Lewandowski said, acknowledging that he’s been honored to work on this project. “Those are the final ever recordings of a legend. I wanted to make it
ENTER
right for him.”
When he was alive, Osborne helped Lewandowski advance his career. Now that he’s gone, that assistance continues. “I got my first No. 1 [song], ‘Rosie Bokay,’ ” Lewandowski said of a song from the album.
Lewandowski and Osborne are featured in the “Unbroken Circle” section of The American Currents: State of the Music exhibit in the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Nashville.
“Bobby is still helping me, but in different ways, he’s still here,” Lewandoski said.
“With a spirit and personality as big as Bobby, they don’t die; they’re around,” he continued. “They linger, and they’re there when they can help.”
Keep On Keepin’ On is available on all streaming platforms. Turnberry Records sells the CD from its website, turnberryrecords.com, and is planning a vinyl release.
A CHANCE TO WIN
new traditions
Just as families evolve and grow, holiday recipes change with time. Many become streamlined, some are reworked to include readily available ingredients, and others are added to create a more interesting menu. The following recipes showcase seasonal ingredients, save oven time and space, and offer unexpected flavors.
JANINE WASHLE
Pumpkin Mac n Cheese
MAKES TWO 13- X 9-INCH PANS OR APPROXIMATELY 14 CUPS
1 box elbow macaroni
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
¼ cup all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
4 cups milk
4 cups shredded sharp cheddar (shredding a block of cheese makes a creamier dish than using pre-shredded)
1 cup pumpkin purée
CRUNCHY TOPPING:
1 cup panko crumbs
¼ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons melted butter or olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
½ teaspoon garlic powder, optional
Baked Sauerkraut
SERVES 6-8
4 pounds fresh sauerkraut, drained (bagged kind found in refrigerated section of most groceries)
3 tart apples, grated (Granny Smith works best)
2 large yellow onions, diced
3 fresh bay leaves
8 whole juniper berries
4 whole allspice
1-2 teaspoons salt (watch this, because many krauts are already quite salty)
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 bottle Riesling
2 large smoked ham hocks
1. Prepare macaroni according to package instructions. Do not overcook. Drain and set aside until ready to use.
2. In a large, deep saucepan, melt butter over medium heat. Whisk flour and salt into melted butter, and cook 3 minutes to remove floury taste.
3. Gradually add milk—about a half-cup at a time—whisking continuously. Once all the milk is incorporated, bring to a simmer to thicken the sauce. Watch carefully; it will thicken only slightly to about the consistency of heavy cream.
4. Start whisking in handfuls of shredded cheddar. Once all the cheese has been incorporated, stir in the pumpkin purée. At this point, the sauce should look velvety and smooth.
5. Stir in elbow macaroni. Set aside.
6. Prepare crunchy topping by stirring panko crumbs and salt into melted butter. Toss to evenly distribute butter into crumbs. Stir in thyme and garlic powder.
7. Butter two 13- x 9-inch pans and preheat oven to 350 degrees. Divide mixture between pans. Sprinkle crunchy topping over each.
8. Bake for 20 minutes. Serve warm.
Tip: If you prefer a saucier mac ’n’ cheese, omit baking and simply transfer mixture to a serving dish. Top with panko and serve immediately.
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. In a large, wide pot or roaster with a lid (turkey roaster), combine sauerkraut, grated apples and diced onion. Work with the sauerkraut to break up the clumps.
3. Add bay leaves, juniper berries, allspice, salt and black pepper. Stir lightly to work whole spices into the mixture.
4. Pour bottle of Riesling over mixture. Nestle ham hocks deep into kraut. Cover with lid.
5. Place in oven and bake for 2 hours and 45 minutes. Remove from oven and serve hot.
Tip: Can be prepared a day ahead and reheated.
MAKES ONE 8- X 8-INCH DISH
4 large eggs
2 cups milk
½ cup pumpkin purée
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper
5 cups cubed (about ¾- to 1-inch cubes) day-old challah
1 cup shredded fontina, gouda or sharp cheddar
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup chopped celery
1½ teaspoons poultry seasoning
Savory Bread Pudding
A perfect dressing substitute for the vegetarians at the table.
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray an 8- x 8-inch baking dish with nonstick spray. Set aside.
2. In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, milk, pumpkin purée, salt and pepper. Add cubed challah and shredded cheese, tossing to thoroughly coat. Set aside for 30 minutes to allow bread to absorb custard.
3. In a sauté pan, heat oil over medium-high heat. Once oil is hot, add onion, celery and poultry seasoning. Sauté for 5-7 minutes or until vegetables are translucent, softened and just beginning to brown around the edges. Remove from heat and stir into custard mixture.
4. Pour mixture into prepared baking dish. Level the top as much as possible. Cover with foil. Bake 45 minutes. Remove foil. Bake an additional 15-25 minutes or until center is noticeably puffed and nothing jiggles. Center should be 185-200 degrees using an instant-read thermometer.
5. Serve warm. Refrigerate leftovers.
Farro and Roasted Squash Salad with Honey Dressing
SERVES 10
SALAD
2 cups farro
Water + 1 tablespoon salt (for boiling)
2½ cups butternut squash, peeled and cubed (can use other winter squash)
2 tablespoons vegetable oil (for roasting)
Salt, pepper to taste
1/3 cup dried cranberries or dried cherries
1/3 cup toasted pumpkin seeds
2 cups baby kale
HONEY DRESSING
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon honey
Salt and black pepper, to taste
Farro:
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add farro and cook according to package directions. Do not overcook.
Drain well and set aside until needed.
Squash:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toss squash cubes with oil, salt and pepper. Roast on a sheet pan for 25 minutes, stirring once halfway through, until golden and tender. Let cool slightly.
Dressing:
Whisk together olive oil, apple cider vinegar, Dijon mustard, honey, salt and pepper until emulsified.
To assemble salad:
1. In a large bowl, combine cooled farro, roasted squash, cranberries or cherries, pumpkin seeds and baby kale.
2. Add dressing and toss gently to coat. Taste and adjust seasoning.
3. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Creamy Stovetop Green Beans
SERVES 6-8
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 cup finely chopped portobello or button mushrooms
½ cup finely chopped onion
1 minced garlic clove
¼ teaspoon sea salt
2 bags frozen French-cut green beans, thawed
BÉ CHAMEL SAUCE:
1½ cups whole milk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 fresh bay leaf (or 2 dry)
¼ teaspoon ground black pepper
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
¼ cup heavy cream
Salt and pepper, to taste
1. Heat butter and oil in a large sauté pan. Add mushrooms, onion, garlic and salt. Sauté until onion is translucent, 5-7 minutes. Turn off heat.
2. Prepare béchamel sauce by warming the milk in a medium saucepan. Melt unsalted butter in another medium saucepan. Whisk in flour with butter until smooth; cook for 3 minutes. Gradually whisk in warmed milk and bring mixture to a boil.
4. Add salt, bay leaf, black pepper, nutmeg and cloves. Reduce heat and simmer for 20 minutes until mixture is thick like gravy. Stir in heavy cream. Remove and discard bay leaf.
5. Add both bags of green beans to onion mixture in the large sauté pan. Turn heat to medium high. Pour béchamel sauce over. Adjust salt and pepper, if necessary. Heat thoroughly. Serve hot.
Lexington’s Dream Factory
The Apiary offers magical dining experiences that dazzle the senses
BY PATTI NICKELL
Photos by Shining Light Photography
On a sultry summer evening, a group of fancily dressed partygoers followed the beat of the salsa music to its origin, en route passing a fleet of vintage cars parked along the street. This could have been a scene straight out of Ernest Hemingway’s Cuba circa 1950, with the crowd headed to the famous Tropicana nightclub to dance the night away.
Instead, it was 2025 in Lexington, and the crowd was headed to The Apiary event venue to dance the night away. Outside, it may have been trendy Jefferson Street with its row of upscale restaurants, but inside, it was all Caribbean sizzle heralding The
Apiary’s version of Havana Nights.
Faux palm trees twinkled with lights; a cigar roller demonstrated his skill in the courtyard garden; and a bountiful buffet showcased the cuisine of the island—all to hipswiveling music by salsa band Pavel & Direct Contact that evoked images of the Buena Vista Social Club.
This homage to Havana was just the latest in The Apiary’s Omage series of themed dinners designed to transport guests to the international destination of their dreams.
In the past, guests have dined on curries, savory noodles and stir-fry dishes in a Thai moon garden and tagine, couscous and zaalouk in the marketplaces of Morocco. They have savored the subtle wines of Provence
and the bold beers of Oktoberfest in Munich. They have celebrated the Chinese New Year and Mexico’s Day of the Dead—all without the need for a passport.
• • •
It was the latter, Día de los Muertos, that kicked off the first Omage celebration, said Cooper Vaughan, owner of The Apiary and the creative force behind its inventive offerings.
“We came up with the concept when the COVID pandemic made traveling impossible,” Vaughan said. “We realized that Lexingtonians were missing the world, so we decided to bring the world to them.”
Vaughan’s wife and creative
Dressed in bright florals and feather boas, guests danced under string lights during a Havana-themed party in 2024, filling the patio with laughter and color.
partner, Mea, chimes in. “We had both the beautiful space and the talented team to create something, that through food and imagination could take people on a one-of-a-kind adventure,” she said.
Thanks to the creativity of the Vaughans and their staff of 20 fulltime employees, diners have been revelers at New Orleans’ Mardi Gras, trekkers in the Andes, shoppers at a Middle Eastern bazaar and guests of the Red Queen at the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.
“Putting on something this complex is obviously quite a process,” Mea said. “It usually takes months of strategy before we put boots on the ground.”
“We want everything to be as authentic as possible—from the design to the music to the food,” Cooper added. “Especially the food. Everything revolves around the food.”
That’s a responsibility that The Apiary’s culinary director, Tony Yalmazov, a native of Bulgaria, and his executive chef, Catesby Simpson, don’t take lightly.
“Very few art forms engage all the senses the way food does,” Yalmazov said. “What else can evoke a memory of a place just through a scent?”
Once a destination has been determined, Yalmazov and Simpson spend as many as four days planning the menu with the assistance of sommelier Spencer Smith, who doubles as The Apiary’s director of marketing.
“All of us on the staff have to be special team players, capable of handling multiple assignments,” Smith said.
The night of the event usually requires up to 15 people to handle the food and drink, both in and out of the kitchen.
For Havana Nights, in addition to the massive buffet that constantly had to be replenished, Smith said there were three bars, each with a different vibe.
“We dubbed the main bar Pilar for the boat Ernest Hemingway used to sail to Cuba,” he said. “Under a tent in the garden, we had the Car Bar, named for the 1950s classic cars in Cuba, and our wine cellar became a daiquiri bar for the night. We called it El Floridita after the famous Havana bar.”
All this authenticity and glamour do not happen overnight.
“It usually takes about five days to go from seed to full flower,” said Mea, whose background in sculpture and art installation helps her create a multi-sensory experience.
“While we lead with cuisine in choosing a region, we also are influenced by that region’s art and architecture, as well as its textures and colors,” she said.
Cooper added that The Apiary is fortunate to have an in-house team of
artists “who love to push themselves to their individual limits.”
If you had dropped in at the venue the week before Havana Nights premiered, you would have seen a group of these artists—clad in jeans, T-shirts and flip-flops—sprawled on the floor fashioning papier-mâché flowers or perched on ladders stringing lights.
“We always strive to be not only authentic but respectful of the culture we are honoring,” Mea said.
The team has had plenty of practice in complicated installations. Consider the 250 floating candles they had to suspend from the ceiling Harry Potter-style for their Omage to Magic. Then there was the 25-foot Chinese dragon they dangled from the same ceiling to celebrate the Lunar New Year.
Cooper said each installation takes an average of three or four days, with 15 people involved in the process. It’s a piece of cake next to procuring the vintage cars for Havana Nights.
“We started with three cars for our first Havana Nights,” he said. “By this year’s event, we had it up to eight.”
Practice does indeed make perfect, but Cooper said they never take anything for granted.
“We all agree that it always feels like everything falls into place in the nick of time,” he admitted.
• • •
Falling into place in the nick of time could be a slogan for The Apiary’s survival. Vaughan’s original plan for the building—once the site of a 19th century printing establishment—was to rehabilitate it for use as an event space for weddings, private parties and corporate gatherings.
All that was left of the original
The Apiary’s Lunar New Year Omage celebrated the Year of the Dragon.
“We all agree that it always feels like everything falls into place in the nick of time.”
building was the section that now houses the kitchen, so Vaughan began an ambitious multi-year reconstruction effort that resulted in the stunning exterior and interior that one sees today, and the spectacular gardens that were designed by Jon Carloftis and are maintained by Neli Dimitrova, the mother of culinary director Yalmazov.
For months, as the construction continued, Lexington residents were intrigued by the mysterious goingson behind the ornate brick walls on Jefferson Street.
The big reveal in 2015 left them awestruck, and before long, the world was knocking on the door.
“That year, the Breeders’ Cup came to Keeneland for the first time,” Mea said, “and they booked a series of parties with us. That was a big boost to get us started.”
That success continued right up to the beginning of the COVID pandemic in 2020, when the good times ceased to roll. The parties ended; weddings were postponed; corporate gatherings took place on Zoom.
It could have spelled the end for Cooper’s dream. However, once again in the nick of time, The Apiary’s creative team members came up with a plan. They created the Hive, a core group of locals who kept the kitchen humming with takeout orders for elevated food and drink.
As places cautiously began to open their doors, The Apiary provided a safe haven for Hive members to engage in socialdistance dining.
“It kept us going during a very rough time,” Cooper said.
Today, Hive members enjoy the cachet of a private supper club salon every Thursday night where, as Cooper said, “There’s no theme. It’s just about embracing the food.”
The introduction of the Omage series allows non-members access to The Apiary’s spectacular events— plated dinners for up to 110 people and cocktail extravaganzas for 250 guests.
The 2026 Omage calendar kicks off in December with the popular Feast of the Seven Fishes, a quasi-religious Christmas Eve celebration whose roots stem from Southern Italy.
Although the staff has not announced the specific themes for 2026, there will be four dinners each month during January, February and March.
While the cost of the evening is higher than at some restaurants ($125 and up), how can you put a price on magic? Q
Cooper and Mea Vaughn. Photo courtesy of The Apiary.
A WARRIORS’ REUNION
A Kentucky nonprofit provides a place for veterans to reconnect with their units to talk about their unique shared experience in the military
BY KIM KOBERSMITH
For several long weekends a year, a remote ridge on a private farm in Lewis County transforms into an innovative place of healing for veterans from across the country.
Reconnection Retreats, hosted by nonprofit Warrior Ridge, reunite veterans who served together in combat. They lean into the bonds they forged in the military to overcome the myriad challenges they face in civilian life.
The experience isn’t anything
fancy, though organizers show participants that people still care about them. In honor of the veterans’ service, a police escort shepherds each group to the ridge from the Northern Kentucky airport. Local churches and other community members provide meals, and they eat like royalty.
The winding creek below the ridge provides a great location for kayaking, and one of the organizers brings horses to ride. But the most popular draw has proven to be the
fire pit, where the teams have time together out of cell phone range and without everyday distractions.
“The biggest thing is a lot of laziness,” said founder and Executive Director Landon Bentley. “Some of these groups have 20 years of catching up to do. They just want to sit by the fire and talk.”
Landon’s Story
The inspiration for this mission
came directly from Bentley’s personal experiences of re-entry. He deployed with the U.S. Army to Iraq from 2005-2007. At first, returning home seemed like a smooth transition, as he reconnected with family and stepped into a well-paying job.
But the illusion of “being fine” cracked within a couple of years. He initially didn’t notice it in himself. But he began to abuse alcohol, went through a divorce, lost all of his possessions, grew distant from his family, and eventually crashed.
Co-founder Ryan Roe showed up at Bentley’s home in Ohio with a truck and trailer and moved him to Kentucky.
“I am embarrassed to admit that I was on the verge of becoming homeless and suicidal,” Bentley said. “I had lost touch with the guys from Iraq and didn’t have a good support system. My team leader heard about it and really helped me. We still talk daily and take care of each other.”
As bonds with his buddies strengthened over bonfires and
conversations, his thoughts kept returning to other guys who needed help coping. Those who had nightmares and couldn’t sleep. Those who were disowned by family and had nowhere to turn. The only people there for Bentley were those he served with, and he and his friends decided to create Warrior Ridge to provide that support to others.
The Need
“The combat experience is intense and lifechanging. Anxiety, depression and PTSD are serious, verified results of military service, especially following combat deployment. The suicide rate among veterans is extremely high. But extreme experience and mutual reliance have formed unbreakable connections that matter in the deepest of ways. As group therapy has proven particularly successful with veterans, it is only natural to
view the team as a foundational unit for recovery and growth.”
— From the Warrior Ridge website
So much is asked of soldiers during their combat service, and some are haunted by the things they see and do. It’s hard for other people to understand what they are going through after they return to civilian life. Bentley compares it to having a baby—women can explain over and over again what it’s like, but he can’t really ever understand it. It can be
challenging to find support for warriors with these invisible injuries.
Warrior Ridge finds those struggling veterans and reconnects them to their combat team. Friends, family, significant others—anyone can nominate a soldier on the organization’s website, warriorridge. org. Selecting someone for a Reconnection Retreat is a big commitment for Warrior Ridge: The nonprofit covers all travel and event costs for every veteran, and it commits to welcome combat team
“No one knows what they went through more than the people they went through it with.”
members to annual retreats for the rest of their lives.
This continuity is important. Bentley said team members maintain constant contact between the gatherings, and those veterans who are particularly struggling have something to look forward to every year.
“No one knows what they went through more than the people they went through it with,” Bentley said. “The veterans go home hoarse from talking so much. They say this is exactly what they need.”
In three years as a nonprofit, Warrior Ridge has welcomed six teams into the program, including the 3/3 India Raider Company, Team Orthos and the 3D LAR. Along with the therapeutic aspect of gathering, team members offer other support, such as helping each other find jobs.
Nonprofit Support
Warrior Ridge is a grassroots effort, and homegrown fundraisers have included a clay shoot in Florida, a Cincinnati Reds outing, and a community dinner in Vanceburg. Local chapters in Maysville, Cincinnati, Northern Ohio, Tampa and Missouri volunteer at festival booths to spread the word. They sell merchandise—T-shirts, sweatshirts and hats—to offer a way for Americans to help other Americans.
But the bulk of the funding comes
from donations. The Carpenters Union is the biggest sponsor at $20,000 a year. Other gifts are smaller and less predictable. Bentley remembered getting the mail one day and finding a check for $6,000 in the box.
“It’s pretty cool when we don’t know them, yet they see what we are doing and want to help,” Bentley said. “We are funded by people wanting to pay it forward, and it has snowballed. There are so many good people, truly.”
The “Warrior 50” program is a way to offer dedicated support to one of the combat teams. A $300 annual donation makes that team’s retreat possible. It’s sort of like an adoption: Donors get recognition for their gift, limited edition T-shirts, and updates about the groups’ experience at Warrior Ridge.
Looking Forward
The organization has aided only male warriors so far, but leaders recognize that women also serve in combat. They are looking to accept a female applicant. But to truly ensure they are serving all veterans in need, Bentley’s grand vision is a Warrior Ridge location in each state.
“This work is incredibly important to me,” he said. “I know the 3rd LAR marines had eight members commit suicide, and another team had 13. It’s a never-ending thing. It feels like a higher power is helping us with this, as the soldiers say it has changed their lives.” Q
For more information, visit warriorridge.org.
A WARRIOR RIDGE
Testimonial
My unit, as well as the rest of the 101st Airborne, was deployed to Iraq in 2003. We returned stateside a year later. One of our brothers was nominated for a reconnection retreat at Warrior Ridge. Although many of us were skeptical at first, this would be the first time many of us would see each other in 20 years.
It was amazing! Everyone reconnected like we haven’t missed a day apart. The Warrior Ridge team had everything you could imagine for us—from the instant welcoming drive up the hill, the food provided by the local community and cooked on site, the broad range of activities available for us to do together. They made a slip and slide going into the pond for us. We went from not much communication to a daily group chat.
This been one of the best things that could have happened for me and many others in the group. I can’t thank the Warrior Ridge team enough. I look forward to the chance to reconnect again this summer as our group grows.
BY ANDY LINDAAS
One Night. One Legacy. One Future.
“The encouragement we felt that night shows how much people see our potential.”
Kentucky State supporters answer the call to honor the past and invest in future generations.
Sam and Cleo Coleman were college sweethearts from Kentucky State University’s Class of 1949 who built lives of purpose and gave back to their community. Their story reflects what Kentucky State has done for generations: provide an education that transforms lives and strengthens families and communities across the Commonwealth.
This fall, their legacy inspired the inaugural Sam and Cleo Coleman Kentucky State University Fundraiser. Hosted by their son, Jim
Coleman, at Coleman Crest Farm in Lexington, the event drew 107 alumni, friends, and community supporters. Together, they raised $30,000 in scholarships to expand opportunity for future students.
Lieutenant Governor Jacqueline Coleman, a former educator, joined the program and underscored Kentucky State University’s vital role in opening doors of opportunity and preparing the next generation of leaders. That message was brought into focus by Kentucky State students in attendance—sharing their ambitions through stories that deepened confidence in investing in their future.
“The encouragement we felt that night, and continue to feel from those
who believe in us, shows how much people see our potential,” said Kentucky State student Jaiya McCargo. “It motivates us to aim higher, work harder, and lead with purpose.”
As Kentucky State University anticipates the milestone celebration of its 140th anniversary in May 2026, the evening was both a tribute to the past and a call to action for the future. Demonstrating the power of legacy and the promise of education, the inaugural Coleman Fundraiser generated momentum to build upon— laying the foundation for even greater opportunity in the years to come.
Jaiya McCargo, Kentucky State University student
Horses Helping Humans
A Shelby County facility provides treatment for residents in recovery while teaching skills in the equine industry
BY JACK BRAMMER
Chris Carl searched for a metal newspaper box to hide behind as he slept on the streets of Nicholasville. The street was his refuge. He was in his mid-30s, fatigued, out of it and homeless with a lengthy criminal record—mostly drugs and theft. He had moved over the years from alcohol to pills to heroin.
He had served a tour in the U.S. Army in Baghdad, Iraq, but ended up going AWOL. He was divorced, an absent father. He had no job. He had no money.
Carl’s life had hit rock bottom. Even worse, he was hopeless. “I was ready to give up,” he said.
The troubled man had no idea
during those dreary times that horses would or could save him.
• • •
Carl today is education director of HorseSensing in Shelby County off Bagdad Road, a nine-month minimum residential program where veterans and men in recovery receive treatment for substance abuse and mental and health challenges while learning a new trade involving horses.
The nonprofit program is at no cost to residents. Founders and operators David and Sally Broder provide for all needs free of charge, so the focus for the residents can be on healing and progressing to a new, permanent path of stability and health. It has no type of insurance.
For women, HorseSensing
provides forms of equine-assisted therapy and training programs. It has hosted events specifically for female service members.
Residents who complete the program are placed in a good job at Shelby County professional horse farms and are equipped with the skills and support to succeed for the long term.
“I never was around horses, didn’t know much about them until I got here and went through the program,” said Carl. “They have made all the difference in my life.”
• • •
Carl was born Jan. 28, 1986, in Lexington and grew up in nearby Nicholasville. He was the first of three children born to Gerald and
David and Sally Broder, sitting at left, provide for all the needs of the HorseSensing residents free of charge; opposite page, David with one of the equine residents.
Barbara Carl. Another boy and a girl followed. Gerald worked in manual labor and taught Chris the value of hard work. Barbara, Chris said, instilled in him cleanliness and keeping things in order.
While in the ninth grade at West Jessamine High School, Carl’s addiction to alcohol flourished. Jack Daniel’s was his preference. He said his parents were unaware of his problem. “No one in the family questioned me,” he said. “I told them I was going camping or hiking, and I would get plastered.
“I always looked older than I was and bought [alcohol] easily at stores.”
He found pills, primarily opiates, easier to hide and a stronger stimulus “to get away from it all,” he said. “They were easy to get from different people.”
After graduating from high school
in 2004, Carl went from pills to heroin. He joined the Army two years later and was deployed to Iraq. “The pills were there, too,” he said.
On a trip back home, he decided not to return to the Army. He went AWOL and later turned himself in. He lost any chance of ever getting veterans’ benefits. In the meantime, he had married, but the marriage ended in divorce in 2008. His second marriage produced a daughter and son, but that marriage ended in 2018. The children now live with his parents.
“Nothing was going right,” Carl said. “I started stealing, along with taking the drugs. I spent a lot of time in jails.”
In 2019, Carl was homeless. “I was out on the streets looking for drugs or money to buy drugs,” he said. “I slept on the streets. The police knew
me. They left me alone. I overdosed. I didn’t want to live anymore.”
Carl contacted a place he had heard about called Isaiah House in Willisburg (Washington County).
Founded in 1999, it is the state’s largest comprehensive Christ-based addiction treatment and recovery service, impacting residents’ ability to maintain lifetime sobriety. It has several campuses across the state.
“They picked me up and took care of me,” Carl said. “I was there for two and a half months.”
Just before his departure from the recovery center, the manager told him about a place called HorseSensing. “He told me it was about horses,” Carl said.
• • •
On Aug. 18, 2022, Carl enrolled at
Above, Chris Carl, left, adjusts tack on a horse; opposite page top, Carl with a mini horse.
HorseSensing, working with Saddlebred horses. “I was scared of them, terrified,” he recalled.
Sally Broder, a clinical psychologist who had a drug problem when she was growing up in California, recalled how a horse kicked Carl in the head early in his program.
“I said if that’s the worst they can do to me, I will be all right,” he said.
A proud Carl graduated from the program in December 2022. His two children attended the ceremony.
He landed a job at Knollwood Farm in Wisconsin, one of the country’s most respected horse farms, excelling in training American Saddlebred horses and developing riders through one of the nation’s largest programs.
“I stayed there three weeks,” Carl said. “I wanted to get high every night. I got stuff over the counter. I called Sally and told her I needed to come home. I returned to HorseSensing.”
Because of Carl, “we changed our recovery program,” said Broder, “putting it into phases and requiring a minimum of nine months.”
At his return to HorseSensing, Carl said, “I got serious about my recovery. I got better.” A year’s job at Stone Ridge in Shelby County went fine, but he returned to HorseSensing when one of its trainers died.
In 2024, Carl, who used to sleep on the street with his head under mailboxes, became education director at HorseSensing. He works six days a week.
“I love it,” he said “It’s fulfilling. The horses are soothing. They get you out of yourself. I see guys like me and can relate to them, and they to me. I don’t know if this is my ultimate goal in life, but I know I don’t have to run away anymore from my life. I can handle it.”
With its 25 horses, HorseSensing
teaches skills to become top-notch grooms in the horse industry, while also providing a therapeutic environment to tackle issues such as personal growth, depression, grief, PTSD, relationships and addictions.
HorseSensing was founded in 2009 in California by the Broders. They moved the program to a farm in Shelby County in 2021 and opened its residential program in 2022. It usually averages five to seven residents.
The 30-acre working farm welcomes tours. Q
For more information, visit horsesensing.org
Other Kentucky Equine Therapeutic Centers
Stable Recovery
This Nicholasville nonprofit helps men and women in the early stages of recovery in a residential program. It has about 30 Thoroughbreds. stablerecovery.net • 859.685.8898
Kentucky Foothills Therapeutic Horsemanship Center
Located near Richmond, this nonprofit center is dedicated to improving the quality of life of individuals with physical, emotional and developmental disabilities by facilitating the exploration of the relationship between the horse and the human.
kfthc.org • 606.965.2158
Hooves of Hope
Based in Lancaster, the center provides equineassisted activities and therapies for children and adults with a range of intellectual, physical, emotional and/or behavioral disorders. hoovesofhopeky.org • 859.792.8938
Dream Riders of Kentucky
This is a nonprofit, equine-assisted activities and therapies program in a supportive and therapeutic environment in Philpot designed to enhance the quality of life for children and adults with disabilities living in Daviess County and the surrounding area. dreamridersofky.org • 270.613.0079
Milestones, Inc.
This program in Independence is a therapeutic horseback-riding program for individuals ages 3-49 with disabilities and seniors 50-plus. milestonesinc.org • 859.694.7669
Green Hill Therapy
This Louisville outpatient clinic specializes in physical, occupational and speech therapy for children with special needs, incorporating hippotherapy and aquatherapy. Hippotherapy is the use of horseback riding as a therapeutic or rehabilitative treatment, especially as a means of improving coordination, balance and strength. Aquatherapy involves movement in water. greenhilltherapy.org • 502.244.8011
Equility Therapeutic Horsemanship
This full-service equestrian facility in La Grange focuses on therapeutic riding for individuals with special needs. Its name is a combination of “horse” and “tranquility.” equilitybtc.com • 502.262.2214
Central Kentucky Riding for Hope
Located in Fayette County, this nonprofit offers equine-assisted activities and therapies at the Kentucky Horse Park, serving people with special cognitive and physical needs. ckrh.org • 859.231.7066
…from Ashland to Paducah, 4 million Kentuckians bene t from the Honorable Order of Kentucky Colonels’ Good Works Program. Children, veterans, people with disabilities, the hungry, and the homeless all nd help through the services of 333 nonpro ts receiving grants from us this year.
A commission as a Kentucky Colonel is the highest civilian honor a Kentucky governor can bestow. And many Colonels consider annual or monthly contributions to the Honorable Order to be a continuation of the altruistic activity that earned them that commission.
If you are a Kentucky Colonel, please consider a contribution to the Good Works Program. Call us, or visit KyColonels.org, today.
Million 333 Grants
Million 9156 Grants
Teen Entrepreneur
At 13, this Shelby County native launched a cosmetics company, with part of her proceeds benefiting a worthy cause
BY JACKIE HOLLENKAMP BENTLEY
There are more than 30 million entrepreneurs in the United States, and 25 percent of them are women. Enter Norah Martin, a 13-year-old from Shelby County. She still may be three years from getting her driver’s license, but that hasn’t stopped her from launching her own cosmetics brand, Peach Cosmetics.
For now, lip gloss is the sole product available, but plans are in place to expand the lineup. Martin hand selected each of the 16 rich and glimmering shades available for order, ensuring they all contain vitamin E and are designed for long wear.
“I’m going to have more stuff soon,” she said. “We’re trying to do
eyeshadow and [mascara]. But I chose lip gloss to start because I feel that’s something everybody wants, and it can sell quickly.”
What is Martin’s’ impetus for starting a cosmetics company? Her love of animals. For every lip gloss sold, $1 is donated to the Kentucky Humane Society, where she adopted her beloved dog, Bunk.
“I’ve always had a dog or a horse,” she said. “I’ve been riding [horses] since I was like 4.”
• • •
The Shelby County High School freshman introduced her company to the world in February 2025 after months of research. Clearly, the apple does not fall far from the tree, as
Martin sought advice and assistance from her mother, Kaitlyn Hubert, another successful woman entrepreneur in the beauty industry. Hubert is the co-owner of Golden Aesthetic Atelier. Located in Louisville and Lexington, the salon offers facials, fillers, waxing, and lash and brow enhancements among other services. Hubert also owns Pelo Beauty Collective in Louisville and Lexington. Primarily a hair salon, Pelo lists aesthetic skin treatments among its lineup of services. Pelo West is at The Galt House in downtown Louisville.
“I also own haircare lines Tomboy and Urban Wild, so my garage is full of [lip gloss and haircare products],” Hubert said.
In addition to managing product sales and distribution from their garage, Martin is learning the ropes of what it takes to run a successful business.
“It’s not a lot of my time; it’s not anything that’s annoying, but it definitely does require some time to put in to make it work,” Martin said.
Working under her mother’s guidance, Martin is gaining experience in communication and problem-solving skills—essential tools for any business owner.
“We have different opinions on a lot of stuff,” she said. “So, we have to work together and try to figure out something that we can both agree on.”
The early education apparently is paying off. By using Instagram and email campaigns to increase brand awareness, Martin has seen a steady stream of sales throughout the year.
Each lip gloss costs roughly $20 plus shipping. With those sales comes financial literacy, another skill Hubert said her daughter is learning quickly.
“She’s also learned that profit is
not 100 percent, and that we have to replenish products, so that’s been fun to learn,” Hubert said. “We have to buy postage supplies, our packaging—all that stuff—and then account for the donations that we
13-year-old Norah Martin, right, and her mother, Kaitlyn Hubert.
make to the Humane Society as well.”
Many spend years in college to master such business acumen, and Martin is already learning the ropes before even graduating high school. Yet, running a business empire is not what she wants to do when she “grows up.”
“Mainly, I want to be an equine vet or a big animal vet,” she said. “I want to go to the University of Kentucky for four years … and then go to Auburn University for vet school.”
But for the near future, Martin says she’ll continue to expand her cosmetics line and save enough money to—what else?—buy a horse.
“Soon, hopefully,” she said. Q
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Gun f ighting Governor
William Goebel was elected governor of Kentucky despite having killed a man
BY STUART W. SANDERS
Kentucky Gov. William Goebel, who fell to an assassin’s bullet in 1900, was known for his shrewdness and political savvy. Described as one of “the brightest men in the State” in The Hickman Courier (Fulton County), Goebel rose to the top of Bluegrass State politics, an amazing accomplishment considering he had killed a man in Covington five years before becoming governor. The episode is even more astonishing because Goebel shot his antagonist while standing next to the state’s attorney general.
Born in Pennsylvania on Jan. 4, 1856, Goebel was the son of German immigrants who moved to Covington after the Civil War. After being educated locally, Goebel became an attorney and a Kentucky state senator and served as a member of the state’s 1890 constitutional convention. Despite being socially awkward, he was a whip-smart and decisive politician who was not above making enemies.
On April 11, 1895, Goebel and Kentucky’s attorney general, William Hendrick, walked toward the First National Bank in
Covington. The bank’s cashier, John Sanford, met them at the door. Goebel and Sanford had been feuding for years. In addition to being bitter rivals in the Democratic Party, Goebel had pushed policies that hurt Sanford’s business interests. Sanford was an investor and president of the Covington and Lexington Turnpike Company, and Goebel had sponsored legislation that slashed turnpike toll rates. One newspaper reported that this cut the revenue of the Covington-Lexington Turnpike nearly in half.
Opposite page, the statue of Gov. William Goebel at the Frankfort Cemetery, where he is buried.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PHOTO BY ELLEN TERRELL
Most recently, Sanford was furious about a letter published in the Covington Ledger that “referred to Sanford in the most depraved language.” It was rumored that Goebel had written the article, in which the author called Sanford “Gonorrhea John.” When Sanford saw Goebel walking toward the bank, he confronted the politician.
Using his left hand, Sanford shook hands with Hendrick. He then asked Goebel if he had written the letter. “I did,” Goebel responded.
With his right hand, Sanford drew a revolver and fired, ignoring the fact that the state’s highest legal officer stood just steps away. The bullet tore through Goebel’s clothing but missed his flesh. Goebel pulled his own pistol and shot Sanford above the left eye. The banker immediately fell, his blood splattering the doorframe. The men had been standing so close to customers that the gunpowder from Goebel’s pistol burned the chin of a bystander. Sanford died shortly thereafter.
“He was lying in wait for me,” Goebel said. “I saw him when I reached the gas office, about 20 feet away from the steps of the First National Bank … As soon as I saw him reach for his revolver, I reached for mine.”
Goebel immediately turned himself in to authorities. Later tried for manslaughter, he was acquitted by reason of self-defense. At least one Kentucky newspaper, the Earlington Bee, recognized the folly of the episode. “Such as the Goebel-Sanford killing at Covington last week does no credit to Kentucky and to Kentucky manhood,” the paper wrote. “Here is an example of where each of the two men in violation of the laws of the Commonwealth, carried a pistol concealed about their
person. Both men, too, were looked upon as honorable, upright citizens. This act, alone, throws a true light upon affairs. One dies as the other intended he should—the other, more fortunate, lives with the blood-stain of his fellow-man upon him.”
This, of course, was not enough to deny Goebel the governorship five years later. Other newspapers simply reported, “The meeting to-day showed both were well armed.”
As I note in my book, Anatomy of a Duel: Secession, Civil War, and the Evolution of Kentucky Violence, for decades after the Civil War, impromptu street fights between white male Kentuckians of means who carried concealed weapons made newspaper headlines. These killings were so common that, after Goebel killed Sanford, the Harrodsburg Democrat complained that both men “were controlled by … that strange and overmastering lust for human blood, that brings the state of Kentucky daily into disgrace, and that threatens to destroy the happiness and security of citizenship here. It is an appalling fact that
murder is growing to be one of the minor crimes in Kentucky … it is accompanied with less danger of punishment than theft and arson.”
Instead of finding disgrace, Goebel became governor. His term, however, was brief. After a bitterly contested race, an assassin shot and killed Goebel on Jan. 30, 1900, as he walked toward what is now the Old State Capitol in Frankfort. Goebel’s supporters eventually erected two statues in his honor—one at his grave in the Frankfort Cemetery and another that now stands on the lawn of the Old State Capitol, mere yards from where he was slain. No monument honors John Sanford. Q
Stuart W. Sanders is the author of five books. His latest is Anatomy of a Duel: Secession, Civil War, and the Evolution of Kentucky Violence, published by the University Press of Kentucky.
PHOTO FROM VISIT FRANKFORT
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PHOTO
Another statue of Goebel stands near the Old State Capitol in Frankfort.
Big Day in Newport
John F. Kennedy and his motorcade are pictured on a campaign tour in Northern Kentucky on Oct. 7, 1960, on Carothers Road in Newport, coming down the hill from Fort Thomas. Kennedy was scheduled to visit Covington but made an unexpected detour in Newport first. While there, he visited Ethel Steil, Mrs. John Wagner and Mrs. Nealon Shay, Gold Star Mothers whose sons had been killed in military service. The mothers met Kennedy at the home of Mrs. Steil at 1168 Park Place in Newport.
Kentucky Explorer
Charles
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Newport’s Old Wagon Bridge
By Pamela Ciafardini Casebolt, Alexandria
Neighborhoods are special, and so are the people who live in them. Connectivity from one neighborhood to another is essential.
To connect the neighborhood of Spaghetti Knob (Clifton) in south Newport to the downtown west-end area, the Old Wagon Bridge, called the Wagon Wheel Bridge by some, was built in 1919.
It was a unique wooden truss bridge that carried cars and pedestrians, connecting the hillside area of 13th Street and Grandview Avenue to 12th and Columbia streets. It was constructed above four sets of railroad tracks owned by the Chesapeake & Ohio and the Seaboard System railroad companies. Due to unsafe conditions, it was closed in 1984 with plans to build a new bridge.
It took three years to finalize the design of the new bridge, agree on changing the 12th Street entrance, and make financial agreements. Ultimately, it was agreed that the two railroad companies would pay $600,000, and the Federal Highway Administration would pay $2.4 million. Newport agreed to cover any overruns and take ownership of the bridge upon its completion.
The old bridge was demolished in 1987, and construction began to replace it with a concrete and steel structure at the entrance on 12th and Patterson streets. The replacement opened six years later, but the renaming of the bridge and dedication didn’t take place until July 9, 2001.
At the suggestion of neighborhood resident Dave Manning, the bridge was named the Berning-Jordan Memorial Bridge in honor of Lance Corporal Thomas Joseph Berning and Private First-Class Gary Stephen Jordan. Berning and Jordan were 20-year-old Marines who had served as riflemen in the 1st Marine Division. Serving in different units, they were killed in action by hostile fire in Quang Nam Province, South Vietnam. Jordan was killed on Feb. 24, 1967, and Berning on June 2, 1970.
The dedication of the bridge included a 21-gun salute by the Newport Police Honor Guard. Steve Barton of the University of Louisville played Taps.
A memorial, located on 12th Street, was unveiled by Newport Mayor Tom Guidugli and Dan Vickers, Commander of VFW Post 5662.
Photo courtesy of nkyviews.com
The bridge today. Photo courtesy Kenton County Public Library
1930s Pike County Sheriff’s Election
By Walker Williamson, Middletown, Ohio, and transplanted Pike County Kentuckian, wwilliamson@cinci.rr.com
In the 1920s my grandfather, Marvin Williamson, became a deputy sheriff in Pike County. In those days, Eastern Kentucky had moonshiners and union strife, and it was a dangerous time for law enforcement. The terrain of Pike County is rugged. The roads then were narrow and winding, some accessible only by horseback.
In 1931, my grandfather decided to run for high sheriff of Pike County. He lost the race but was subsequently appointed chief deputy by his opponent. There were some who doubted the honesty of the vote count, but my grandfather did not contest the election. As I know him, his decision was based on what would be in the best interests of the citizens of Pike County.
In his run for the election, he composed, published and distributed a letter to the voters (below). This letter is as good a profile of the character of the man as can be drawn.
An important question: Did my grandfather, a man with an eigth-grade education, write this message? He was extremely well read and self-educated. My belief is that he wrote it, but like any good writer, he had an editor who made suggestions as to content and grammatical accuracy.
To the Voters of Pike County:
I believe that his daughter was the editor and also typed the document.
He speaks of a pledge to be kind and courteous to all, regardless of race, color or creed. The man was ahead of his time. He speaks of giving credit to the deputies he might appoint, a sure sign of a good leader.
He gives credit to his opponents and vows to give them his support if he should lose. Most importantly, he writes, “If I am defeated, I shall return to my duties on the farm with good will in my heart for everyone and malice towards none.” My understanding of history is that our founding fathers envisioned that the people serving in public office would be farmers (admittedly, they only envisioned males as being in public service, a serious error on their part) who, after serving, would return to their farm or profession. Their vision of holding public office was a sacred, short-term duty, not a lifelong career. My grandfather seemed to have grasped this concept.
This story is dedicated to the memory and in honor of Marvin Williamson. It is also to honor members of our family who have served in law enforcement: John Larry Williamson (deceased), Mike Williamson (retired), Alan DeNaro (retired), and those serving now—Michael DeNaro and John Phillip Orsborn
As I have heretofore announced as a candidate for the office of Sheriff of Pike County subject to the action of the Democratic party. I wish to make a few statements in regard to the things I stand for if nominated and elected.
For many years I have had a desire and have been trying to qualify myself for this office believing that I could execute the duties to the credit of myself and the citizens of Pike County.
I began working along this line when I was only a lad and I have had many years in the tough school of experience. If I am elected to this office I will try with all my might to give the people of Pike County four years of true and faithful service.
In my dealings with the people I shall endeavor to be kind and courteous to all with whom I may come in contact regardless of race, color, or creed.
I shall always be striving to do my duty, but trying to do it in such a manner that I will not have to take the life of my fellow man. If I take a man’s horse, his ox, or his corn and become sorry of my act I can give it back, but if I take his life no matter how much I may regret it I can never give that back to him.
In appointing my deputies I shall endeavor to have honest sober discreet men, men who will be a credit to Pike County, and men whom I can point to with pride. I claim a man’s deputies make him a good sheriff or a bad one. No matter how good his intentions are or how good a man he may be, if he has a set of dishonorable deputies, in the estimation of the people he becomes a poor sheriff.
Now as to the men who are my opponents, I have the utmost respect and the kindest regards. They have the same right to aspire to be sheriff of this county as I have and if I happen to become a defeated candidate at the August primary I shall be for either one of my opponents who may happen to be the fortunate one for they are fine splendid men, and I feel sure that either one of them would make Pike County a good sheriff.
Now, in conclusion I wish to say that the majority of the people in Pike County know of my record as a deputy sheriff, you don’t have to guess at me, you know whether I am honest, sober, and cool headed or not. If you believe from my past that I will make you a good sheriff I will appreciate your vote in the coming primary. If you believe otherwise it becomes your duty to vote against me, and if I am defeated I shall return to my duties on the farm with good will in my heart for everyone and malice towards none.
Signed, Marvin Williamson
Send memories to Deborah Kohl Kremer at deb@kentuckymonthly.com or mail to Kentucky Monthly, Attn: Deb Kremer, P.O. Box 559, Frankfort, KY 40602.
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Thanksgiving Memories
By Bobbie Smith Bryant, Jefferson County
I don’t know what your family calls the noonday meal, but at our house, it is called dinner. From my earliest memories, family dinners on Sundays, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter were laid out for the extended family. From great-grandparents, grandparents and parents to aunts and uncles, cousins and siblings, we all came together after church in one place for the big meal. These dining experiences were held at the home of the oldest matriarch.
Our Smith family tradition was different when I was a kid than it is today. Likely a throwback to our German, English or Welsh ancestry, the men always ate first. Whether it was after church on Sunday or a holiday meal, the women cooked and served the men. Afterward, the ladies enjoyed one another’s company over what was left behind. Then, they cleared the table, washed and dried the dishes, and put away the leftovers.
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than-I-am cousins noted in the photograph was that the older women were not smiling for the picture, but those of the younger generations were.
My two great-grandmothers and my granny were wise, and while they were not overly demonstrative, they loved their families. My three great-aunts were not as close to me, but they were always kind. I adored my Aunt Bettie, who had moved away for her first teaching job and was home for the holiday. My momma was a delight, sweet-natured and full of fun. I don’t recall specifics about any of the conversations we had around the dinner table. I’m sure we rambled on about the ordinariness of day-to-day activities, local ball games, recent marriages and babies, summertime vacations, and the current news, until, of course, we eventually got around to politics. It seems that tradition hasn’t changed, as we all have opinions, and we’re not timid in sharing.
Regardless of the origins, it was a tradition that did not change until the holiday gatherings passed to the next generation. Interestingly, this was not a tradition followed by my mother’s side of the family—the Scots-Irish.
For both sides of the family, the food was, of course, the focus for family gatherings. Country or city hams were sometimes served, but there was always a fresh turkey. The women worked for days to prepare an assortment of vegetables, cornbread dressing, deviled eggs and several desserts.
As I reflected on this photo (above), memories of those holiday meals came flooding back. The photo was likely taken around 1970. It was an era when women who had worn only dresses were beginning to don slacks. Another change my younger-
One thing I do remember is that these women were capable of doing anything they set their minds to. Whether it was helping out in the tobacco patch, setting out a large garden, hauling water for the washing machine, putting a worm on a hook to go fishing, or grinding sausage, they could do it all. I always felt safe and cared for when in their company.
Planning, preparing and serving a traditional holiday meal is one way for me to honor these amazing women. Yes, they followed long-held traditions and taught me how to cook, but most of all, they showed me love.
For that, I am thankful.
Previously published in the Murray Ledger & Times
Kentucky supplied 76,000 troops to the Union and 34,000 to the Confederacy during the U.S. Civil War.
The Smith ladies wearing varying expressions in this 1970s holiday photo.
“Tom,” The Potato Chip Man
By Shelby Roy Hopkins, Stanford
When I was growing up back in the 1960s and ’70s, the only type of potato chips available to those of us patronizing country stores in rural settings were Tom’s Potato Chips.
A quick Google search tells me that Tom’s Food Company was established by Tom Huston in Columbus, Georgia, in 1925. Huston began by selling peanuts for 5 cents a bag. Within two years, the company was generating $4 million in annual sales. In 2005, Tom’s Food Company declared bankruptcy and was bought out by another corporation. Tom’s Potato Chips are still available online.
While my grandparents, and later my parents, owned our little country store, Tom’s were the only chips available for us to sell in our part of Kentucky. The only salesman I ever remember running that particular potato chip route was a nice gentleman who lived in Somerset. He was neat and clean in every respect—a big talker and a hard worker. He, like my mother, loved antiques, and on occasion, he bought several things from my mother. We all had many wonderful conversations with him while he stocked the potato chip rack.
As he dutifully stocked the rack each week with potato chips, peanuts, and an assortment of salty snacks, he often discussed matters concerning his family. We learned he had been in the Navy. He looked much younger than his actual age. He kept himself fit as a fiddle—not easy to do in
Take a Hike
By Edwin Hall Sr., as told to Edwin P. Hall Jr., Kennesaw, Georgia
Dad was an old-style preacher who traveled to isolated mountain communities, where there were no established churches to hold services. Sometimes, he took one or more of his children along for company.
In 1934, when I was 14, and my brother, Burgan, was 18, we accompanied Dad from our home at Sand Hill, outside Cumberland in Harlan County, on a hike across Black Mountain to preach at Laura, Virginia. Dad, who was maybe 50 at the time, led Burgan and me over the mountain to the community of Laura for a Saturday evening service.
his line of work. I’m sure he told us his real name, but none of us ever retained it. To everyone in our family, as well as the customers who also interacted with this man throughout the years, he was known simply as “Tom.” He seemed to embrace his identity.
Tom told us that during his three-year enlistment in the Navy, he had hated every single moment of the experience. He anxiously counted down the days until his tour was complete. Alas, just three weeks short of his being discharged, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941.
Tom was stationed in the South Pacific but wasn’t anywhere near the attack. As our military forces around the world learned of the attack, Tom felt a sense of foreboding as the president declared war on both Japan and Germany. The next day, Tom was told all discharges were on hold, and he would have to stay in the Navy.
Disillusioned, he served another three years, still hating every aspect of Navy life. After the war, he returned back home to Somerset. He soon found a job with the potato chip company—a job he liked and one that provided handsomely for him and his family.
I never think of the attack on Pearl Harbor without this memory resurrecting. I truly appreciate every brave military man or woman who has ever served our country, whether willingly or not so willingly. Thank you, Tom, for your friendship and years of dedicated service. We were glad to see you every time you pulled into our parking lot.
I’m sorry we could never remember your real name.
found that 10 inches of snow had fallen. This would only make the hike back across Black Mountain more interesting.
Our relatives pointed out a shortcut up the Virginia side of the mountain that could save us about three hours of travel time. The problem was that snow had covered up any trace of a path, and it was quite a chore hoofing it up that mountain. I led the way, since I was wearing big boots, and Dad and Burgan followed in my footsteps.
After the service, we spent the night with relatives who lived locally. When we woke up on Sunday morning, we
Finally reaching the top of the snowy mountain was a big relief, but we still faced a 9-mile hike down into Lynch.
We managed to arrive in Lynch just before dark. We were cold and hungry and glad to find Dad’s friend, Harrison Williams, at home.
He took us in, thawed us out, and fed us a hot supper. Then Harrison loaded us into his open touring car with no side curtains for a cold ride home to Sand Hill.
Always remembering My ‘Mountain Kingdom’
By Lynda Rees, Demossville (Pendleton County), LyndaReesAuthor.com
The freedom I experienced as a child was intense. A towheaded, bib overall-wearing sovereign, I was allowed to roam my Eastern Kentucky Appalachian kingdom at will. Pine-covered mountains around our holler home in Bonnyman in Perry County were filled with wonder for me. It was a different time and place in the mid-1950s. The only things to fear were an occasional copperhead or rattlesnake.
When not climbing the mountain surrounding our home, my first stop was Aunt Ruby’s kitchen, where we drank lemonade and chatted. When their kids were home, teenaged cousins Brenda and Leona liked to style my blonde pigtails. Alfred and Earl, identical twins five years older than me, and Bootsey, four years my senior, never balked at their girl cousin who wanted to tag along as they waded the creek to catch crawdads or played in their secret clubhouse beneath the front porch. I was the only girl allowed there.
The next-door neighbor’s front room had been converted into a grocery store, where I inspected ongoing games of checkers by older gents seated beside the potbelly stove. After I assured the game was in progress, and if their children weren’t allowed to come out to play, I trekked next door, where daily, an elderly couple rocked on their front porch. They seemed to have anticipated my arrival, always offered a treat, and had much to chat about. I don’t believe they entertained much company, so they welcomed my visits.
My next stop was across a scarcely graveled one-lane road to Uncle Dan “The Candy Man” and beautiful Aunt Evelyn’s house for a game of peek-a-boo with their toddlers Danny Ray and Carolyn. Uncle Dan was at work.
Afterward, at the house beside Uncle Dan and Aunt Evelyn’s, I enjoyed helping Aunt Deola with whatever chore she was doing or joined her for a television show. We had to be quiet, though, because Uncle Earl, freshly home from Korea, slept days and worked nights.
Finally, I arrived at my destination, the farm after Earl’s along the road, my grandparents’ house. I called them Mom and Daddy Lida. They have remained the cornerstone of my existence. I learned so much from them it’s difficult to list it all. They taught me about religion, the Bible and how to think for myself. They taught me to be
tough, be strong and work hard. And they taught me by example how to love unconditionally with all my heart, showing me how a lifetime passion for one person was not only possible but the best thing that could happen to someone. They also showed me it could not be taken for granted. They loved each other more than life itself until their lives ended when they were in their 90s.
I spent days sitting behind Mom’s massive cast-iron, coal-burning cookstove and churned butter in a wooden vessel. Some days, I sat on the rock wall behind their house in a strawberry patch, eating more berries than I saved for Mom to can. Other days, she tied her shirt-waist dress’ skirt between her legs. I crawled behind her through the garden learning to pull weeds and not vegetable plants. At harvest time, I helped build a fire in the yard, where she boiled water in a galvanized bathtub to can vegetables and fill her cellar shelves. When the water cooled, I was allowed to “swim” in it as long as I wanted.
In the spring, Daddy Lida borrowed a neighbor’s mule and carried a heavy plow up to his mountainside garden. I followed him back and forth as they plowed rows. Once the soil was silky thin, he walked along each one, poking holes for me to follow and deposit three seeds each before covering them gently.
While Daddy Lida milked his solitary cow, his barn became my jungle gym. I climbed rafters and walked across stall wall tops like balance beams or played in his corn bin. On other days, we rested on a front porch glider, each reading the Bible. I’m sure he got little reading done, as I continually asked him to explain one verse or another. It was a wonderful way to learn to read at the age of 4.
My grandparents had the patience of Job, never losing their tempers or acting disgruntled that their young granddaughter couldn’t get enough of their company. They simply accepted my presence as a given, kept me out of danger, taught me about whatever they were working on, and showed me more love than one person could absorb— enough to last a lifetime.
Daddy picked me up after working in the Blue Diamond Mine. His metal safety helmet had left his sandy blonde hair sweaty. The goggles he’d worn at work left clean skin around his eyes. Except for those two places and from his neck up, coal dust had mixed with sweat and coated his skin with a slick, shiny layer of black. His uniform clothing was dusty black, and his grin was warm and welcoming. My daddy was my hero.
Later in life, Mom reminded me that I sat at a window watching for him when he was due, and I recited, “Through my window I can see my daddy coming home to me.”
I never noticed the poverty, cared about hand-me-down clothing, or felt jealous of anyone. I didn’t care that we ate free cheese from the mine’s commissary. I was grateful for my warm coat in the winter and shoes to wear. Some of my friends were not so lucky and were forced to save theirs for school. At least I had a pair I was allowed to play in when it snowed. Other than that, I preferred to go barefoot, even though twice I stepped on nails that penetrated through my foot.
I felt rich, and I was in so many ways. In standards of the day and place, we must’ve been. We were the first house in our area to have electricity, and we had cold running spring water in the kitchen.
At Bonnyman Elementary School, the principal filled a bucket with drinking water. We students used a dipper to fill water glasses we brought from home. On cold mornings before class, we built a fire in the classroom’s coal-burning pot-belly stove, standing around it to warm our hands. A neighbor cooked lunch and brought it to our classrooms, where we ate off her plates at our desks. There were grades one through six. Our principal taught the sixth grade. Like our homes, the school had outhouses—no bathrooms, central heating or running water.
When Daddy was laid off work at the mines, my perfect world was rocked. My freedom was lost. We moved north to the city for Daddy to find steady work in a less dangerous job as warehouse manager for an art publishing company.
He was the bravest man I’ve known. It takes grit to relocate your family to an unknown area, knowing no one and without the support system of family around us, as we’d been used to. Daddy taught me to be brave, go after what I wanted in life, and that I could accomplish anything.
I was no longer allowed to roam freely. Town living held unfamiliar dangers that my parents feared. Restrictions and warnings became part of my life lessons.
Kids made fun of my accent and tried to be cruel. I refused to accept that and pushed past it by laughing with them and learning their ways so I could fit in. I made friends and found my niche among my schoolmates.
The Cleveland Mob ruled Northern Kentucky’s entertainment industry between 1920-1978, when the FBI shut down organized crime in the top five mob-run cities, including Newport. The area has since morphed into a legitimate, thriving,
economically sound entertainment and dining destination city, unlike it was when I was a child.
I grew up with the children of gangsters and lived among those people. Like most of the working class, I was aware but not overly concerned. It was just how things were. I stayed out of trouble and didn’t give it much thought at the time.
I missed family—those who had taught me, loved me wholeheartedly, and made my life ideal in my eyes. My heart ached, especially for my grandparents. I missed my mountain kingdom, the blissful happiness I’d experienced, and the freedom and innocence I’d had as a youngster.
Even Appalachian Kentucky changed over the years. Modernization morphed mountains into heavily populated homes and businesses. Engineering advances made cutting massive chunks out of steep mountainsides possible to create level spaces for industry. Expressways made remote areas accessible. Deep-shaft mining was reduced as surface strip mining took over. Pine-covered peaks looked nothing like their natural state I remember. Chalet condos covered the mountainside where my grandparents’ farm had been, land I had loved so dearly.
Letter writing kept me connected to Mom, Daddy Lida and other family members back home. We vacationed in the summer with them. Daddy and my uncles slaughtered pigs that Daddy Lida had raised. Eventually, telephone access allowed us to talk frequently, but it would never be the same.
Our family adapted and adjusted to city life. As I aged, restrictions were lowered. I became a part of my new world and learned to love it. I thrived, but I never stopped missing what I will always remember as down home.
Kentuckian John C. Breckinridge, Stephen A. Douglas and John Bell.
Class Picture
This 1940s photo shows the Averitt School on Ky. 272 in Trigg County. Photo courtesy of the Trigg County Historical Society.
Kentucky’s Iron Furnaces
By Terry Baldridge, Argillite (Greenup County) terbald18@comcast.net, www.terbald.com
When driving or hiking along isolated sections of Kentucky, some people have come across what can be best described as pyramid shaped structures. Some of these have collapsed over the years, while others still stand tall as a salute to a bygone era for the Commonwealth.
That was Kentucky’s charcoal iron production era, which began in 1791 when the first pyramid or furnace went into blast, and ended in 1912, when the last ceased operation.
During the 1830s, Kentucky ranked as high as third in the country in iron production. But that ranking began to wane because of the country’s financial insecurities, the discovery of vast natural resources in other states, and Kentucky’s dwindling resources.
produce iron did not become widely accessible until the 1830s. Consequently, coal was a more expensive alternative to charcoal, which remained the predominant heat source until the mid-1800s.
Kentucky boasted 58 of these furnaces, and they were spread across the Commonwealth—from the Big Sandy area in the east to the Land Between the Lakes region in the west.
These iron-producing pyramids were in the following counties: Bath, Boyd, Bullitt, Calloway, Carter, Crittenden, Edmonson, Estill, Green, Greenup, Hart, Lawrence, Livingston, Lyon, Nelson, Menifee, Muhlenberg, Powell, Trigg and Wayne.
Greenup County had more furnaces than any other county with 15, while three counties are tied for second with five each.
Charcoal was favored as the primary heat source due to its affordability and the abundance of lumber available for charcoal production in the Commonwealth. The technology and infrastructure required to use coal to
The pyramid—or stack—was constructed with stone and, in a few cases, many layers of brick. Most of the furnaces in the state used sandstone on the outer and inner layers of the stack. An opening in the middle of the stack was used for the furnace, where the smelting of iron took place. That furnace was made of brick that was fired on furnace company property. The brick was laid at the bottom of the stack to the round opening—or charge hole—at the top.
A structure was constructed on top of the stack that extended to a hill behind. This was called the charge house. It was there that the charcoal, limestone and iron ore were weighed and loaded into the furnace from the top. This was referred to as charging the furnace.
A steam engine and blowing cylinders were in the engine house. These provided the blast of air into the furnace through one, two or sometimes three smaller openings in the furnace stack.
The structure in front of the furnace’s largest opening was called the casting house. When the molten iron was ready, it was released from the furnace and ran via a large channel into the casting house. The long iron channels—or ditches—were called sows, and the shorter channels that ran from the sows were called pigs. This was because they are reminiscent of pigs or piglets feeding from their mother or sow, and that is why the iron was called pig iron or pig metal.
Above, the Mount Savage Furnace stack, located near Hitchins in Carter County, as it appears today.; left, an 1884 photograph of Carter County’s Mount Savage Furnace.
The furnace was the center of the village or furnace plantation and employed a hundred to several hundred men. The plantation consisted of the furnace with its supporting structures, a general store, livestock barns, a church, a school and cabins for the employees and their families. The iron master’s home was comparable to the nicest homes in nearby towns and served as a sign of importance in the community.
The iron master was the overseer of all activities that took place at the furnace plantation. Under him were the general store clerk; the collier, who oversaw the lumber cutting and charcoal making; and the foundryman, who was responsible for iron production. Then there were the workers— men and boys who had many duties at the furnace. Much of the work was fraught with danger to those working. Many furnace ledgers that survive list the purchase of coffins of different sizes along with other necessities.
Above, the Fitchburg Furnace Stack, the largest charcoal iron furnace in the world from 18691874, as it appears today; right, this marker near Argillite gives a brief history of the nearby Pennsylvania Furnace.
Before emancipation, many Kentucky furnaces used enslaved men and boys to do much of the work. At several furnaces, it has been reported that nearly all the workforce was enslaved. Being close to Illinois, Indiana and Ohio, several enslaved workers escaped and made their way to freedom via the Underground Railroad.
The furnace company owned everything at the plantation and, like the coal companies that came afterward, printed its own scrip. The company purchased essential items in bulk from cities far and near at a reduced rate. Using the company scrip as currency ensured that the general store was in profit even if iron sales struggled.
The first charcoal iron furnace constructed in the state was Bourbon Furnace in today’s Bath County. It wasn’t named for the state’s famous bourbon whiskey but for the county of Virginia in which it was constructed at that time. Kentucky would not become the country’s 15th state until June 1792. The stack of Bourbon Furnace still stands.
The crown jewel of Kentucky’s iron furnaces was also the largest charcoal iron furnace in the world. Fitchburg
Furnace was built in 1869 and was designed by Frank Fitch It is one massive stone stack in which two large furnaces were housed. It is more like a giant box than a pyramid and is in a beautiful valley in the Daniel Boone National Forest in Estill County.
Lyon County was home to four charcoal iron furnaces, but two furnaces proved important to the history of steel making.
The iron master of Eddyville and Suwanee Furnaces, William Kelly, conducted experiments at both furnaces that led to the development of the pneumatic steel-making process that became known as the Bessemer Process. It was partly because of Kelly that steel was produced more quickly and nearly 90 percent less expensive than before his process. The immediate benefit was the expansion of railroads and the use of steel in constructing bridges and buildings worldwide.
Kentucky’s last charcoal iron furnace, Trigg County’s Center Furnace, went cold in 1912. By that time, many of the hills and valleys near where these pyramids produced iron were devoid of trees and other natural resources. Once the furnace stopped producing, the people left, and the furnace plantation or village disappeared. Some of the places are still inhabited, and some still bear the name once given to the furnace that smelted pig iron there more than a century and a half before.
At many of these sites today, there is a Kentucky Historical Highway Marker that provides a brief history of this nearly lost chapter of industry in our state. At others, the markers have been vandalized or have simply disappeared, like the iron-producing pyramids that once dotted the Commonwealth.
For more extensive information on the Commonwealth’s iron furnaces, check out Terry Baldridge’s The Charcoal Iron Furnaces of Kentucky.
Tompkinsville is the largest town in Monroe County and is its county seat.
Butchering the Large White
By David R. Caudill, Daytona Beach, Florida
Today, not as many Kentuckians butcher their own hogs. Now that everyone is worrying about cholesterol and triglycerides, hogs are kept lean and usually slaughtered at about 225 pounds. Farmers haul them to nearby slaughterhouses, where they are killed, dipped into a vat of hydrated lime to remove the hair, butchered, packaged and identified by specific cuts. Then, it is flash frozen and picked up by the owner in neat little packages. This was not so in the 1950s.
Pork was important to early Kentucky settlers. It served as a much-needed source of protein. Hogs also provided a source of fat for cooking and as a major soap ingredient. Hogs can have two litters a year and, if bred correctly, can have as many as five litters every two years. This gave folks a meat source when hunting was scarce, as it often was in the winter.
Most hogs in Kentucky are descendants of the Large White prevalent in England then and today. Americans call them Yorkshires. They are distinguished by their white hair, pink skin and long sides. They are sturdy animals that can withstand a variety of climates. They are further known for their large size and their ability to have large litters—eight to 12 piglets are not uncommon.
These characteristics made them ideal for early settlers. In an era when most fences were split rail and difficult to build and maintain, it was easier to let them roam wild in the woods. Hogs are omnivorous—that is, they will eat anything. There was an abundance of acorns, chestnuts, beechnuts and walnuts in the woods, but they also feasted on grubs, roots and berries.
Of course, the settlers had to mark their stock. They did not brand them like ranchers in the west branded their cattle. Rather, they cut marks in an ear. It might be a notch or two or perhaps a crescent. Neighbors knew each other’s mark and usually left each other’s stock alone. Woe be to someone caught stealing a neighbor’s hog. Kentucky law was, and still is, strict on that account if it even got to court. Sometimes, early settlers exacted their own justice.
Some claim the Hatfield-McCoy Feud was started over a dispute over two razor-backed hogs.
With all those wild hogs running loose, early settlers faced three problems. One was marking new pigs. They literally had to hunt down their sows, catch the small pigs, and mark them. Second, gardens weren’t sacred to a hungry hog. They would rather eat someone’s vegetables than hunt for them, so farmers were forced to build fences around their garden patches. Finally, when cold weather arrived for butchering time, they had to scour the woods for their hogs.
This was easier said than done.
The hogs were wild, and often, the farmer had to shoot them just as if he were hunting game. This then necessitated his hauling the hogs to the butchering place—usually a large platform or an old door. This platform was raised on one end so the blood and water ran off. To scrape the hair from a hog, you had to first scald it with boiling water. This loosened the
skin enough to allow scraping with a knife. Even then, though, it was no easy job. Once scraped, the hog was lifted by its hind legs using a rope and pulley attached to a tree. This allowed the hog to be split down the middle and cleaned.
Then began the chopping, sawing and cutting. Cleavers, hatchets and saws were used to cut the hog into manageable parts. The shoulders and hams were separated to be preserved, which was done by either salting or smoking. Before smoking, the meat was dipped in salty brine water to control the bacteria until smoking could provide a protective cover against bacteria. Virtually every farm had a small building with hooks to hang meat, while a small smoky fire was kept going for days. This building also had shelves for salting the bacon. Other parts were eaten early because there was no refrigeration. All fatty parts were placed in a big cauldron and heated to render the fat for cooking and for making soap. The meat or cracklings that remained after the rendering was eaten on bread and sometimes even mixed in the bread. Another way to preserve the parts not salted or smoked was to fry it, place it in a container, and cover it with the grease. This kept out oxygen and bacteria.
In the summer of 1954, Dad and my uncles Joshua Caudill and Lige Sizemore hit upon a scheme to make some money. Coal wasn’t in great demand, so my uncles had time to spare, and certainly they and my father could use the money. They decided to kill a hog, butcher it and sell the meat. My great-uncle, Jeff Caudill, had a large hog he wanted to sell for $100, so the three of them went together and bought it. It was a Large White and “large” is the optimum word. Uncle Jeff allowed us
American folk singer Mary Travers of the group Peter Paul & Mary was born in Louisville on Nov. 9, 1936.
to kill it at his property on McIntosh Creek in Leslie County.
We certainly had no way to haul it away live. Of course, I was taken along to help with the work.
It was the largest hog I had ever seen. It was a boar and dressed out close to 500 pounds. On the appointed day, we arrived early in the morning, shot and stuck it, and proceeded with the scraping and butchering. When we hung it by its hind legs in a tree, it looked like a cow. And was it fat! We cut it into manageable parts and wrapped the meat in white butcher’s paper. My uncles sold it door to door. The bacon was so fat they didn’t have much luck selling it, but they got the $100 back, and each of the three families ended up with about 50 pounds of usable meat and enough fat to render out a stand of lard each. All in all, that was pretty good pay for a day’s work in the 1950s.
In the fall of 1957, I graduated from Buckhorn High School, enlisted in the U.S. Air Force and was stationed at an Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron in Labrador, just a few hundred miles from the Arctic Circle.
My mother, Lula Caudill, said that one Saturday after cold weather set in, Dad decided to butcher a hog. My two brothers, Henry and Bill, were sent up the mountainside to gather chestnut rails. My father and I had fenced the property with barbed wire, so the split-rail fence was unnecessary, plus the rails were deteriorating.
Those chestnut rails are so valuable today. A blight hit the American Chestnut in the 1930s and killed them. What stately trees they were, too. I have seen stumps greater than 6 feet across! It was beautiful wood. Light colored and sturdy, it was great for furniture. It split easily, too, so it was ideal for fence rails and shakes (shingles) for houses. I have seen cabins close to 100 years old
with what appeared to be the original chestnut shakes.
Anyway, every time water needed boiling, one of us was sent up the mountainside for chestnut rails to boil the water. With this accomplished, Dad and Uncle Josh proceeded to kill the hog. Usually when you kill a hog, you shoot him between the eyes and cut its throat so it loses most of its blood. This makes the meat taste better. To facilitate the bleeding out, you also go in through the cut and puncture the hog’s heart. Uncle Josh did this—or thought he did.
The hog appeared dead and was hooked up to old Barney the mule, who pulled it over to the house. They maneuvered it onto the old door we used for butchering and poured scalding water on it in preparation for scraping.
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The hog must have been stunned, and certainly Uncle Josh had missed puncturing its heart because when they poured boiling water onto it, it jumped up, anf ran squealing back to the barnyard, where it finally died. It was with great chagrin on his face that Uncle Josh once again hooked old Barney to the hog to drag it to the house.
Both Uncle Joshua and my father are gone. And I no longer butcher hogs. However, I would never trade the experience or the memories. It was an integral part of growing up at the head of Rockhouse Fork of Big Willard. I still smile when I think of butchering hogs back in Kentucky. By the way, although I have read stories about large hogs, I still haven’t seen a larger hog than that Large White on McIntosh Creek.
WANTED Paying cash for large diamonds; collections of vintage wrist and pocket watches; gold and silver coins; sterling flatware and serving pieces; gold and silver jewelry; collections of arts and crafts and pottery; antique advertising signs; antique walking canes; pocket knives; collections of antique guns and swords; military collections; early hand-crafted crocks and jugs; musical instruments. Call Clarence, buyer for more than 35 years, 606.531 0467.
KENTUCKY ANTIQUE TRAIL — Trail brochures/maps are in Kentucky state welcome centers and member stores. Visit KentuckyAntiqueTrail.com. Contact info@AntiqueTrail.com or call 256.797.5640.
BOOK FOR SALE —
This rich book is both a history and military history. The former covers how and why we came to revere, retrieve, identify and return our military fallen. The latter explains how we do it. The author cites his most difficult recovery and identification as Commander of the Army’s Recovery and Forensic laboratory.
Squire Boone first explored Doe Run Creek in present-day Meade County in 1778.
Boyhood Shenanigans
It would have been a pleasure to have grown up with William Robey “Bill” Harris. He, like I, praises the days before Little League, “helicopter parents” and even television.
Harris lived on the Tennessee border in Franklin (Simpson County). His pastimes included tormenting his older sister and even getting into trouble with the local police.
After mistakenly driving one of his father’s noisy fertilizer trucks into a funeral procession, Harris was pulled over by the local police. When his father showed up, he told the police chief, “Well, the boy does not have any sense.” The policeman walked away.
Harris soon bounced back to perform other indiscretions.
After a week at Camp Currie, the adolescent Harris returned home without having changed his clothes or taken a bath the entire time.
“Get in the bathroom and brush your teeth and get in the bathtub and scrub all over,” his mother demanded when she saw him.
By Bill Ellis
A Mule’s Tale
Some of the best stories are told from the point of view of a mule, right? It works in the children’s book Junia: The Book Mule of Troublesome Creek Kim Michele Richardson, who penned the award-winning The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek that sets the background for Junia, has created a fun and historically accurate storyline to introduce readers ages 4-8 to the Great Depression-era Pack Horse Librarians of Kentucky. Through 40 pages of an engaging narrative and beautiful illustrations by David C. Gardner, readers can ride with Junia along the path on the hilly, stream-laced terrain of Eastern Kentucky, where books are dutifully delivered to appreciative patrons—adults and children. The mule protagonist, Junia, unabashedly shares in the joy of the journey and the mission. Junia also takes special care for the safety of the Book Woman, as demonstrated when she stubbornly refuses to cross a dangerous, rickety bridge. The book is billed as a “tribute to Kentucky’s Great Depression Pack Horse Library Project.”
By Steve Flairty
Piecing Together the Past
Jan Schiffer was raised by caring adoptive parents, and she always will appreciate them. She was unaware of her adoption until age 6, when a younger cousin blurted it out in a fit of anger. Confronted by the young and confused Jan, her father reassured her that she was “chosen” and special to the family.
But as she grew into adulthood, she developed a deep hunger to learn about her birth parents and the circumstances leading to her adoption. Her desire for what she termed “finding the rest of me” spurred her to intense investigation, which led her to write the riveting memoir Finding the Rest of Me.
In the book, Schiffer, who now lives in Frankfort, puts together the puzzle pieces, sharing her search for her roots in a heartfelt and engaging way. Along with discovering information about her birth parents, she tells the fascinating history of Friends Rescue Home, her birthplace she calls a “unique haven for unwed mothers in Columbus, Ohio.”
Schiffer’s work is a gift to those who walk a similar path and long to navigate their struggle.
By Steve Flairty
Junia: The Book Mule of Troublesome Creek by Kim Michelle Richardson, Sleeping Bear Press, $18.99 (H)
Finding the Rest of Me, by Jan Lawson Schiffer, Fishtail Publishing, $17.95 (P)
A Kentucky Boy With No Sense: An Old Judge Recounts His Boyhood Misadventures in Franklin, Kentucky, by Judge (Ret.) William Robey Harris Jr., $12 (P)
Powerful Poems
Erlanger native and Edgewood resident R.L. Barth has published a stirring collection of brief but powerful poems recalling the days of one of America’s most controversial military conflicts. That Mad Game: New Vietnam War Poems may resonate with those closely involved in the war but, because of Barth’s skillfully chosen words and authenticity, also may powerfully inform others who are unaware of a time that polarized the nation and dramatically changed our culture.
The 56-page collection features his own experiences in Vietnam and touches on America’s other wars.
A one and only line from an offering called “Death” is simply: “I am breathing, still.”
Barth is a United States Marine veteran and has a long family history connected to military service, stretching to the American Civil War. He has strong writing chops and holds a Wallace Stegner fellowship from Stanford University, joining Wendell Berry, Bobbie Ann Mason and the late Gurney Norman and Ed McClanahan
By Steve Flairty
Soul Music City
Louisville has been a goldmine of African American musicians and entertainers over the years. To celebrate, Ken Clay, with the help of several collaborators, has published a comprehensive coffee table book called The Soulful Sounds of Derbytown. This beautifully illustrated work profiles hundreds of performers and groups and includes a list of current and historical entertainment venues around Louisville.
Those celebrated include Jimmy Ellis and the Riverview Singers, who play gospel music. In the genre of string and jug music are the Louisville Band, pioneer B.D. Tite and others. Blues performers include Ophelia Simpson and Sylvester Weaver. Louisville jazz performers, such as the incomparable Lionel Hampton, are spotlighted, as is Loraine Rudolph and her Motown sound.
Years in the making, this book presents a comprehensive resource for music history lovers with a bent toward African American culture in Kentucky.
By Steve Flairty
The Soulful Sounds of Derbytown: A Tribute to Louisville’s African American Musicians and Entertainers,by Ken Clay, et al., Butler Books, $50 (H)
Murder in the Bluegrass State
The latest addition to author Laurien Berenson’s Senior Sleuths series is a humorous tale of the bantering/bickering gray-haired sisters-in-law on the hunt for a murderer.
This is the third book in the cozy mystery series, in which main character Peg Turnbull is a circuit judge for dog shows in Connecticut. In this story, Berenson’s Kentucky ties are apparent as Peg and Rose Donovan travel to the Bluegrass State for a dog show and a Thoroughbred sale.
Kentuckians will love the horse racing references that are woven into the whodunit. The mystery will keep readers guessing, and the ladies’ dialog will keep them laughing.
Berenson, the award-winning author of the Melanie Travis canine mystery series, lives on a farm near Lexington with her family, horses and dogs.
By Deborah Kohl Kremer
That Mad Game, by R.L. Barth, Scienter Press, $12 (P)
Peg and Rose Play the Ponies, by Laurien Berenson, Kensington Cozies, $27 (H)
Decadent Henderson
When one thinks of past stories of corruption and illicit gambling in Kentucky, Newport comes to mind. Henderson likely wouldn’t be brought up. In the late 1940s, however, the town was, according to an Owensboro newspaper, “on the wild and wooly side of life,” with widespread lawbreaking conducted practically out in the open.
A Henderson native, Billy Parks Burton has fashioned a novel about the times. Turn a Blind Eye focuses on fictional reporter and Henderson native Hoyt Cole, who hopes to reclaim his town through reporting that risks his personal welfare.
Crafting action scenes and effective dialogue, Burton treats the reader to the intrigue of Kentucky history. Former Kentucky Supreme Court Justice Bill Cunningham, who is familiar with Western Kentucky’s history, praised Burton for using “words like a gifted painter uses a brush, painting a colorful picture where fiction and fact blend perfectly.”
Burton lives in Owensboro and is an award-winning visual artist who formerly was a practicing pharmacist.
By Steve Flairty
Family Life
Spanning the 1950s-1970s, this fictional story follows the lives of the Atlee and Caughill families who live near Bowling Green. The men worked in the mines, and the women maintained the homes and reared the children.
The novel’s storyline includes marriages, chores and deaths, and details of events in the characters’ lives—receiving oranges for Christmas, attending a pie supper and the tale of a self-trained vet who ordered books from the Sears Roebuck catalog.
What brings this story to life is a narrative that includes phonetic, authentic dialog. The author captures conversations and writes them in the Southern Kentucky twang that isn’t always grammatically correct but sounds familiar. “Terbacker shore looks purty,” one character says.
Rickie Zayne Ashby, who lives in Western Kentucky, has based these characters on members of his family. This is his second book on the Atlee and Caughill families, continuing the story from At the End of the Road: My Journey from Walton’s Creek.
By Deborah Kohl Kremer
Entrepreneurial Pair
This well-researched book is the true account of Susie Tillett and Arthur Jack, who met in 1892, when they were in their early 30s. Tillett ran a parlor house, which was the polite phrase for an upscale brothel. Jack was a saloon owner and businessman. The couple did business in Lexington and Chattanooga, and due to their racy occupations, occasionally their names were included on court dockets and in the press.
The book relates an interesting story of real people whose life work often is not portrayed in the setting of 1890s Lexington. The book takes readers through the pair’s life stories, and the author has included well-documented endnotes and an index. There is a large selection of photos of folks mentioned in the book, along with maps, advertisements and a genealogy chart.
Originally from Woodford County, author David B. Dearinger lives in Richmond, Virginia. He has a special interest in telling this story, as he is Tillett and Jack’s great-grandson.
By James Hoffman
A Southern Madam and Her Man, by David B. Dearinger, BookBaby,
Turn a Blind Eye, by Billy Parks Burton, Butler Books, $29.95 (H)
Walton’s Creek: Land of our Fathers, A Novel, Volume II, by Rickie Zayne Ashby, Acclaim Press, $29.95 (H)
$21.95 (P)
Spirited Collection
Marvin Bartlett likes to collect “little” stories that ring powerfully, especially those discovered around his adopted state, Kentucky. And he loves to share those stories.
In his new book, Spirit of the Bluegrass: Strange, Surprising, and Sentimental Stories from Kentucky, readers will get a heapin’ passel of true-life narratives. A TV news reporter since 1985, the Lexington resident is the anchor and managing editor for WDKY (Fox 56), working there from the beginning of the news operation in 1995.
The book features more than 200 people and 70 photographs. It is divided into four main sections: Spirited Places, Holiday Spirit, Spirited People and Unexpected Spirit.
Stories include the “Lawn Mower Brigade” performing their dance at Wilmore’s Fourth of July celebration, the “Apple Pie Lady” in Millersburg, and the “Be Kind Sisters” in La Grange, Raegan and Rylyn Richins (Kentucky Monthly, November 2022).
This book demonstrates the creativity and individualism of folks throughout the Bluegrass State.
By Steve Flairty
Kentucky Railway Museum NORTH POLE EXPRESS
Spirit of the Bluegrass: Strange, Surprising, and Sentimental Stories from Kentucky, by Marvin Bartlett, Globe Pequot, $27.95 (P)
BY BILL ELLIS
Lowell Harrison: Gentleman, Historian
“Some small changes marked the transition from civilian life,” wrote Lowell Harrison with his usual charm and wit in an article in the Register of the Kentucky Historical Society (Summer 1998).
“I had to reduce my stride to the regulation 30 inches, the high-top shoes chafed my ankles, and I was surprised by the frequency with which the Army tested for venereal disease.” I can almost see the sparkle in his eyes as he wrote these words.
Born in 1922, Harrison spent his college days at Western Kentucky State Teachers College. His education there was interrupted by America’s entry into World War II. He was accepted for Officer Candidate School.
Much of Harrison’s training was in New York City, being assigned to New York University. Back home, “ ‘Seafood’ meant Barren River catfish, and subs and pizza were alien terms. New York was a revelation to me,” he wrote.
When he had leave, he took in baseball games, football, the Radio City Rockettes and other diversions, which included taking correspondence courses at the NYU Department of History.
Part of the 104th Division, the Timberwolves, became heavily armored engineers in combat. Harrison’s main specialization, he recalled, “was demolitions. (It has not been a great help in my postwar profession.)”
Throughout the combat, Harrison kept up his correspondence coursework. His unit took part in
fighting all the way into Germany. While waiting for a buildup before probing deeper, “I had my worst injury of the war,” he wrote. “It consisted of two charley horses acquired in a touch football game. The game was suspended by unanimous consent when a German 88 opened up on us.”
The end of the war in Europe came with the meeting of American and Russian troops. “When the Russians appeared on the Mulde River, there was a day of celebration and exhilaration. The next morning, they were busy digging machine-gun emplacements facing us. For us, the Cold War had begun,” Harrison wrote.
After Japan’s surrender, Harrison remained in the service until he had enough “points” to return to civilian life. He moved back to Western for a few months, graduating in 1946, then went to NYU for his M.A. and Ph.D., graduating in 1951. There he met his future wife, Penny, and together they spent time in London on a School of Economics Fulbright award. After several years at West Texas State College, he became part of the history faculty at Western Kentucky University, retiring in 1988.
Along the way, Harrison taught history classes at WKU, wrote 15 books, and edited others. His major works included: George Rogers Clark and the War in the West, Lincoln of Kentucky, The Antislavery Movement in Kentucky, John Breckinridge: Jeffersonian Republican, The Civil War in Kentucky and, of course, a history of his beloved WKU, a model for my work on Eastern Kentucky University.
Harrison co-authored A New History of Kentucky with James C. Klotter. Always available to encourage the work of others, Harrison served as an associate editor of The Kentucky Encyclopedia under Editor-in-Chief John E. Kleber
Nancy Baird, a longtime associate in the Kentucky Museum at WKU, wrote that Harrison “made history come alive, made the people real—and fascinating (& without halos)—and his knowledge of the important and interesting and his sense of humor made his classes fun—as well as a challenge.”
Tom Eblen, retired Lexington Herald-Leader managing editor and WKU graduate, declared, “Dr. Harrison was a fine teacher and writer, and his deep knowledge of Kentucky history always made me want to know more.”
Trace Kirkwood, longtime curator at The Filson Historical Society and another former student of Harrison’s, found him to be something of a taskmaster when it came to research and writing. “Dr. Harrison’s standard was to write at the level that would be accepted by
academic journals,” he said.
When Kirkwood received his first paper back from Harrison, “there was hardly an inch of any of the pages that didn’t have red ink. There had to be footnotes.”
Kirkwood recalled that Harrison “never had a driver’s license. His wife, Penny, carted him to a lot of places, but he almost always walked up the Hill to his office in Cherry Hall. No matter the weather, I saw him hoofing up the Hill in the heat of August and September and frozen days of January. Dr. Harrison was a true gentleman. Behind that gentle demeanor of a soft-spoken Southern gentleman was a bulldog of a professor. He had lofty standards for history students at WKU.”
James J. Holmberg, curator emeritus of The Filson Historical Society, declared: “Harrison remains one of the deans of Kentucky historians and authors. I was fortunate to know Lowell through his
research and lecture visits. He was a talented researcher and writer, the epitome of a scholar and gentleman.”
• • •
Harrison was active outside his teaching, writing and editing. He served on several boards, including the Editorial Board of the University Press of Kentucky, the Publication Committees of The Filson Club and the Kentucky Historical Society, and the Kentucky Oral History Commission.
To honor this valued professor, friends and colleagues at WKU created the Lowell Harrison Scholarship Fund in 1997 to perpetuate his legacy as a historian and educator.
“Lowell was industrious, kind and, of course, a good historian,” said Klotter, state historian and longtime Georgetown College professor of history. “Unlike too many of his
colleagues, he was patient and understanding in his dealings with other historians; as a result, the historical profession and his coworkers deservedly honored and respected him. And he wrote good history. If you owned a Lowell Harrison book, you could be certain that it contained excellent research, sound conclusions, clear writing and the ‘Harrison touch.’ ”
Harrison died at the age of 88 on Oct. 12, 2011, in Owensboro.
I am sure I have about persuaded you that Harrison ranks among the greatest historians in Kentucky, Southern and American history.
I hope that those of you who were his students, colleagues and friends will email me some of your Harrison memories.
Readers may contact Bill Ellis at editor@kentuckymonthly.com
BY GARY GARTH
God’s Hand
The news arrived on a warm September evening from a friend via text message.
“Larry died this evening.”
The Larry in question was Larry Rea. Charles Larry Rea, officially, although in the 36 years I knew him, I never heard anyone refer to him as Charles and doubt more than a handful knew Larry wasn’t his first name.
Larry enjoyed a long and successful career as journalist, editor and broadcaster. He was a stalwart in the outdoor media landscape, loved and respected by everyone and a friend to all, including me.
The news of his death was not unexpected. Larry had suffered from an aggressive cancer that had not responded to treatment. But he had been active and hosting his longrunning and award-winning radio program, Outdoors with Larry Rea, only weeks before he fell ill. He was 82.
Social media soon began to fill with praise, compliments, condolences and fond remembrances of Larry, each one heartfelt and warranted. I scanned a few of the
comments, then sat the phone down and took a seat beside my wife.
“What is it?” Katy asked.
“Larry died.”
The room fell silent. Katy squeezed my hand then said, softly, as though almost speaking to herself: “Larry helped us more than anyone.”
I was a back-to-schooler, and— after a spotty academic career—had finally, in my 30s, secured a bachelor’s degree from what was then called Memphis State University. I was married, the father of twin toddlers, and looking for work. I’d sent dozens of letters and made numerous calls. I had found work with a local business magazine, but the job didn’t last. The editorial business can be rewarding. It also can be strangling.
One afternoon during a low point, the phone rang. My wife was at work. I was at home with the twins trying to finish a story for a regional fishing magazine. The caller asked for Gary Garth
“This is he,” I said.
“This is Larry Rea at The Commercial Appeal.”
My heart nearly stopped. Outdoors Editor Larry Rea. From The Commercial Appeal. Calling me?!
A few years earlier, while trying to break into the outdoor writing business, I had written to Henry Reynolds, who was then the nationally renowned outdoors editor for The Commercial Appeal. I heard nothing from Mr. Reynolds, and he subsequently retired after holding the job for 32 years. Larry, who had been the newspaper’s prep editor for nearly 20 years, moved into the coveted role as outdoors editor. I knew Larry’s work and byline, of course. But we had never met.
Mr. Reynolds, I later learned, had kept my letter and clips (he apparently kept everything). Larry found the materials, and something caught his attention. I don’t remember the details of our conversation except that I addressed him as Mr. Rea, and he told me to call him Larry. He asked me to stop by his office.
The big Commercial Appeal building on Union Avenue nearly overpowered me. I wasn’t used to newsrooms in multi-story buildings with security checkpoints at the double-door entrance. The polite but all-business security officer said he would have to buzz upstairs and check with Mr. Rea. I waited patiently but also was more than a little anxious.
It was early afternoon. The newsroom was nearly empty. Larry’s desk was in the back, on the right next to a wall, cluttered with the chaos of paperwork that once littered every newsroom. He stood, and we shook hands. He was trim and fit, a small-statured man, neatly dressed. We chatted, businesslike but friendly. Larry put you at ease, one of the many traits that helped make him a fine
Larry Rea with a big catch. Photo courtesy of Rob Simbeck.
reporter. I left with an assignment. A regular assignment. Not full time. Not really part time. It was more than that. I left with the chance I had been waiting for, hoping for, praying for. Larry became a mentor and teacher. He expected the best and accepted no less from himself. And I soon learned that when Larry Rea is listed as an editorial reference, your calls are returned.
We became friends and stayed in touch, occasionally fishing or hunting together. At Larry’s invitation, we hunted doves in Mexico and fished for trout in Arkansas and caught bluegills in Tennessee. In 2001, he retired from The Commercial Appeal (although his work still appeared in the CA occasionally) and soon launched a two-decades-long radio career. For several years, he hosted a media event out of Gaston’s White River Resort (gastons.com). Invitations were
coveted. At one of the last Gaston gatherings, we were in neighboring cabins. Larry’s wife, Miriam, a wonderful lady and a fine angler, frequently traveled with Larry, and they were together on this trip. Our last evening together, he told me something I will not share here but remains a rich, valued memory. We fished together the next day. Miriam, to no one’s surprise, out-fished us both.
Larry Rea was a man of rock-solid Christian faith. I share the faith but not like Larry. He was unshakeable. I do believe that God’s Hand sometimes puts certain people in your path. I’m glad He put Larry in mine.
• • •
A few years ago, a writer friend in Shepherdsville called me. He was thinking about launching an outdoors radio program and asked if I thought
Larry Rea might have some advice, maybe some ideas on how best to get started. My friend knew Larry by reputation and from his work, but they had not met. I could hear intimidation in his voice.
“I think Larry would be happy to talk to you,” I said. “I’m sure he would.”
“Thanks,” he said. There was a moment of hesitancy. “You … uh, you know Larry pretty well, don’t you.” It was a statement. Not a question. “What’s he like?”
The question irritated me, although I don’t know why. What’s he like? I thought. He’s like this:
“You know how everyone always says, ‘Call me if I can help?’ ” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Well, Larry means it.”
Readers may contact Gary Garth at editor@kentuckymonthly.com
Everywhere a Sign
Kentucky Monthly is about Kentucky. So, why am I writing about a Cincinnati museum? I’ll get around to that soon enough.
First off, the American Sign Museum is a gem. Dedicated to 125 years of signage, it preserves a slice of our history we’ve all seen but few have considered. Its founder and curator, Tod Swormstedt, is a sign expert. For 26 years, Swormstedt was on the staff of Signs of the Times, a trade publication of the sign industry created in 1906 by his great-grandparents.
What began in 1999 as a “midlife crisis project” has grown exponentially to fill what was once known as the Oesterlein Machine Company-Fashion Frocks Inc. Complex, an industrial property in the Camp Washington neighborhood near the former Crosley Field, the longtime home of the Cincinnati Reds.
STEPHEN M. VEST Publisher + Editor-in-Chief
Chicken sign, a neon Emmanuel Baptist Church sign that Swormstedt bought from Joe Ley Antiques in Louisville, and a neon Hudepohl sign from the once-legendary City Hall Café in Dayton, Kentucky.
Since 2012, museum attendance has quadrupled, and with a $5.5 million expansion, it includes a Main Street Experience, a theater, classrooms and meeting spaces, making it the country’s largest and most diverse sign museum—5 miles north of the Kentucky state line.
Yes, it’s in Cincinnati, Ohio, located at 1330 Monmouth Avenue. It also houses Neonworks, a full-time shop that creates and repairs neon signs.
When Mike Conway, one of the museum’s board members, called to request a feature, I quickly responded with our geographical limitations. “But,” he said, “you don’t understand. We have Kentucky signs”—including an early
As we chatted, I learned that Conway, a fellow member of the Louisville-headquartered National Society Sons of the American Revolution, lives in Park Hills, a Fort Wright suburb. He grew up in Carrollton, graduated from Eastern Kentucky University, and has spent most of his professional career in the hospitality industry.
“We have an early Jerry’s sign,” Conway said, which led to a discussion of the chain’s history, which began in Frankfort (or Shelbyville) as the White Tavern by Jerry Lederer and is known for the iconic Big Boy statues. In 1946, Warren W. Rosenthal, a University of Kentucky student, rented a room from Lederer in Lexington, joined the Jerry’s company, and eventually grew it into Jerrico Inc., which also developed and owned Long John Silver’s.
Today, the only remaining Jerry’s is on Main Street in Paris.
Jerry’s history led us to Frisch’s, which once dominated the region, including a downtown Covington location and one in Cincinnati’s Carew Tower.
Kentucky Fried
“We still have one in Frankfort,” I said. “I have a picture of each of my kids and Big Boy.”
“You know,” Conway said, “We [the museum] have a Big Boy,” which inspired Conway to share a story of a friend of a friend of a friend of one of his Beta Theta Pi fraternity brothers, who thought it would be funny to kidnap a Big Boy during his days at EKU. “He took it, but returned it, I believe.”
This sparked my memory of a time when several of my Kappa Sig brothers decided it would be a good idea to “borrow” a Holiday Inn sign to display next to our
backyard swimming pool. “Not a big Holiday Inn sign, like y’all have at the museum. There was once a small one, maybe 6 or 7 feet tall, in Elizabethtown. One night, in the middle of the winter, we drove down I-65 to get it. Once we got there, we thought better of it and drove back home.”
“When was that?” Conway asked.
“I’m guessing 1982 or ’83.”
“You know, they started phasing out the ‘Great Sign’ in 1982,” Conway said. “Most were scrapped. The one we have at the museum is one of the few remaining.”
“Wow, if I had known they were doing away with them, we might have gone through with our diabolical plot,” I said. “We could have claimed it as a preservation project and gotten philanthropy points.
“Did you say the small sign was in E-town?”
“Yes, it stood out by Highway 62, just off the exit, probably 200 yards from the hotel.”
“I have that sign,” Conway said.
“My sign?”
“Yes, your sign,” which is what sparked my visit to the American Sign Museum.
Learn more at americansignmuseum.org.
Steve Vest can be contacted at steve@kentuckymonthly.com
Jerry Garcia: A Bluegrass Journey
Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame, Owensboro, through March 28, 270.926.7891
Blippi: Join the Band Tour
Lexington Opera House, Lexington, 859.233.3535
Veterans Day
Fall Floral Design
Madisonville Community College, Madisonville, 270.821.2250
Ninja Kidz: Infinite Possibilities
Louisville Palace, 800.745.3000
Photographing Western Kentucky Museum, Bowling Green, through Dec. 20, 270.745.2592
’Twas a Girls Night Before Christmas Kentucky Center for the Arts, Louisville, 502.584.7777 Self and Others Japanese Photography, UK Art Museum, Lexington, through Dec. 20, 859.257.5716
Addams Family: The Musical Stained Glass Theatre, Newport, through Nov. 23, 859.652.3849
George Graham Vest
With speaker Steve Vest, McCracken County Public Library, Paducah, 270.442.2510
The Jinkx & DeLa Holiday Show
Kentucky Center for the Arts, Louisville, 502.584.7777 A Christmas Carol: The Musical Lexington Opera House, Lexington, 859.233.3535
Square Dance
Hindman Settlement School, Hindman, 606.785.5475
ColorFest
Bernheim Forest and Arboretum, Louisville, through Nov. 2, 502.690.9000
