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Rube Fields And His Gift

On By Ginger Karrick KincaidIn Uncategorized4 Comments

Rube Fields, circa unknown.
From the January 12, 1899 issue of the Owingsville Outlook.
Note the fourth paragraph about Rube Fields.
 The third paragraph is interesting too!

Many of you have heard of Rube Fields already, but I hope the excerpt below brings a personal element to his story that might be missing otherwise.  My father-in-law spoke of Mr. Fields often, always with a sense of amazement and respect, never with any hint of derision.  There is a lesson in that for all of us. 
Small town living can be hard and it can even be brutal to those who march to a different drummer, but it has long been my opinion that one thing small towns do best is to take care of those among us who may have what we now call “special needs.” I know this is true of our Bath County towns because I have witnessed it hundreds of times in many different ways.  ~Ginger
From the journals:
“I can’t accept money for taking inventory of your store goods because God might take away my gift.” So spoke one of the most unusual persons that ever lived.  This man was born and reared in Bath County and later made occasional trips to Missouri.  Rube Fields has been a legend in Bath County since the time he became an adult.
Rube grew up in the White Oak community.  A multitude of the stories told about this interesting man were true.  There are many skeptics who do not believe Rube could have worked such magic.  If Mr. Fields lived today, he would probably be referred to as a “walking computer.”  Certainly it was uncanny how he could give you the exact time of day without looking at a watch.   Some fellas were not too sure if Rube could tell time by a watch.  It is a fact, though, that he could – if he would – give you the correct time at any time, without looking at one.  Boys, having heard of his power, would slip up on Rube and ask for the time.  Rube would respond, “It’s time you were at home getting in your mother’s firewood.”  Time telling was only a small part of his gift
Mathematical problems and the solving of them seemed to be the greatest gift that this man had.  Rube would not have been able to solve the problem on paper, but would instantaneously give the answer after the problem had been stated.  You might give him a problem such as this:  How many times would a locomotive wheel turn over between Salt Lick and Preston if the circumference of the wheel is 8’4” and the distance by rail between the two points is seven and three miles?  He could respond immediately with the correct answer.
The town council in Owingsville had a large cistern built alongside the old courthouse.* Old cisterns were usually a cylinder which began to taper in toward the top forming a cone, but the cone is chopped off at the top.  The point made here is that not everyone can figure to the gallon what the capacity of such a cistern would be.  The “town fathers” calculated what they believed to be accurate to the gallon and then called in Rube Fields and gave him the dimensions.  Rube unhesitatingly answered and the councilmen informed him that this was one time that he had missed.  Not being satisfied, however, one of the councilmen took the problem to a mathematician (reputedly a college professor of mathematics) and of course Rube had it to the gallon.
Some of the top circuses in the United States tried to no avail to employ Rube but again he stated, “I can’t accept money because God might take my gift away from me.”
Rube loved to go into a cane field and eat and suck on the cane until he had his fill.  He also used soap differently than most.  Rube would rub dry soap on his face until it became red and slick.
Mr. Fields was a large man with a ruddy complexion.  He was well liked but folks often tested him because they wondered about his gift.
Perhaps you wonder about the author’s source of information.  The author’s father knew Rube Fields.  Other fellas also knew this great man with the unbelievable gift.**
It is understood why most people do not believe the exploits of Rube Fields and the author would be one also had his father not known him.  It is thought by some that knew Rube that he died between 1910 and 1912.
For those of you who saw the movie “Rain Man,” Rube was much like the character played by Dustin Hoffman, except that character had some formal education and Rube was illiterate.  The medical term for such gifted persons is “idiot savant.”***
*My father in law notes in the margins of his writing that the cistern is “still to the west of the courthouse near Main Street,” and it is – see the picture below.  You can see the location of several old cisterns on the 1914 maps of Owingsville that we have linked to.   Some of them have since been filled in, and to give you an idea of how big they are, Don says you could fit two cars inside.

**He also notes in the margins that “Mr. Jeff” knew Rube Fields, Mr. Jeff being Jefferson L. Darnell, Don’s grandfather or Mr. Burl’s father-in-law.  I’m sure he heard stories from him as well.

***The term “idiot savant” has fallen out of favor because not all savants have limited intelligence.  “Autistic savant” was used for a while because quite a few (fifty percent) of savants are autistic.  Not all are, of course, so the term “savant syndrome” is now the preferred one.

The cistern that was the focus of Rube Fields’ calculations.

The cistern is right beside the court house
– you’ve probably walked by it or over it countless times. 

          

On Confederate Markers and Ancestors

On By Ginger Karrick KincaidIn UncategorizedLeave a comment
Don Lee Kincaid by his great, great uncle’s burial place in the Owingsville Cemetery.   On the ground in front of Don is a Confederate marker.  T.L. (Thomas) was the brother of Isaac, who was the father of Jefferson Lee Darnell, Don’s grandfather.  The names Jefferson and Lee point to what were at one time the family’s Confederate sympathies. 
 In the South, we learn to make peace with our heritage, and that is not always an easy thing to do.

This week, William Burl Kincaid, III (Bill) makes his blogging debut, sharing his thoughts on the Confederate markers in the Owingsville Cemetery: 


                A few steps east of where our parents are buried in the Owingsville Cemetery stands a statue of a Confederate soldier, six feet tall on a seven-foot base and, of course, facing northward. I sometimes wonder if he ever makes eye contact with the Union soldier facing southward that stands atop a massive war memorial in downtown Indianapolis, where my family and I have lived for the last six years.
                The Owingsville monument has stood sentinel since 1907 and I have looked at it dozens of times. Others have too, I know. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places, so it’s probably garnered a good bit of attention over the years.
                Imagine a bright, warm afternoon in the early part of the twentieth century. A parade forms. School lets out early so girls and boys can join the festivities and, in some cases, participate in them by singing songs and reading essays written for the occasion. The parade stops at the center of town for the unveiling and dedication of the monument.
                As we know from Owingsville, sometimes the monument landed elsewhere, like a cemetery. Or, in the case of Kentucky’s largest Confederate memorial, it stands at what is now one of the primary entrances to the University of Louisville campus.
                I don’t know if a parade or other public events accompanied the dedication of the Confederate soldier in Owingsville, but what I have described occurred in towns and cities across the South when the well funded and extremely well organized Daughters of the Confederacy unveiled their monuments.
                Until a couple of years ago, my impression of the Daughters of the Confederacy was that of a genteel group of tea-sipping, hat-wearing Southern belles who gathered occasionally to enjoy each other’s company and to tell stories of another era.
                The Daughters were interested in telling stories alright, but with a particular angle. (I should say “are interested.” Numerous chapters exist today, including several in northern and western states.) And I’m sure they exuded remarkable grace and charm, but make no mistake about it, they were a force to be reckoned with.
                The Daughters believed that their ancestors’ defeat in the Civil War represented a terrible disgrace. Worse, in their view, was that those same ancestors and most people in the South had been completely discredited and even demeaned in the years subsequent to, as the Daughters would have termed it, the War of Northern Aggression. The Daughters made it their mission to revive and preserve Confederate culture. More so than the men in many cases, the Daughters crafted and promoted the Lost Cause myth through an extensive organization and with various efforts.
                The monuments are probably the best known of those efforts today, but the Daughters also distributed Confederate flags, developed curriculum that promoted Southern values for white children in public schools, provided portraits of Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee to be hung in those schools, built hospitals and nursing homes, and offered scholarships to college-bound Confederate descendants.
                My reading about the Daughters has been both fascinating and troubling, especially as the Daughters attempted to preserve racial discrimination and exclusion even as many people in the country were working tirelessly to improve race relations. In her book Dixie’s Daughters, Karen Cox contends that the Daughters’ efforts set back the acceptance and inclusion of African-Americans in this country by several decades, even to the point of undermining the work of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, a full century after the close of the Civil War.
                When I read that I thought of the African-Americans with whom I went to school, grew up and played ball. I also think of the many African-Americans with whom I now work. And even though I find the Owingsville Cemetery one of the dearest and most peaceful places in the world, it now holds a different kind of sadness than it did before. 
  ~Bill Kincaid


Thomas Darnell’s marker is just one of  many markers placed by the Daughters of the Confederacy in the Owingsville Cemetery.  
We’ll post pictures of the rest of the markers in the future.

 He stands facing north – on eternal lookout for Yankees.

High School and the National Guard (William Owen Karrick Story: Part 3)

On By Ginger Karrick KincaidIn Karrick, Salt Lick, UncategorizedLeave a comment
Salt Lick National Guard, 1927.
Those identified are Captain Corbett Gullett, Corbet Copher, William Karrick,
Jim Fawns, Herndon Dickerson, Hugh Karrick, Clifford Wells,
Roger Karrick, Van Green, Billy Frizzell and Robert Clark. 

 

Salt Lick School, date unknown
 
This week, we continue with our series of excerpts from my great-uncle’s memoirs – hope you’re enjoying them!
From The William Owen Karrick Story:
In the first year of high school our class had nine girls and two boys.  They were Phoebe Seese, Olive Fanning, Rosie Freed, Marjorie Shouse (Marjorie married my brother Travis), Ethel Fawns, Opal Reeves, Sudie Maupin, Sudie Davis, Demory Parsons and me.  Our principal was O.J. Harris.  This professor took us to Lexington and Frankfort on a trip.  We visited Sistrunk, a fruit and vegetable distributor, and the federal prison in Frankfort.  This was a good lesson for those who might go wrong and break the laws.
During my second year in high school, a National Guard was established in Salt Lick, Kentucky.  The commander was Captain Corbett Gullett.  I was only fifteen years old at the time but through the permission of my parents, I joined the Guard.  The rifle company was going to Camp Knox for two weeks in the summertime.  Before the summer the guard had a rifle range where I spent several afternoons shooting at targets with 30/30 rifles.  When camp time came along, I received a preventative typhoid fever shot which caused me to have the fever.  I spent several weeks in bed and missed the Camp Knox trip.  In later years, I made the summer trips.  I was in the Guard for almost three years until it disbanded.  I was rated Corporal.
In the second year of high school, our principal was Mr. Wirick.  During this year, my friend Demory Parsons dropped out of school leaving me the only boy in a class of ten. I wanted to quit school too, so I took all my books home and told my father and mother that I had quit.  “Yeah,” Dad said, “You’ve quit.”
“Yes, “says I, “I’ve quit.
“Yes,” says Dad.  “You’ve quit until in the morning then you will return to school if I have to take a switch to you all the way.  Your mother and I have worked hard to see that all of you children finish high school.”
So back to school I went and am I glad that Dad made me return.  However, I was in the Guard at this time, and I skipped an afternoon class several times, going to the rifle range.  I got an F in that class, lost a credit, and had to go an extra semester in school to make up the work.  I didn’t get to graduate with my regular class of 1929.  I graduated in 1930.  The principal was Mr. Welch.
I entered Morehead State Teacher’s College in the fall and went through the first and second semesters and summer school.  I ended up with thirty-eight college hours and a teacher’s certificate good for two years which I used in teaching in a rural one room school at White Sulpher, Kentucky.  I tried very hard to do justice to the children as all eight grades were in one room.  Looking back, I wonder sometimes if that was possible.  My salary for the 1931-32 school year was $76.50 per month, and for 1932-33 it was $66.50 per month because the county was short of money.  School ended in February – a seven month school year.

 

            And there ends, for the most part, what Uncle Bill wrote regarding his early life in Salt Lick.  I hope you enjoyed his story as much as I did! ~ Ginger

From White Sulpher to Salt Lick (William Owen Karrick Story: Part 1)

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Hugh Karrick, 1845-1925 (my great, great-grandfather)

 

 My (Ginger’s) great-uncle William Owen Karrick wrote about growing up in Salt Lick.  For those of you who don’t know, my grandfather was Hugh Karrick of Salt Lick, and his brothers and sisters included Travis (father of Ann and Nan), Edsel (former principal at Salt Lick), Louticia (who taught school for many years in this county) and Virginia (who was the wife of Dr. Milburn Wheeler of Morehead).  There are others, but those are the names with which many of you will be familiar.  Some of my papaw’s siblings lived their lives away from Bath County.  My Uncle Bill did, but, as you can tell upon reading his words, Salt Lick always held a special place in his heart. 

From The William Owen Karrick Story:
I was born March 7, 1911 at White Sulpher, Bath Co., Kentucky.  My father was James Thomas Karrick and my mother was Mary Warner Karrick.  I was the seventh of twelve children in the Karrick family.  Midwife Kate B. Nickell of Ewing brought me into this world.
I remember several instances in life when I was three years old – such as sitting on my father’s knee while he played the violin, bouncing me up and down.  Several of my uncles were present at Christmas 1914.  They had brought whiskey from Mt. Sterling, Kentucky, but I can’t remember anyone getting drunk other than my oldest brother, Paul.  On one occasion Paul decided to play drunk-man.  He poured and drank a cup of whiskey and ended up very sick, with a promise never to play drunk-man again.
I remember riding on a roof shingle over an embankment in our side yard when the snow was on.
I remember wanting to go with my older brothers to their rabbit boxes down in our orchard.  Of course they didn’t let me go.
I remember well the day that we moved from White Sulpher to Salt Lick.  We were riding in a buggy – a one horse carriage.  I was four years old at the time.  I was seated on the floor board, Mother (holding my sister Gertrude) and Dad were in the buggy seat, and my brother Hugh was standing up behind the buggy seat.  I thought this trip of approximately three miles was a very long journey.  We finally arrived at our new home in the afternoon.  Three of my older brothers had preceded us with two wagons and our furniture – the last two loads.
My grandfather Hugh Karrick and grandmother Leticia Karrick had moved to Salt Lick earlier.  They lived next door to our house.  As soon as I could, I made a mad dash over to Grandmother’s house.    I had visited with my parents when my grandparents lived on a farm at Mudlick before moving to Salt Lick.  I spent many happy days at my grandmother’s house.  She always had plenty of milk and molasses cookies.  The cookies were in a big jar which I could reach.
At the age of six I started to school at Salt Lick.  I had a teacher named Maude Wright.  I remember the first day very well.  I wanted to go to the same room with my brother Hugh but he insisted and I went to the Junior Order school building across the road from the main school building.  I can’t remember too much of the first year of school except my dad helping me learn to read.  He was always ready to help any of us with our studies.  Our mother was the main spelling teacher. 
James Thomas Karrick, 1870-1944 (my great-grandfather).
 

More Old Receipts

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Not a receipt but a campaign card for school superintendent, 1885.

Receipt from the undertaker (last number in year is hard to read, but I think it says 1884).  

Brother & Goodpaster receipt, 1889.
The name “Lacy” has been blotted over  and  “Brother” stamped above it.

Receipt from T.F. Allen Meat and Ice Market,  1915
 (the actual transaction is recorded on the back)

Circuses in Owingsville

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Ticket for The Mighty Haag from the 1930’s (Photo from josephinesjournal.com).  

This week Don makes his blogging debut:

In 1972, Daddy and I went to see the Clyde Beatty/Cole Bros. Circus in Lexington in the Turfland Mall parking lot.  I was ten and had only been to see the lights, glamour and glitter of Ringling Bros. & Barnum and Bailey.  When we arrived, the tent was a dull gray, but the side show barker was by no means dull: “It’s never out, never over, going on all the time!  See the circus side show, the bearded lady, the sword swallower….it’s never out and never over……step right up young man!”  Daddy was leery of the side show, concerned that I might see something I shouldn’t, but we did see the animals in the menagerie tent. 

The show had kept the name of the famous animal trainer Clyde Beatty.  The cat act was done by another man who imitated Beatty with the same costume, a whip, a chair and a gun.  Just for the hoot of it, he would fire off the gun!  We both laughed since it was really uncalled for and outdated.  It started raining outside and the tent leaked directly on me.  I didn’t miss anything though….just slid on down a seat or two.  Today the show is the Cole Bros. Circus and they have a beautiful new tent that doesn’t leak.

As you can tell, this is where my love for all circuses and the circus arts stems from.  Before Rupp Arena opened in 1976, he would drive us yearly in our big Buick to Louisville’s Freedom Hall to see the RBB&B show.  We probably ate cheap, but we always had front row seats for the show no matter the cost.  We were often late for church but never for the big show.  We were the first ones there and the last to leave.  I loved it! At any moment when things would slow down slightly, I would wonder around back stage and in the alley getting clowns’ autographs!

When Daddy grew up the circus was one of the main events of the year.  He met the show people and even remembered the elephants’ names.  This was one of his favorite stories, as it included both the circus and Big Band music:

Hey, it’s circus time and how thrilling it is!  Spine tingling, exciting – you add a few superlatives of you own.

Clowns, elephants, high-flyers, calliopes, brass-bands, cotton candy and excited happy crowds!

In the nineteen teens, twenties, thirties and forties, many small circuses criss-crossed this great country.  Small circuses were usually outstanding, and of course, most people could not travel any distance to attend the large ones.

Bath County had its share of small, good circuses.  Sharpsburg, Bethel, Salt Lick, and Owingsville welcomed some of these circuses most every summer.  One of the best circuses that was routed through this county was the Haag Brothers Circus or, as it was better known, “The Mighty Haag.”  This great, small circus had three large pachyderms which had to walk from one town to the next stand.  When the circus had played in Flemingsburg, the elephants walked from there to Owingsville’s Kimbrough Park.

The “Mighty Haag” had a crackerjack band directed by a man named George James.*  Please note that surname.  You are right!  Mr. James was the father of the great Harry James.  Harry, of course is considered as one of the greatest trumpet players of all time.

Harry played in the Haag band while still a young lad and played in Bath County many times.  Some true circus fans in the county knew George and Harry James.  Mr. Willie Lacy knew both of these musicians and really treasured that memory. 

The great trumpeter became iron lunged, as expressed by some musicians, but that in itself did not make him outstanding.  He later added finesse and played in jazz and/or swing bands.  Then Harry became an orchestra or dance band leader and then world famous.    

When any circus came to the area, whether a mud show,  a big top or in a big arena,  we went. ~ Don Kincaid

*Harry James’ father’s name was officially Everette Robert James, although my father  refers to him as George.

Mighty Haag Logo

A picture of Babe, Tip, and Alice of the Mighty Hagg!  Daddy new the name of the old handler walking beside carrying an elephant hook.   He said he never left the elephants.  In the background you can see paper with the “HAAG” name on it. 



Another picture, courtesy of bucklesw.blogspot.com.


Everette and Harry James, circa 1922
(Photo from circushistory.org)

Carnivals in Bath County

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The Whip (Image courtesy of Whiplake Hopatcong Historical Museum)


This entry gave me a few giggles – I hope it gives you one or two as well.  
From the journals:
Carnivals kept the roads hot in the 20’s, 30’s, 40’s, and even the 50’s traversing the state.  They visited the towns of Bath County.   Owingsville often had as many as three during the summer.  The Green Tree and Silver Slipper visited Owingsville about every summer. The attractions were the Ferris wheel, merry-go-round,  the Whip, pony rides, gambling joints, and girlie shows. 
Remember  Brownie’s Comedians and Bud Hawkins’ tent shows?  It was customary for them to make a week’s stand in each town with a show every night and occasionally a matinee.   The formats of these two shows were similar, with Brownie’s leaning more toward comedy.
Between acts of their plays, they made their pitches selling toffee candy with prizes included.  You no doubt are aware that shows such as circuses use this gimmick today. 
Small traveling shows were ‘thick as hops’ – most of them touring from town to town in one truck.  Some carried several small animals – others acrobatic acts, magicians, ventriloquists, etc. 
On the occasion of one small show visiting Owingsville and parking in the old Owingsville School yard, the owners needed someone to exercise a big bear.  No one in the group of boys and men standing around volunteered for such work.   The owner, seeing Banks  ‘Jelly Roll’ Coleman, Jr.  looking on and noting that Banks was a tall man,  begged him to exercise the bear.   Banks gingerly took the chain in hand which had the bruin on the other end.    Let’s just say the bear started leading Banks around and yanked the chain from Banks’ hand.
The bear ran to a telephone pole which stood just outside the old iron rail fence surrounding the school grounds and easily climbed to the cross-arms.  He sat there and old friend Banks headed for home.  All present said they could have done no better than Banks did.
Hope you enjoyed this post.  Next week, my husband, Don, will make his blogging debut on here, and you’ll get to read what Mr. Burl wrote about the circuses that passed through – and about a famous band leader who played with one of them. ~Ginger


A clipping from an old copy of The Owingsville Outlook
announcing that a carnival “is holding forth on the school campus” at Salt Lick.

We love magic in our family, and that’s due in part to Mr. Burl, who was known to perform a magic trick from time to time.  Perhaps his enthusiasm towards magic stemmed from seeing the magicians who performed with the carnivals that passed through.  I like vintage images like this one of the great magician Thurston.  Many of the old images hint of the supernatural, an association most modern magicians (and their audiences)  tend to eschew.  Houdini, by the way, rejected the idea that his feats were in anyway supernatural, although the author Conan Doyle argued that they were, which caused a bit of a disagreement between the two friends.

                                                         

Lyceum Courses

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The Dixie Girls performed in Owingsville as part of a Lyceum course.

Last week’s excerpt was about the Chautauquas that came to Owingsville, and this week we follow up on that.


From the journals:

Lyceum Courses!!  What were they?  Lyceum courses were the cold weather counterparts of the Chautauquas.  They catered to the arts mostly, but their programs were similar to those of Chautauquas. 

In small towns such as those in Bath County, the Lyceums were almost always held in auditoriums.  In those days, there were few gymnasiums in Kentucky and none in Bath County.

The same procedure that was followed in acquiring the Chautauquas was also followed with the Lyceums.  Generally, a minimum number of season tickets had to be sold in advance.  Sometimes, there would be five performances spread over the winter months – sometimes more.

In an old issue of the Owingsville Outlook dated 1919, I found a notice regarding an upcoming Lyceum.   It was to be held at the City School Chapel, and on the program were Fanny May Baldridge (a soprano who presented “stories of Negro life . . . in a delightfully wholesome and natural manner” – Miss Baldridge was white, by the way) and Evelynne Murphey (who specialized in pianologues and whose voice had a “flutelike quality”).   When performing together they were billed as The Dixie Girls.  Season tickets were $1.50 for adults and $1.00 for children.   



The description of the Lyceum offering, especially that of Fanny Baldridge’s act, piqued my curiosity because I’m interested in how some have attempted to romanticize the Old South.  This attempt is officially referred to as the “Lost Cause Movement” and it’s fascinating. The grave markers in the Owingsville Cemetery that were funded by the Daughters of the Confederacy can be regarded as a part of this Lost Cause Movement. Margaret Mitchell’s epic novel Gone With the Wind stands as a literary example of the movement.   Can we consider the Dixie Girls’ act as an example of it too?  

And how would that have gone over in a place like Bath County?  After all, if your families are like ours, you can count both Johnny Rebs and Billy Yanks in your family tree.  We have one handed down story of an ancestor helping a slave escape, while one of those markers from the Daughters of the Confederacy sits upon the grave of another ancestor (and thanks to my brother-in-law, Bill Kincaid, for his research on those markers and the Daughters – hopefully he can share some of what he’s learned with all of us in a future post).  

The 1919 clipping I refer to.
Sorry it’s a bit hard to read.

If you want to learn more about the Lost Cause Movement, click here.  
To read a bit more about Fanny Baldridge, click here.

Hope everyone is staying safe and warm.   When the weather pretties up, I’ll try to take some pictures of those Confederate markers and then post them on here. ~ Ginger

Another clipping about an upcoming Lyceum from 
a 1910 edition of the Owingsville Outllook.

Chautauqua in Owingsville

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Inside a Chautauqua tent, circa 1910.

         This is the first in a series of excerpts about the various forms of entertainment that passed through Owingsville and Bath County during the early 1900’s.   We hope you enjoy it and the ones that will follow!
        From the journals: 

        Do you wonder how folks were entertained years ago?  Most people back then did not have the transportation and especially the financial means to go to a distant city for entertainment.  Top entertainment was available for rural communities but it did strain many folks’ resources to attend some of the functions.
       Chautauquas were among the highest type of entertainment.  Believe it or not, Chautauquas usually were shows under a tent.  Several Chautauquas showed across the United States during the warm months of the year.  Two of the better known ones were the Redpath and the White and Brown.
         The Chautauquas came to Bath County and for many years pitched tent in several different lots in Owingsville.  They showed on Wells Avenue when there was only one house on that street.  Joe Bailey’s home now stands on the lot on Slate Avenue where they showed for several years.
        High class entertainment was the claim of a Chautauqua.  Bands, magicians, lecturers, and the best novelty acts were among programs presented. William Jennings Bryan, who was thrice the Democratic nominee for President of the United States, spoke to a capacity crowd on Well’s Avenue.  Mr. Bryan spent the day in Owingsville, having the noon meal with Mr. and Mrs. Glenn Perry on High Street.   Many local citizens, not having seen a president or even a candidate for president before, made an effort to come and see the former presidential nominee.
         There are a few things to note in regard to this excerpt.  First, the Perry House, as my husband and his brother still refer to it, is currently owned by the Raleigh family and it is located across the street from the home of Barry and Jill Toy (or across the alley from our home).    Some of you might not know this, but there is a cemetery just beside that house.   There are no markers, as they were taken up years and years ago.  Second,  the house Mr. Burl refers to as Joe Bailey’s is the one to the right of Rob and Mandy Kiskaden’s home (My husband, Don, says there is a flat piece of ground behind that house that would have been suitable ground for the erection of a tent).   Third, we think Bryan’s visit happened in 1922 but are still trying to confirm that date. ~Ginger 

William Jennings Bryan.  This master of oratory was a favorite of the Chautauqua circuits, drawing huge crowds with his populist speeches.

A Chautauqua program printed in the Owingsville Outlook in 1921.  Note how season tickets were sold.

Chautauquas didn’t just appear in a community and set up – they required the hard work and support of many people.  Guarantors promised to promote the show and signed their names on the contract, with the expectation that the public’s purchase of tickets would pay for the programming in the long run (this didn’t always pan out in some communities, causing the guarantors to have to pay out of their own pockets).  Note how the Woman’s Club was in charge of decorations.   


Links:
To hear a recording of Bryan’s “Cross of Gold” speech, click here.
For an overview of the Chautauqua movement, click here.
To read more about Chautauquas and theater in Kentucky, take a look at Marilyn Casto’s Actors, Audiences, and Historic Theaters of Kentucky by clicking here.