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.

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. 
 

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.

Mailbag

Each week I'll share some of the responses, positive and negative, that I get from my columns

It was a rather slow week as far as responses to the column go. Although I did speak with several people who shared some of their horse ridding memories with me, I only received one email specifically related to my rodeo experience. It comes from a man named Wiley, and I happen to agree with him.

After asking whether I was related to some Bouchers who owned a real hardware store in the Nashville area in the 1950s (as far as I know I'm not, by the way. I think my Bouchers came from Canada, but I'm always down for meeting/creating new relatives) he had his own opinion about my clothing:

"If you were wearing a wool shirt in Kentucky in August you are tougher than I am." 

Well thank you, sir. Although it had less to do with toughness and more to do with trying to look the part of a cowboy--which I'm fairly certain I failed anyway, thanks to not having a cowboy hat--I appreciate your sentiment. I've already passed it along to staff photographer Dana Long, who felt it was not a sign of toughness as much as a sign of stupidity. 

I prefer your interpretation.

I did receive several other emails from people suggesting sites and events that need to be featured in future columns. One came from local media veteran Jim Love, who suggested I look into two stories: one dealing with an interesting local twist on the tale of Noah's arc, the other a local tie to a car accident involving Gen. George Patton. Both seem fairly entertaining, if not entirely factual, and I'm excited to do a little digging. 

I also received a suggestion from a man named Ben, who said he lives in Cadiz. He suggested I visit a famous civil war site located in western Kentucky, and provided part of the history for that site. I agree Ben, that would be a great place to visit; while others have mentioned the site in the past, no one has provided pictures to bolster their pitch. I'm convinced it's a great idea, and it will definitely make an appearance in an article in the near future.

Thanks again to everyone who sent me responses; good, bad, neutral or nasty, I appreciate any and all feedback.

For tomorrow's blog post, I want to hear about your favorite rodeo experiences. What's your favorite event? How did this year's rodeo compare to others in the past? Would you ever ride a bull?

Send your stories and pictures to me, either by posting to the blog or through email at dboucher@kentuckynewera.com.

A different perspective

Staff Photographer Dana Long offers her perspective on what she feels are my odd dressing habits. 

So far, getting Dave to do silly things in order to learn about western Kentucky life has been pretty easy. Getting him to do the smart thing is a little trickier.

Lucky that late-afternoon clouds blocked out the sun, Dave sports a long-sleeved shirt at the Kelly Green Men Days.

When he arrived at the rodeo, some participants were surprised to see him wearing a long-sleeved wool shirt — certainly atypical attire for a Kentucky August, but nothing that surprised me. 

Earlier in the day, he showed up at the Kelly Green Men Days — with temperatures in the 90s — in a different long-sleeved shirt. 

During the Western Kentucky State Fair’s demolition derby (again, with temperatures hot enough to make Satan sweat), he casually meandered into the fairgrounds wearing a long-sleeved shirt under a sweater.

Seriously, Dave?

Now most of us Kentuckians can understand wearing long sleeves and pants in the summer to ward off sunburn and perpetual attacks by ticks, mosquitoes and other creepy-crawly blood suckers, but we obviously have more sense than Dave and don’t venture out into the summer sauna wearing a layer of wool. Such antics get him hours of teasing in the newsroom and should create a new item on his bucket list: dressing appropriately for the weather.

Wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a sweater during an intense summer heat wave, Dave takes his teasing from New Era photographer Dana Long and Webmaster John Godsey like a champ.

What’s next Dave, flannel in a tobacco patch? 

Fortunately for us, he takes his teasing in stride. But when winter’s chill settles in and the first sight of a snowflake prompts bread and milk shortages at local grocery stores, school closings and the reminder that most Kentuckians got their driver’s licenses out of Cracker Jack boxes, that Yankee will surely wonder why such a minor snowfall throws a major wrench in our lives. 

He’ll get his revenge. After we get back from the grocery store.