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. 

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.

Boy what a store!

I love garage sales and looking through other people's prized possessions, so I was absolutely blown away when I went to the Country Boy Store last Friday. Just south of Hopkinsville, the huts may appear slightly shabby, but they house enough gadgets and gizmos to keep any guy busy for quite a while.

Although I was there to shop for my mom, I know my Dad and brother would love this store. The camping/fishing/hiking/hunting accessory possibilities were endless! You could find practically anything you wanted in camo, and it took at lot of self-restraint for me to not try on some of the Army helmets or the gas mask fellow staff writer Ben Joubert found down one of the aisles.

But, hands down, the things that caught my eye the moment I walked in the door were the guns. Sure, I'd seen hunting rifles before. The shotguns were nothing new. It was the guns that looked like they were straight out of Rambo that surprised me. One was absolutely massive, looked like it could put a hole in pretty much anything and was just hanging right next to the door. Another was on the floor in the back of the store, and looked to be about as long as I am tall.

Not surprisingly, the four young men who came to the store while I was there were equally as excited about the find. They thought the weapon hanging by the door might work though, and hinted at trying it out, something store-owner Gant Golladay didn't seem too thrilled about. He said not to stress or detail the guns he had at the store in my story because he has thieves come by all the time and try to take the weapons. Even though he has a security system that beeps ominously every few minutes, the remote store is still susceptible to burglary.

Gant said if a thief wants to get in, he or she will find a way to make it happen. Still, he didn't seem like the type of person who would great an intruder with tea and cookies.

A few other notes I remember from my afternoon at the store: 

-I thought for sure that I was going to knock something over, resulting in everything cascading on top of me and possibly injuring everyone in the store. The casual lack-of-classification for where to find things added to the atmosphere of the store, though.

 -Conservatively, I would put the number of old toilets on the property at 25. I found them in one of the other sheds and all over the back yard in different degrees of disrepair. Not sure if there's a huge market for used toilets...

-The store's cash register could be the coolest thing I've ever seen. Gant couldn't remember how long it had been in use at the store, but there was nothing computerized about it. It seemed to have grown into the counter itself, not easily distinguishable from the next item for sale. The small calculator entered accepted my total for the hanging basket item that I bought, and sent a signal through wires that hung from the ceiling and ran to the wall a few feet behind the counter. After a second, another hidden draw gave a little ding and opened. I may be easily entertained, but I love homemade anythings and these seemed like a fine example.

My mom Helen displaying her new hanging thing

-Hundreds of little pieces of farm equipment and other antiques were pinned to the walls of the store. Gant said when one of the original owners got an item he didn't think would sell, he would nail it to the wall. Now, Gant is confident some of the old items are worth a pretty penny. 

-My mom was kind enough to act like she enjoyed the hanging thing that I got her. After debating between the basket and a plug-in water fountain contraption, I decided it was a safer bet the basket would stay operational a little bit longer.

Thanks for your continued interest in and support of my bucket list column. Keep sending your comments, questions or complaints to dboucher@kentuckynewera.com or post them to the blog. Look for a different perspective on the Country Boy Store in tomorrow's post.

Rodeo round-up

Overall I had a great time at the rodeo; it was a humbling experience, but one I will definitely remember fondly in years to come. There are a few things that stuck with me from the event that did not make it into the column, a scenario I've found myself in when writing all of my bucket list stories.

So, on the day my column runs in the New Era, I'll be posting additional tidbits here in the blog.

I'm in the green shirt, trying to act like I've done this before.

I cannot emphasize how weird it was for me to feel my horse Rob Roy inhaling and exhaling: the expansion and shrinking of the rib cage creates a really odd feeling of not being in control, for me anyway. I can generally pick things up pretty quickly, but I had a tough time really feeling comfortable with the horse and the subtle ques needed to come to a mutual understanding. Vanessa Madison, one of the rodeo orchestrators and my guide for the night, told me the more I relaxed I was on the horse, the more the horse would relax and the easier it would be for both of us. Apparently I had a tough time relaxing, because neither of us really seemed all that comfortable.

Apart from my lack of control, it was particularly humbling to see little kids riding by on massive horses. Some of these kids could not have been older than 8 or 9 years old, their legs jutting out at extreme angles because they were too short to fold around the horse's side. And yet they trotted by on their steads with easy, obviously happy as a clam. I've never been in a situation where little kids were able to do something better than me; this could be one of the first signs that I'm starting to get old.

Other tidbits that stood out to me:

• Some of the cowboys used lassos that didn't appear to be made of rope or the typical dusty brown color expected, but rather a cord-material sometimes made with loud colors, including neon green, yellow and pink. New Era photographer Dana Long and I decided maybe the colorful lassos could be easier to see after the cowboy makes his or her throw. 
• Thanks to Dana Long for photographing the event, coming through with awesome rodeo art, including the photo in this post. 
• The smell of a rodeo is immediately evident and similar to that of a barn, but it faded away pretty quickly. 
• One of the rodeo judges, Jeff, told me he'd been involved with rodeos for 16 or 17 years. He said although it's fun, it can get a little repetitive. He used to ride in the events, but preferred the guaranteed paycheck that came with being a judge.
• Mike Gibbs, the cowboy who helped me during my ride, competed in the team calf roping event. He said he belonged to the International Professional Rodeo Association, as did most of the other participants. The organization keeps a calendar of rodeos, and riders need to sign up with the local rodeo organizers in order to participate. 

Thanks for your continued interest in the column, please let me know if you have any ideas, questions or criticism. Feel free to post your comments on this site, and click on the info box on the home page of the blog to subscribe to future posts.