Riding through Hopkinsville History

I had the opportunity to experience the 27th Annual Night Riders tour of Hopkinsville this weekend, and came away with mixed feelings.

William Turner (right)  is a wonderful story-teller

I think it's very important for people to learn the history of their hometown or place they're currently living. And I am happy the event serves as a fundraiser for the Pennyroyal Museum. However, I think the atmosphere created during the event trivializes and romanticizes what took place Dec. 7, 1907.

Why do we need to see men and women donning black masks and firing guns for history to truly sink in? Yes, I agree, it can be extremely entertaining. But, is it OK to clap for the re-enactors as they depict I wife laying on top of her husband in the street to stop him getting beaten by a whip?

The very tone of the tour lends only the slightest hint that what the Night Riders did is questionable at best; there were times when historians William Turner and Chris Gilkey made half-hearted disclaimers about the riders escaping justice, or the mean wrecking the crops of their neighbors who sold to the man with the monopoly.  Each one, though, was predicated on the idea that the Night Riders did what they had to do because their backs were up against the wall, and they had food to provide for their families.

A re-enactor sits on his horse

First, I think boiling the conflict down to "providing food for their families" is unfair. Yes, I realize their is more money to be made from your product when the man you're selling it to is selling it for almost 50 times what you sold it to him. However, does that give you the right to fire-bomb his business? Or shoot-up the newspaper building because the editor condemned riders when they wrecked crops and intimidated other farmers?

I fear another comparison I made in the printed article is going to be taken at face value; in the story, I ask several people if they think modern drug dealers face the same situation as the Night Riders. First, let me be clear: NO, I do NOT think it's OK to sell drugs. 

Let me write that one more time so it can sink in: it is NOT OK to sell drugs.

A re-enactor protects her husband

But, if it's alright for historians to tell people not to judge the actions of farmers who did what they thought they had to do in order to provide for their families, how is it unfair to make the same comparison to someone who feels they need to sell dope to feed their own family?

Yes, I think there are other options people could turn to today, and I understand social systems have evolved between now and 1907. However, to simply justify the actions of a mass mob because they thought they had no other options is both far too simple and frankly a disservice to the listeners and the farmers themselves. 

In 2010, more than one-third of the households made less than $25,00 in Christian County. I am sure the economic situations were strenuous to the farmers in 1907 too, but it's interesting to see similar economic difficulties more than a century later.

Other tidbits I picked up during the tour: 

• William Turner and Chris Gilkey can certainly tell a story. I know why they crafted the event to run as it does, but it just doesn't sit well with me.
• I'm not a big fan of Civil War re-enactments either, and the tour created the same feeling for me.
• I don't understand the appeal of handing out spent shell-casings to children so they can take them home as souvenirs, but it seemed like the popular thing to do. 
• As part of the reenactment, one of the participants blew into the end of a rifle to show the warning sound the Riders had for one another to regroup. I had never heard the sound before, but it resembles the sound of a deer or an elk call. Also would take a braver man than me to blow into the end of a rifle; I saw the gun was obviously not loaded, but still...
• I did enjoy how many people came out, and the little historical asides provided by Turner and Gilkey. True, a story about Ferrell's and other interesting tidbits in Hopkinsville may not strictly apply to the Night Riders tale, but they're fun, interesting and helped to lighten the mood for me, anyway. 
• We were ferried around on two semi-trucks, and I have a entirely new found respect for those drivers. They were tasked with pulling the trucks next to one another while avoiding the cars and horses filling the narrow downtown streets. There were quite a few times when I thought they'd hit something for sure, only to miss the object by inches. 
• Thanks to Ben Joubert for the pictures. He had to hop on and off the semis before they took off, it required a fair amount of athletic ability. Well done, sir. 

Thanks for the continued comments and suggestions, I appreciate it! Feel free to add comments here, email me at dboucher@kentuckynewera.com or call me at 270-887-3262. 

Bluegrass legends bid farewell?

In a story that ran in the Monday print edition of the New Era, officials from the International Bluegrass Hall of Fame in Owensboro said this year's celebration could be the last of its kind (I've included the link here to the Associated Press story that ran in the Houston Chronicle, but the original story came from the Owensboro Messenger-Inquirer.)

Ginger Boatwright, a Bluegrass legend, is 67 years old.

In the story, it laments the rapid aging of the inaugural Bluegrass generation; in fact, Earl Scruggs is the only member of the classic Blue Grass Boys band -- made popular by the father of Bluegrass, Bill Monroe -- still living.

Unfortunately I did not get to hear Scruggs play when I attended the event, but I heard he had quite a crowd. Needless to say, I did not realize the monumental occasion I had the privilege to be a part of during my short time at the festival, but looking back, I've come to a realization: almost to a person, the attendees at the event were slightly old.

"Slightly" is probably not the most descriptive adjective to use to describe the age of the participants, but it could be the kindest, so let's run with it. I noticed a few children, but by and large, most attendees at the event could have passed for somebody's grandparents.

Is this merely a sign that the fans are growing older along with the stars they've cherished for years, or a bigger, more threatening shift for Bluegrass music? With the original guard dwindling in size, will those interested in the genre decrease proportionally?

Roy Chapman, Pike County, has played for almost 40 years

I'd like to think this won't be the case, that new fans will continue to surface everyday. And maybe they will; two of the people I met at the fair, the men who roadtripped 16-hours from Connecticut to see Scruggs play, were definitely some of the youngest in the crowd. Personally, the music is growing on me and I wouldn't be surprised to find myself at a Bluegrass festival or two in the near future.

Nationally--and realistically--though, I think the hill facing those trying to promote Bluegrass music only continues to steepen. At the time it was created, it was obviously a new sound, promoted amongst fans already accustomed to country music but ready for a new twist. Today, as depressing as it may be, the speed and expertise of a skilled banjo or mandolin player just doesn't grab the attention of most young people they way a synthesizer and teen-angst lyrics can.

Not too many children took in the Doug Dillard concert

Bluegrass has never truly competed with pop or rock music for the majority of American listeners, and I don't think it was created with that intention in mind. However, through my limited research into the genre, I've learned that the people who gravitate to the music are what make it special.

With many of the genre stalwarts passing on though, will the remaining members of Bluegrass be able to attract and cultivate the following and culture that make the current combination of banjo, mandolin and guitar so special?

Thanks for your continued support of and comments about my column. Tomorrow we'll take a look at some of the recent response I've received concerning the bucket list.

The sound of Kentucky

Doug Dillard greeted me kindly after his show

I have a guitar, and I try and strum a note or two every now and then. I've had no real training--except reluctant, quick lessons from my slightly more talented brother--but after practicing for a while I'll get the wild notion that I can actually play the instrument.

After watching some of the musicians at the celebration for Bill Monroe at the International Bluegrass Hall of Fame in Owensboro, though, it's confirmed: I'm abysmal, and they're absolutely fantastic.


My extremely limited musical ability has allowed me to respect truly blessed musicians, regardless of the genre. Before the event, I had never really listened to a great of Bluegrass, or had the urge to. However, watching Doug Dillard and his compatriots fly through songs with such skill made me appreciate the music as so much more than its the traditional, simple genre it is touted to be.

I realize the song content, at least the ones I've heard, is fairly similar to themes prevalent in country music, another genre people tend to view as a little backward. But really, the ability this musicians  showed, to adeptly play with one another while maintaining their own style at an impressive frantic pace, gave me a new respect for the music.


Getting to see Doug Dillard was interesting; my parents were always fans of 'The Andy Griffith Show,' and my dad was pretty excited when he heard I got to see one of the stars of The Darlings play. While he was most certainly talented though, I was equally impressed with his bandmates. Although the band he runs with know is known as The Doug Dillard Band, the person who seems to lead the group and sings the majority of the sings is Ginger Boatwright. The self-proclaimed queen of bluegrass, she was cracking jokes and interacting with the crowd for the entire show.

Roger Rasnake also played guitar, with Steve Cooley on mandolin and Buddy Griffin on bass. Cooley was nuts on the mandolin; I had never really been exposed to mandolin music before, but it appears to take an exceptional amount of focus and hand-eye coordination to excel on the instrument.

Other notes from the hall of fame:

• I was a little bummed about the timing of the festival: Monday through Wednesday, mostly taking place during the day. I understand that perhaps it was the best time to get everyone in the same spot, but I'm confident the event would have had a much higher turnout if they had planned the celebration for a weekend.
• The museum itself was interesting despite its relatively small size. I've never been to any other music hall of fame, and I know the hall and museum have only been around for about 15 years, but I had managed to go through the exhibit twice in about 20 minutes. Seemed like there would be more.
• I would have absolutely loved to buy a Bluegrass CD or two while I was there, but they cost was generally between $25-30 for any collection. I don't blame the museum for trying to make a profit, and obviously those who tend to come to the museum are a little more invested in the music than me, but I found multiple Bill Monroe CDs online for less than $10. 
• I'd love to learn to play the banjo or mandolin; no real practical reason, but they seem to pretty entertaining instruments.
• Found a quotation from Bill Monroe at the museum that I really loved: "Bluegrass has brought more people together and made more friends than any music in the world." By the congenial air I found everywhere at the festival, I can see where Monroe was coming from.
• The first video on the blog shows Doug Dillard playing banjo in my favorite Bluegrass song, Dooley, on "The Andy Griffith Show." The next video is of Dillard, again on banjo, and The Darlings playing a song called "There is a time." 

Thanks again for your continued support of the column. Although I attended the festival by myself, I'll provide more information about the event and the style in tomorrow's post.

Dressing for the dance

New Era Copy Editor Monica K. Smith attended the powwow as well, and discusses what she learned from the regalia at the event.

Monica eventually found some feathers

If I had never learned anything from watching Project Runway, I was definitely getting an education in Hopkinsville this weekend: Feathers, for those who don't know, are in.

At least that was the lesson I received Saturday night at the 24th Annual International Powwow. Sure, I've seen a few girls with color-corrected hair attach feathers to their own heads for additional flair;  however, this was something all-together new. Feathers of all colors, types and textures flocked around the grounds, sending my optical senses into overdrive. They were standing tall on head pieces, fluttering on robes, flowing on jewelry, and a few exceptionally decorated individuals paraded with feathers collected together to create the semblance of wings (who doesn't need wings?!? I could use two sets!).

Oh I was jealous. There I was in jeans and a tank top. No accessories. No flair. No feathers.

Monica is a little afraid of what she's holding

Watching them moving through the crowd was inspiring enough - then came the drums.

The rhythms filled the powwow as individuals competed in a dance competition, their movements causing their feathers to flutter in the air. As I watched I learned that the way an individual was dressed indicated what type of dance was expected of the dancer. It was explained to me that the construction of the outfits is begun at a young age, and the regalia is steadily worked on as the individual grows, creating a wearable tapestry representing a part of that person's life. I came to realize that the outfits each person wore were chosen for a specific purpose - each feather attached for a reason.

Those who judged the dancers were knowledgeable on various clothing styles and what a particular style would equate to on the dance floor – err … ground. So, dancers were thus graded not only on their ability to dance well, but their ability to best represent their outer appearance.

Monica appreciated the meticulous care needed to create the regalia

As I watched them dance, greatly coveting their eagle feathers, I realized I'm just as meticulous in what I wear. Each top is debated, set of earrings pondered, "do I wear a scarf or a sweater?" I started to wonder what my outer appearance indicated of me - and if my dance matched. 

Thanks Monica for the article and the awesome photos! Look for hints at my next bucket list location, and reaction to the last column, later this week! 

More than a song and dance

I had the privilege of attending the powwow in Hopkinsville this weekend, and I was thoroughly impressed with the entire affair. Although I didn't meet any local dancers, I'm sure at least one or two of the participants in the two-day event hailed from some place local, and I'm fairly certain most of the attendees were from the area.

These guys were awesome, and played all day long

While the dancing was amazing and the regalia--the outfits people wore, not to be confused with or referred to as costumes-- I could not get over the intensity and ability of the musicians. While, for the most part, they only used their voices and one large communal drum, I thought the music was vibrant, unique and had a great deal of depth. I have absolutely no idea what they were singing about, but I know that I would never have guessed the men encircling the drum could have made those songs with their voices alone.

Some may have described the voices as shrill or tribal, but I thought they had a beautiful ability to cover a wide range of notes, moving through different octaves while harmonizing very effectively. There were two bands who, not only alternated songs but also rotated through a variety of different group members. The changes happened seamlessly though, which helped create a more familial atmosphere for me; although I'm not positive, the ability for all of the different musicians to play the same songs together gave the impression that everyone grew up watching their dads, grandpas and other family members seeing the songs. (I only saw men playing the drum and singing the song. I'm not positive on this point either, but I doubt this was a coincidence.)

Other moments from the powwow that stuck with me:

 I love the way the sky and his regalia look in color

• I've had frybread in the past, but I had the good fortune to enjoy more of the dish on Saturday. When I've tried it, is has resembled something like an elephant ear/funnel cake, but of a slightly thicker consistency. I know you can enjoy it as more of a main meal as well though, turning out something lie an open-faced taco. Mine was drizzled in honey, and it was delectable.
• The weather seemed to add some character to the event. As I arrived on Saturday, a double rainbow was clearly visible in southern Hopkinsville, and the sun and clouds seemed to participate in a dance of their own throughout the evening. The dancers didn't let a slight rain deter them from letting lose; on Sunday though, some lightning seemed to give some pause. During the golden age women's division, as the elderly women were participating in a cloud dance, a massive clap of thunder followed a flash of lightning. After the dance was complete, the announcer joked all of the ladies had added a new move to their repertoire: a five-foot jump straight up, which seemed to directly coincide with that thunder. 
• The announcer was hilarious. You could tell he had emceed similar events in the past, but he was having a great time and genuinely added to the experience while maintaining the pace of the dances. 
• It's always fun for me to see someone truly committed to something that I don't really understand. The dancers seemed to relish in the environment, moving freely without any apparent signs of embarrassment or resignation.  

Thanks as always for your interest in the column and blog, please continue to send your comments and suggestions my way. Tomorrow look for a different take on the event from New Era Copy Editor Monica K. Smith. She also shot the two photos on the blog today, so much thanks for her help. 
 

Mailbag

I had several emails, phone calls and personal interactions concerning the Country Boy Store column, previous columns and ideas for future visits. We'll start with the constructive criticism:

Tim Killebrew (I'm sorry if this name spelling is incorrect, but Mr. Killebrew did not leave a phone number at which to contact him in my message, which was transferred to me from a different New Era phone) told me that I should have mentioned the real location of the store. Although I did say the store was between Gracey and Herndon, he said I should have mentioned that the store is actually in Newstead.

While I did mention that the store is several hundred feet from the former Newstead train depot, Mr. Killebrew is quite right, I did not mention specifically that the store is in Newstead. My apologies.

I received an email from Susan Perdue Hughes, saying she enjoyed the goat island story I had a few weeks ago and wanted to know how to find the island. She asked for vehicle or boat directions, and had trouble locating it on her Lake Barkley State Resort Park map.

Ms. Hughes, I had trouble finding the island as well. However, I did have a simple map from the park office that showed goat island. It's approximately two or three miles from the park lodge, to the right of the lodge if you are looking out at the lake from the balcony. It won't be the first island you come across, but it will be the biggest. Even once I found it though, I really wasn't certain it was the island until I actually saw a goat.

Lastly, I had an email from Nora Spinaio that said she enjoyed the country boy column, but wondered if my Mom liked her present or knew what it was. This letter came before my Mom's response in the blog yesterday, but I'll summarize: yes, she did enjoy the gift, but we're both still trying to figure out exactly what it is or how she's going to use it!

Ms. Spinaio also suggested I visit the Lighthouse of Crofton Assembly of God. She said it's one of those little churches found all over the south, and the fellowship hall is almost finished being repaired.

I had never heard of the church before your suggestion, Ms. Spinaio, but I will ask around, look into and who knows, maybe it will be in a column in the not-too-distant future.

Thanks again to everyone who sends emails, calls in or speaks with me personally about my columns. I really appreciate and value any and all feedback!

Tomorrow I'll give a preview of some future column sites, and give a hint as to where I'll be for this coming Monday's column.

Dave's mom responds to her gift from the Country Boy Store

Mom was happy not to get a battle ax

Helen Boucher, mother of Staff Writer Dave Boucher, responds to her gift and the column Dave wrote about the experience. 

The Country Boy Stores column was, in itself, a gift for me, as is every article David writes. He pours his heart and soul into each piece and in reading his articles, it’s like sharing a part of his everyday life. I could feel the horse breathing underneath me when Dave wrote about his rodeo experience. I laughed when Dave didn’t know how to steer the boat that he used to get to Goat Island. I was stumbling through the crowded Country Boy Store with him when he went in search of a birthday gift for me! I love to read what David writes because it means he’s right here with me in Michigan and not so far away.

The poem that Dave wrote for his Dad and me was absolutely the best! I wish I could have been with my husband when he read the poem. He’s a pretty tough guy but I know it made him teary-eyed. I just unabashedly cried when I read it.

As far as the “hanging basket thing” goes, I love it! And I’m thankful it’s not a battle ax or a camo jacket!

Thanks Mom for the nice letter! I'll post and respond to more of some of my recent feedback to the column on the blog tomorrow.