I'm Ready For Me Some Love Apples, Ms. Dedman!

Today was a rare treat.  Neysa & I escaped for the day to the relaxed elegance of the Beaumont Inn's dining room in Harrodsburg, Kentucky.  If you follow along, you'll have already read my prior blog post about the Beaumont.  The menu was traditional, including "yellow legged" fried chicken so moist and juicy I could hardly stop eating it, and a side dish so familiar to our own table at home.  Not too many folks today still make, or remember, what we call breaded tomatoes, but it's a regular menu item here and a handful of other established Kentucky restaurants.  I'll have too lovingly correct even Helen & Chuck Dedman, inn keepers of the venerated Beaumont, about proper Southern gastronomic terminology.  Our serving staff called them "stewed."  These are certainly not stewed tomatoes, and I'd proudly explain that all my diners.  Anyone can boil a tomato until it thickens, but this casserole, pudding, or whatever you wish to call it is much more complex, far richer to the palette, and hearkens to a time when our ancestors frugally accounted for their culinary resources all the while utilizing staples of sugar and butter to make something otherwise simple utterly succulent.  And, they were done deliciously today by the Beaumont kitchen, so much so I had two helpings.  I'm ashamed to give scant mention to the buttery mashed potatoes, Lima beans, hoe cakes, cornbread muffins, hot yeast rolls, pickled beats, corn pudding (see a future post!), and Bourbon laced bread pudding.   Suffice it to say it was a small feast, all cooked to perfection, and requires my attendance very soon so as to study all these other flavors with more accurate attention.  Helen Dear, save me a seat at the table!

The Buffet Line at the Beaumont Inn, now only offered on Fridays for Dinner (lunch to most of you, the noontime meal)

Breaded Tomatoes, or “Tomato Pudding”

©2017 gdg

By Gary Dean Gardner,

Independent Scholar of Southern History, Food, & Material Culture

Timeline                                                                                    

1550s-South American tomatoes grown in Italy                           

1710 - Reported as being grown in South Carolina gardens                 

1750s-Tomatoes widely grown for food                                               

1781 - Thomas Jefferson grows tomatoes at Monticello                      

1812 - French introduction to New Orleans cuisine   

                          

1824 - First Virginia tomato recipes in Mary Randolph’s cookbook   

1835 - First available in Shaker seed catalogs

1839 - First Kentucky tomato recipes in Lettice Bryan’s cookbook

1850s-First versions of sweetened baked tomato puddings & pies evolve in the upper South

 Ingredients

4 big dead ripe fruits or a 35 oz. can
1 stick (1/4 lb.) butter
½ tsp. salt
1 cup sugar
4-6 leftover biscuits
350 degree oven

Sometimes the simplest of foods escape our attention as we become more globally acclimated to once unheard of ingredients and cooking styles.  Cooks, be they amateur or professional, as well as the recipients of their efforts, are bombarded in print and video, not to mention their local “mega” grocery store’s electronic end caps, by luscious looking temptations from every country and ethnicity imaginable, many ready to heat and eat at our leisure and convenience.  We get so convinced of a contrived equation where “exotic + preserved/packaged + expensive = good food” that we lose sight of the basic true mathematical fact where instead “local + fresh/raw + simple preparation – overhead/advertising = good food.”

That to me is pretty simple & basic kitchen math, especially at mid to late summer when the fresh foods I love to eat and cook with are so plentiful I can buy them cheaply at the farmers’ market, or even have bushels given to me by my green thumbed & fingered father-in-law whose home vegetable garden takes on an appearance likened to the landscape of "Biltmore."  My counting does get confused though when it comes to tomatoes.  All of a sudden we seem to wake up one morning, having been tomato deprived for so long, only to discover that they were ripening at a rate faster than a super computer could calculate.  Well, maybe not that fast, but I know by this point in time they’re already ruining faster than we can eat them.  Ah, such adversity in life.  But that adversity, and what we once foolishly thought would kill us, does make us stronger, and gives us a chance to eat summer's most prolifically harvested fruit in its freshest form, at least for a few months, enjoying a taste canned tomatoes just can’t quite fully deliver.

 One of my favorite summertime dishes from childhood, my grandmother’s breaded tomatoes, is pretty much forgotten by many folks today as we become more sophisticated in our palates, due primarily to that lack of dependence upon farm fresh availability that generations past were accustomed to.  While I will make them in the winter using canned tomatoes, there is just nothing like a steaming hot casserole dish of home grown heirloom breaded tomatoes. The name itself, at least as we term it, is descriptive but still fails to adequately convey the use of this summer produce staple as a fruit, which it certainly is, rather than a more “Spanish” style savory dish as we might find in the deeper coastal South.  In fact, as we prepare the dish, it might be likened more to a non-traditional bread pudding or fruit cobbler than anything else.  Others have called them stewed or even scalloped tomatoes, but generally these versions are related dishes and not quite the same.

The origin for this style of cooking the once feared “love apple” seems to have its roots in Virginia and the upper Carolina's, as it is virtually unheard of in regional culinary centers like Charleston, Savannah, or New Orleans.  It may originate with the antebellum “Tomato Pie” found almost solely in the Tar Heel state.  The predominance of sugar even suggests an association with the old Moravian cooks, and certainly my North Carolina rooted maternal ancestors perpetuated the dish in our family as we migrated westward into Middle Tennessee and finally into south central Kentucky by 1840.  In fact, the preparation style as handed down to my mother seems to be rather unique to TN and the counties in KY where early Tennesseans mixed into the population, though her matriarchal Mercer County cooks retained a similar recipe.

In essence, breaded tomatoes are prepared in much the same way as traditional Southern “fried” apples (fried being another regional term referencing the cooking implement used more so than the actual process).  Fresh tomatoes are peeled & seeded and placed in an iron skillet with adequate portions of butter and white sugar, with a dash of salt to enhance flavor.  No onions, garlic, or Italian seasonings are used here.  Just as with the skillet fried apples, the tomatoes are stirred on medium heat until reduction begins and the sugar & butter are thoroughly incorporated.

Taste as the mix reduces, adding additional salt (sparingly) and sugar per personal preference. Then, in a buttered baking dish, day old biscuits (preferably) are broken into bite sized pieces to cover the dish.  Please do not ever use cornbread, and even white sandwich bread is not really recommended.  Gumpy lumpy goo goo is not baby talk for yummy in the tummy or pleasing on the plate should you not heed my warning and use white sandwich bread.  In Eastern Kentucky and elsewhere throughout the South we find many references to bread literally being dissolved into stewed tomatoes to thicken the juice, but that is not the texture we are seeking with breaded tomatoes.  We want chunks of bread that will soak up the sweet thickened broth of the cooked tomatoes without their being incorporated into a sauce.  We want to be able to bite into the bread to which clings the slightly syrupy chunks of tomato, again like we would find in a bread pudding, only here we omit the eggs and instead add fruit.

Pour the reduced tomatoes over the biscuits, making sure all the bread pieces soak up the sweetened mixture.  IF you reduced this too much and it won’t easily pour, add either another tomato or water to thin out the mix.  Sprinkle the surface with sugar, and bake until bubbly and just beginning to dry out on the top and form a slightly "crusty" appearance.  The finished product should not need a bowl to contain it when being served.  It is a Southern side, remember, so it needs to hold its own on the plate.

As mentioned, canned tomatoes work fine, but the fresh fruit is best, particularly when mixing yellow, orange & red heirloom varieties.  By not relying solely upon red tomatoes, you reduce the acid and add natural sweetness.  On family tables in Taylor and La Rue Counties, though certainly sweet enough for dessert, we would never substitute this for the traditional sweet end to a meal.  Rather the breaded tomatoes take their place on the plate as a colorful & rich side dish, verifying the fabled Southern sweet tooth that requires sugar in all vegetables.  For what it may be worth, don’t count the calories.  Just convince yourself you’re eating your veggies, and don’t be surprised if you spoon out a second helping and opt to dismiss the coconut cake as completely unnecessary now!

Eat the Past; Live for Today!

You Run Me Ragged: Part II

An Exploration of History, both Oral and Recorded, Pertaining to the Story of        Harriet Carter, African-American Weaver of Mason County, Kentucky

By Gary Dean Gardner, Independent Scholar of Southern History & Material Culture

30^th August 2016

Harriet Carter survived the decades as a memory, and as a story.  Like so much of oral history, one finds a kernel of truth, but facts become eroded and obscured by time.  The verbal legacy of Harriet, and the physical one in the form of her weavings, was clearly cherished by many generations of her descendants.  They perpetuated her memory, both young and old, as their bare feet caressed the worn vestiges of their matriarchal ancestor’s tangible presence in their lives, up until a time the youngest failed to listen to the stories, and stopped bothering with musty outdated old recollections of an era in time that folks were finding troublesome to deal with anyway.  Yet Harriet was never entirely forgotten, for her story, and her precious rugs, survived long enough to be resurrected from the past and preserved to allow her memory to live for many generations to come.  Each ragged weft, and every resilient warp thread, accounts for a day of honest labor long gone, yet surviving in a visual, tactile way that reminds us today of the life, death, loves and sorrows of a simple, very forgettable black woman whose textile legacy just won’t let us forget her contribution to our unique society in Kentucky.

There is, at this time, no evidence to show that Harriet Carter (aka Harriet Blades) ever resided anywhere other than Mason County, Kentucky.  Though a complete record of her birth is absent, as it is with most slaves of this Commonwealth even by the middle 1800s, there remains at least supportive evidence to conclude Harriet was born enslaved in Mason County about 1845, and forensic data enough in surviving records to allude to her potential ancestry.

Surprisingly, the small surviving cache of rugs hand-loomed by Harriet survived in her family with an uninterrupted chain of ownership by her direct descendants until they were gifted to R E-C of Chardon, Ohio.  The last heir and keeper of Harriet Carter’s textile legacy was Ruth (Mrs. James) Hunter of Cleveland, Ohio who, late in life and with no interest shown by her collateral family, offered the lot of remaining rag rugs made by her great grandmother to Ms. C to protect and preserve as a physical link to Harriet Carter and the memory of slavery as woven by Harriet near to or shortly after Emancipation.  Fraying but intact, the cast-off garments of white neighbors as repurposed by Harriet Carter became a symbol of the material culture of Kentucky’s African-American women of the 19^th century.

The provenance or lineage of ownership of the rugs is as follows:

1)      Susan Carter:   born perhaps in Virginia, but likely this was a reference to her own mother’s or grandmother’s birthplace.  Since we lack birth/death documentation for Susan, we cannot make a definitive statement.  Regardless, a confirmed place of birth is inconsequential to the greater story of the family, as many slave holders moved and migrated between locations.  There is no proven record of who Susan’s master was, so travel to & from Virginia causes no hindrance to any theories of association between Susan and other individuals and families potentially connected to her.  Susan’s possible birth in Virginia  fails to negate a multi-generational association with Mason County in northern Kentucky. 

2)      Harriet Carter (February 1846-1^st September 1928):  per the 1910 Mason County, Magisterial District 3, Household 71, Kentucky Federal Census, her occupation is listed as “Weaver of Rugs at Home.”  

3)      Stella Thornton Carter, Harriet’s Daughter (25^th March 1866-14^th July 1946):  Confirmation of Harriet’s offspring is found in the Magisterial District 3, Plugtown Precinct 8, Town of Dover, Mason County, Kentucky, 1900 United States Census.  Harriet had married “Head of Household” Mortimer Blades originally of Mason or Bracken County somewhat late in life in Maysville on the 2^nd March 1887.  By the time of this her first legally documented marriage she had born four children, two of which lived to adulthood.  Those living children in 1900 were Stella Carter (born March 1866) who married Robert Stroud, and Pickett Carter (born January 1875) who by the time of this Census had adopted the new surname of Blair.  (This is interesting, possibly inferring the parentage of Harriet’s children.  One likely candidate is Humphrey Blair of Bracken County, born ca. 1849 the son of Jessie & Nannie Blair.  This warrants additional research.)  Pickett (Carter) Blair was married 5 June 1907 to Jennie Moore.  Per Maysville’s “The Public Ledger” of that date, “Pickett Blair, a highly respected colored man of Dover, and Miss Jennie M. Moore, formerly of the same place, who taught at Dover 4 years in the Colored School and last year taught the Colored School at Bernard, will be married this evening at 8 o’clock at the home of Amanda Dickerson at Dover, the Reverend Evans of Aberdeen officiating.  On Thursday Pickett and his bride will leave for Dayton, Ohio where he has a good position in the National Sash Register Factory, and where they will reside.” Also residing in the Blades household was the mysterious Mariah Savage, whose possible identity will be discussed later.

4)      William Forman Stroude, Harriet’s Grandson (5^th November 1889 - ):  William Forman and his sister, Della P. Stroude, were the only children of Stella Carter.  He married Mabel Johnson.  They and their children are shown as family #45 on the 1930 US Census for Dayton, Montgomery County, Ohio.  There we first find record of Ruth, then age 8.  W. F. Stroude proudly served his country in two major conflicts, being a veteran of both the First & Second World Wars. 

5)      Ruth Stroud(e) Hunter, Harriet’s Great Granddaughter (ca.1922-20^th December 2013)

6)      R E-C:  Gifted the collection of rugs from Ruth Stroud Hunter, divorced spouse of James “Jim” Hunter of Cleveland, Ohio.  Mrs. Hunter had only recently removed the rugs from her home where they were in regular use to be placed into storage.  About to be disposed of and thrown away, Ms. C expressed interest and was given the remaining handiwork of Harriet Carter, Mrs. Hunter’s great grandmother, a former slave from Dover in Mason County, Kentucky.

Much remains a mystery about the Carter-Blades combined household already outlined above.  One primary question pertains to just who Mariah Savage was?  Age 87 in the 1900 Census, she was born ca. 1813 (apparently in Kentucky) and was, without doubt, the slave of James Savage of Germantown in Mason County.  She is found listed in the 1850 Mason County Slave Schedule as the property of Mr. Savage on line #10, a black female aged 37 years.  A member of the Mortimer Blades household by 1900, Mariah Savage is denoted as being a “grandmother.”  Whose?  Is this Susan Carter’s mother?  We can only conjecture, but that is a distinct possibility.  The age is correct for her to be the grandmother of Harriet.  That said, we as well have to ponder upon the identity of Susan’s and Harriet’s unnamed fathers.  Harriet Carter’s father was most likely a white man, for nearly all records denote Harriet as being Mulatto.  Now, was her father a Carter, despite the fact that the only white families in 1840 with that name were the George Carter family of Mayslick and that of James Carter, both of whom owned no slaves or, might he instead have been an Anderson, with Carter having been an older surname going back to a more distant maternal relative in Harriet’s past?

I offer that possibility because of the strong and lasting connection between the black Carters and the white Andersons of Mason County.  In fact, there is a distinct tie between the white branches of these families.  21^st December 1795 Larkin Anderson weds Mary Carter, both of Virginia, the supposed birthplace of slave Susan Carter.  He died in neighboring Bracken County November 1841.  Was Susan Carter, enslaved mother of Harriet, a descendant of Carter slaves that came into possession of the Anderson family?  It was a theory I had to reason out the best I could in analyzing records pertinent to Harriet’s past.  This thought of a Carter dowry required me to examine the other contemporary Carters with ties to Mason County.  In this process, I surprisingly found by accident some free blacks named Carter, the oldest of which was Rebecca Carter, born as well in Virginia about 1785.  In 1850 she was residing with Harvey Carter, also a free black, born in Kentucky ca. 1818, the same generation as Mariah Savage.  Harvey, one must assume a son of Rebecca, is shown as a tenant farmer for Hezekiah Jenkins (family #427).  Is there a legitimate connection to the Carter family of Virginia, a free woman and a free man of color, and two succeeding generations of slave women, all bearing the same surname in a rather small county where coincidence is somewhat unlikely?  This scholar doesn’t know, but finds the possibilities compelling.  A thorough examination of estate records from within Mason County will be required to piece this portion of the puzzle together.  There simply is no evidence, however, of slave ownership by any family of white Carters at the middle point of the 19^th century in Mason County to otherwise explain the surname.  Neither Harriet nor her mother are to be found by name in antebellum county Census listings, underscoring the safe assumption of their status as having been enslaved.  If Rebecca Carter is the true matriarch, with Mariah being a daughter, Susan a granddaughter and Harriet great granddaughter, then surely freedom was not a legacy passed down to these final generations of women before the Civil War, inferring the emancipation of Rebecca but not her children.  And, while playing games of conjecture, might Rebecca’s daughter have been sold to James Savage?  Or did Harvey Carter, a free black, ultimately father Mariah or Susan? Neither argument is out of the question.  No record of Rebecca is found after 1850, and none has been located for Susan at all but for the death certificate of her daughter Harriet.  It must be safely assumed that Susan died prior to Emancipation.

The idea of probable ownership of some of the immediate black Carter family by the somewhat extensive collateral Anderson family is substantiated by post-War Census records.  Freedman’s Bureau records fail to specify any work contracts for Harriet, or for her sister, Mary F. Carter, but the frequency of freed slaves working for old masters must be acknowledged as being supportive to such a supposition regarding Harriet Carter.  In the first United States Census conducted after the War, that of 1870, we find Harriet listed as a domestic servant in the household of Elizabeth Anderson, born in Virginia around 1798 and then a resident of Dover in Mason County.  She had been Miss Elizabeth Jennings, then married Stokes Anderson who was deceased by the time of the 1870 Census.   Interestingly, in the 1850 Slave Schedules for the county, Stokes is shown as owning one black male, age 55, thus born ca. 1795.  Jumping ahead again to those immediate post-War years, we see a repeated alliance between the black Carters and the widow Anderson that may allude to the parentage of Harriet and a potential slave marriage to either Susan Carter or Mariah Savage.  Also in the 1850 Schedules we find Elizabeth Anderson as the owner of 3 female slaves, they being a 24 year old black woman (b. ca. 1826), and mulatto girls ages 10 and 5 (births ca. 1840 and 1845).  Assuming Census records can be skewed in the accurate reporting of ages, we must not rule out that this youngest child is Harriet, for this same referenced 1870 Census denotes Elizabeth Anderson as head of household along with Missoura Anderson age 39, Paskell Jennings Anderson age 44, William Jennings age 36, and the three mulattos Harriet A. Carter age 24 (denoting a birth as early as ca. 1845-46 rather than 1850 as is inferred by later records) and her children Stella T. age 4 and infant Meda S. age 1.  This youngest daughter apparently died shortly after the Census was taken.  Since the 1850 Schedule and the 1870 Census correlate ages & dates for a mulatto girl, it’s necessary that we now consider the probability of her identity as Harriet Carter.  In addition, Harriet’s death record in Mason County, dated 1^st September 1928, corroborates a birthdate of 1845-46 (Kentucky Vital Records Index) reflecting Harriet as being 82 years of age at the time of her death.

By the time of the 1880 Census, Harriet has left the employ of Elizabeth Anderson and moved in to work in the home of William E. Tabb, a well-known Mason County merchant.  Harriet’s sister, Mary F. Carter, however, seems to have taken Harriet’s place in the Anderson household.  We find Mary listed as born ca. 1850, a mulatto domestic servant in the Dover, Mason County home of 83 year old Elizabeth Anderson and her daughter Missouri (aka Missoura) Anderson.  Elizabeth Jennings Anderson dies shortly thereafter, but Mary Carter remains in service to the family, now headed by Missouri Anderson per the 1900 Census and the 1910 Census.  (Do note, these later Census entries for Mary F. Carter now indicate her birth between 1843 and 1844.) 

Without further records to clarify things, we will never know for sure the exact lineage of Harriet Carter.  The evidence gleaned thus far is purely circumstantial, but sufficient clues exist to create a hypothesis that Rebecca Carter, once enslaved but emancipated, had a son, Harvey born free.  Harvey Carter then has an enslaved child, Susan, with Mariah Savage, a slave belonging to James Savage.  Susan, adopting the name of her natural father, Carter, becomes the mother, likely by white slave holder Stokes Anderson, of Harriet, Mary, and perhaps Addison.  Finally, Harriet becomes the mother of 4 children beginning in 1866, the father very likely a white member of the Blair family. 

                                                                                        

Let There Be Light: A Prelude To African-American History Month in LaRue County, Kentucky

The following is an unpublished piece I wrote as part of a weekly supplement to a serial church history for Hodgenville United Methodist a couple of years back.  I began my look at the church's past by exploring the nearly forgotten names of remembrance upon its stained glass windows.  What developed was a weekly bulletin supplement exploring each window and the impact of the particular family designated.  Some 4 months into the series, holidays and church functions seemed to have postponed, permanently, the completion of the widow history supplements, thus this brief look at race and change in the 20th century was never given to the membership to read. Understand there is no criticism of either person or family.  History, as written fact, requires an impartial acceptance by the reader to steer their own conscience, not that of the deceased.  What transpired is a poignant example of a community's growth that began first with resistance to change due to years acceptance of social judgment based solely upon skin color.   I present it now in honor of "Black History Month."  gdg

Sometimes the soft, spectral light, glimmering through the leaded segments of stained glass in an ancient church window, diffuses an illumination from the past in a manner that we might find more pleasing than stark, white light, more pleasing still than stark, white reality.   For often the Spartanly honest memories of those gone before us can be troubling, even unsettling when not softened by time. Still, the soft hues of light, shown upon us today out of these multi-colored panes & nameplates we now honor, might compose a memory we desperately require now in order to avoid the emotional pains a church, and a people, may have suffered. The biographies presented to date have hinted at a time when Christian love and acceptance were limited by social norms. While it is not our duty to judge based upon modern ideology, it is important to understand the context of the society within which our founders and ancestors lived and worshipped.

The 19th century was a time of division in both our nation and within our denomination as Methodists. Discussion, then fierce debate, led to a regional division of the Methodist church in 1844 based upon acceptance of slavery. Still a young congregation, barely 5 years old, our church was renamed Hodgenville Methodist Episcopal South due to its geography and union with a culture which supported our church’s and state’s stance on an institution we'd never today fathom embracing, much less dying for in battle.  Such was not the case in the society of the middle 1800s when northern influence to abolish a generations old system of chattel met with stubborn resistance even from devoted Christians who had grown up as observers and participants of this church-sanctioned white-black, master-slave dichotomy.   The outside push to change a culture split a doctrine in America.  While it never excluded black membership, this change confirmed a division of humanity, even in the church, that was based solely upon race.

We fail to understand today the exact social setting of religion as it included and made excuse for slavery in its midst.  But for Lexington & Louisville, there were few segregated congregations of any faith worshipping solely as an organized body of Black Christians.  Rather each church, ironically but for those considering themselves to be "anti-slavery," included African-Americans, enslaved or free, for consideration as members.  Attendance was confined to specific galleries or pews, and death required clear lines of demarcation in burials, but membership was inclusive of both races.  Published records verify that on the eve of Lincoln's election the racial statistics of the Elizabethtown District reflected our local churches, including Hodgenville, averaged a 17% representation of Black members. 

By the end of the War, one which brought an end to slavery through the shed blood of thousands, this division was carried out to a more visible extreme by the widespread establishment of separate AME churches which, along with “Jim Crow” laws of the latter 19th century, worked to remove African
-American attendants altogether from virtually all Southern “white” churches. This was the new society that post-War Southerners of both races grew to accept. “Separate but equal” defined the next 5 generations. We would remain “Hodgenville MES” long after the meaning of that political split had been forgotten, until “unification” came in 1939. And despite the fact that Southern Methodists led the way in racial acceptance long before a Civil Rights Movement impacted the nation, members of churches like our own, coming out of a crippling Depression on the eve of a second World War, knew nothing but a segregated worship experience. Their children would grow up with a maturing attitude toward race, but this last generation struggled with a change forced upon them that their church had never before requested, much less demanded.   

With unification came a quick recognition of the impact of decades of segregation amongst our churches. One of the early actions of the new denomination was the acceptance of African-American leadership. Of the first two black Methodist ministers to be ordained as Bishops by a socially and racially unified church, Rev. Matthew Walker Clair Sr., the son of Virginia slaves, came home from Liberia to serve his final appointment in Kentucky, where he died in 1943. His son, Rev. Matthew W. Clair Jr., would also become a Bishop, a rare succession from father to son, & would eventually touch our own congregation at Hodgenville in the 1960s at a time when his message of racial unity was far from popular. 

The motives of the heart are neither right nor wrong when shaped by an environment considered normal and good. As such, we cannot condemn the social decisions of generations past. We can, though, learn from them. With the unrest of the 1960s and the Civil Rights Movement, no rural Southern community escaped change, as none were exempt from a need for it. The same applied to
our own small town and its venerated Methodist church that only 20 years prior had renounced its old name for one that promoted unity and understanding.

Always considered “forward thinking” in its recognition of social need and readiness to become involved, Hodgenville United Methodist was blessed to have energetic role models, male and female, to steer us through the troubled waters of change. One of those, Allie Williams Handley, daughter of lay leader & legal defender Charles Williams, was especially skilled at passive confrontation to bring about reform. One of her most memorable accomplishments brought her praise as well as chastisement, and in the process caused some to leave our church family, including a major branch of a founding church & county family, the Enlows.

The descendants of Abraham and Jane Vernon Enlow have been so prolific in our church, certainly since our days in the original Main Street edifice, that we might not realize all the varied branches that have been represented among us over the years. This is especially true since the progeny of Rev. Robert Enlow, their 7th child, have remained so very active in this congregation through to the present day. Some of our members have as well claimed descent from one of Robert’s older brothers, Isham, the 3rd of Abraham Enlow’s children. Such is the case for the late Leonard Elva Enlow (1919-1990), better known in the community as “Buttermilk.” Born the son of Marvin Otis Enlow and Margaret Jane Wright, Leonard’s grandfather was Anthony Vernon Enlow (1857-1909), namesake of his uncle and Isham’s oldest brother, 19th century LaRue County physician Dr. Anthony Vernon Enlow, first born child of Abraham, who first perpetuated the maiden name of their mother, Jane Vernon. Isham (1819-1867), Leonard’s great grandfather, was married to Frances Thurman (1820-1885), thus uniting two prominent names in LaRue County history.

Sadly, not all persons can adjust readily to change. The invitation to African-American Methodist
Bishop and Civil Rights leader Rev. Matthew W. Clair, Jr. to speak to the Hodgenville congregation met with resistance from those not ready to adjust to the changes sweeping America. The Leonard Enlow family, and others, opted to leave our congregation rather than accept change. Tolerance, they deemed, was too costly so they, and we, paid the price of their loss to our church family due to intolerance. May their window, however, perpetually gleam from the memory of their longtime devotion to our church, and remind us today of the sacrifice of acceptance required as part of our Christian duty and service.

Beginnings of Adult Education in Kentucky, and a LaRue County Educator's Legacy

At some point I want to explore the stories of other early LaRue County School Superintendents & teachers. Here is one VERY worthy of recognition. He's an important figure in our Commonwealth's educational history. gdg

LINDSEY EVERETT ALLEN (15 JAN 1899-1980)

The following is a little-known account of the career of Lindsey Everett Allen, educator from LaRue County who was instrumental in the development of and advocacy for adult education in Kentucky.  At the time, some three generations ago, continued education for adults long gone from the traditional childhood educational system was but an infant idea born of the adversities of the Great American Depression.  Thanks to Allen, his realization of a need and dedication to finding solutions for his fellow Kentuckians grew into a lasting legacy perpetuated with great pride to this day.   Allen personally chronicled the beginnings of these modern programs in the writing of his 1941 University of Kentucky thesis, “History WPA Education Program in Kentucky” (University of Kentucky).

Born in Hibernia in southern LaRue County near to Taylor & Green Counties, Lindsey graduated from WKU in 1934 where he had studied while serving as LaRue County's Superintendent.  Lindsey went on then to study full time at the University of Kentucky while simultaneously serving as a statewide Educational Director for the WPA.  During this period he worked on curriculum development in Citizenship for middle & high school grades as his interests shifted toward the tremendous need in America for adult education and vocational training.  Lindsey Allen's Depression era work in adult education was discussed in 1944 by Flora L. Morris in her University of Louisville master's thesis entitled, "A Study of the History of Adult Elementary and Secondary Education and Possibilities for Future Service in Louisville, Kentucky" (University of Louisville, Institutional Repository).   Here Ms. Morris provided a brief biography of Mr. Allen, her former Works Progress Administration supervisor. 

Allen, Lindsey E. - State Supervisor and Director of Adult Education Program, Works Projects in Kentucky. 

"Born in Larue County, Kentucky; attended the rural elementary schools of that county; received his high school education in the High School Department of Western Kentucky State Teachers College, at Bowling Green, Ky.; B.S Degree June, 1934 from Western Teachers College, and degree of Master of Arts at the University of Kentucky, July, 1941. 

Married Christine Stiles, and has two children. 

Taught in the public schools of Larue County 1921-1929. From July 1, 1930 to June 30, 1934, served as County Superintendent of Larue County Schools.

Supervisor and Director of the Kentucky Adult Education Program from July 1934 to April 1943. Now connected with the State Division Vocational Rehabilitation, State Department of Education. Said, "Today, it seems reasonable to hope that adult education will be recognized as an integral part of a total program of education for all the people”"

Before entering into public service, Allen was pretty much just another country boy.  Per his 1918 World War I registration, as a young man he farmed, employed by his parents, Joe & Lucy Allen.  "Joe" was Joseph Wesley Allen, younger brother to my own 2nd great grandfather, William Henry Allen, so Lindsay was a first cousin to my great grandmother, Mary Elizabeth "Lizzie" Allen Poteet.  Joe Allen married Lucy J. Skaggs 23 July 1895.

As mentioned, Lindsay married Christine Stiles, apparently having met at Western while both were at school.  "Chris" seems to have been the daughter of Everett & Mary Stiles of Vienna in McClean County, south of Owensboro.

By the 1950s, the Allens had left LaRue County and moved to Louisville where they raised two sons, Dr. Stiles Wesley Allen born in LaRue County 24 Dec 1929 and later a graduate of the University of Louisville school of medicine, and his younger sibling Lindsey Gordon born to the Allens 18 Nov 1932 while in LaRue C.  During this time, Lindsay Allen continued to advocate for positive changes in adult education, serving as Chairman of the Kentucky (Vocational) Rehabilitation Association. 

Lindsey died in Richmond, Virginia in 1980, and was laid to rest in Westhampton Memorial Park.

His work is carried on, though.   Today Allen's model serves our Commonwealth still and is guided under the direction of Reecie D. Stagnolia, vice president for Kentucky Adult Education, Kentucky Council on Postsecondary Education, and now the Chairman of the National Council of State Directors of Adult Education (NCSDAE) Executive Committee. 

Researched & compiled by Gary Dean Gardner, 2016

Hodgenville, the Quiet Lady, and the Ladies Who Make Her Great

The following is an article I prepared this past summer at the request of the editor of the magazine for the Kentucky League of Cities, one that the editor later very rudely opted to refuse without comment after asking for it.  When I say "without comment" I mean she wouldn't even acknowledge receipt of the draft, much less offer suggestions on a different approach to the topic, as I urged.   It was intended for their January/February issue as a cameo feature on Hodgenville for Lincoln's birthday.  Since I was awaiting editorial direction to complete the article, a direction that never came, it was never quite finished.  Needless to say, though, I was quite finished with it!

Folks are strange today.  Seems "professionals" have forgotten how to be polite and do business at the same time.  For those of us who write, it's not rejection that hurts, but rather the utter silent dismissal of your labors that cuts to the quick.  That's a peeve of mine anyway.  Criticize if you will, but offer me enough respect to tell me what you don't like or agree with.  Just never dismiss me as irrelevant.  Oh well, water under the bridge and down the river.  Perhaps someone can appreciate through the blog what "Kentucky City" magazine & its editor had such unexplained disdain for.

I’ve only known her personally for a half century, yet I feel I’ve known her intimately for many generations.  Sleepy, quiet, perhaps out of touch to the passing viewer seeing the community only at its surface, I long ago heard her steady, ancient pulse and eventually felt the constant surge of strength that lies beneath through her stories as told by those vestiges of another era now departed from us.  We are not Hopkinsville, and we are not in Laurel County.  We are Hodgenville, of LaRue County, and we are unique, we are proud, and we are vital, just as we have been since our origins in what was once 18^th century Virginia.

That early life’s cord to the past still seems to supply a steady source of pioneer energy to this small town seeking a place in the 21^st century with the timeless grace of a lady whose has come to understand the role of matriarch in the greater family of Kentucky communities.  Oh, and don’t for a second think she isn’t a lady.  While men of character have been plentiful here, the ghosts of those formidable Southern ladies still make their presence known.  From Mary Brooks LaRue and Sarah LaRue Hodgen to Sarah LaRue Castleman and down the generations to Mary Jane Ferrill, Grace Green Middleton and Kaye Bondurant, the ladies of LaRue have left a legacy in Hodgenville that creates a pattern we all tailor our service to, each woman making her mark and leaving our community a little better than she found it.  The men may have had the primary positions of leadership, but our ladies have always taken the lead.

Best known today for its iconic National Park, the true history of Hodgenville has always been preserved and passed down by its story tellers.  True, there is a pervasive male voice, perhaps due to our fame as the “Cradle of Emancipation” that gave birth to America’s best remembered historic President.  From men like Homer Nicholas I heard the saga of the illustrious LaRue family who gave their name to the county.  He wove fascinating tales of distillers, poets, Confederate soldiers and early churches, but that softer feminine voice has always best recounted the stories of the past in Hodgenville.  Aunt Grace Green Middleton, widowed grocer and artist, narrated the visits of Presidents, the culinary arts as preserved in the famed cookbook of the Hodgenville Woman’s club, and the talents of fellow artisans who left a legacy of hand-crafted furniture, silver, paintings and coverlets that graced the homes of descendants nearly two centuries later. 

Some of the richest stories, though, came from Cousin Mary Jane Ferrill, or “Lady Jane” as we called her, childhood friend & cousin of my grandfather and the daughter of a 19^th century dry goods merchant whose pennies grew to dollars from the sale of farm implements and patent medicines.  While other teens spent their summer Saturdays at more youthful pleasures, mine were commanded to Saturday tea where, seated on her Chippendale sofa, the elegant dowager of Hodgenville introduced a teenage boy to opera and etiquette over stories of Hodgenville’s past, laced with dreams for its future that extended so far past her near century of diary entries.  In her parlor filled with Staffordshire figures and all the furnishings from a gentler, slower time, she told tales of pioneers and Gaelic slaves, Edwardian school days and a postbellum healing of a nation torn apart by a war that impacted the little town of Hodgenville more than most then living could start to comprehend.

Yes, the Civil War divided a nation, but it also split a small town, one where the wartime Commander In Chief had been born, but so too had a Confederate General as well as soldiers and citizens sympathetic to and represented on both sides of a conflict our country is still healing from.  For these, and many more reasons, Hodgenville is so much more than the mere birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, though his legacy continues to shape and define us.

Ironically, while the name of Lincoln has been tacked on to countless small businesses and agencies over the years. Hodgenville has never pushed the industry of tourism.  We have an active Chamber of Commerce, but no Tourism Council.  We have two components of a National Park, but no visitor center.  In lieu, though, we manifested community spirit in the establishment of the Lincoln Museum.  A multi-faceted gem that most small towns would be envious of, the power-packed institution boasts an incredible interpretive wax museum of Lincoln’s life along with an art gallery and research library rooted in the original collections of the Ladies’ Lincoln League a hundred years ago.  At its helm the museum is steered & guided by a representative of the current generation of Hodgenville ladies carrying on a tradition of dedication and service, that being Mrs. Iris Stanley LaRue. 

Bearing the same last name now and family representation as three other iconic LaRue women already referenced from the early 19^th century, Iris has successfully integrated that fabled fortitude and strength from the centuries past with a modern perseverance, paving the way for future women, more correctly ladies, of equal integrity and devotion to answer the call to service.  Iris LaRue stands as a role model for those who will yet come to be leaders in Hodgenville’s future.  She isn’t guided so much as she is inspired by the ghost of town founder Sarah LaRue Hodgen to perpetuate a legacy of strong female trailblazers in a town where its women were never relegated to the kitchen, but rather had the skills of the hearth they transformed into skills of independence and governance.

Iris isn’t alone as a symbolic lady leader of Hodgenville.  Another LaRue, her sister-in-law actually, has helped put Hodgenville on the culinary map and stands out as an endearing and progressive business leader.  Paula LaRue Varney knows a little something about a biscuit, as the name of her cozy restaurant The Hot Biscuit would imply.  She also knows a bit about good country cooking in general, inclusive of some of the region’s best homemade desserts.  Her Hot Biscuit is the gathering place for Hodgenville’s “movers and shakers”.  Any given morning will find folks from all walks of life enjoying good food and good conversation.  Now there is no gossip going on, understand this.  But, there may be some well intentioned criticism enlivening the table conversations, all meant to work out the main issues of the day and to educate the audience at Paula’s who can only listen due to their mouths being full of buttered biscuits, ham and jam!  Paula carries on a tradition of professional female cooking in Hodgenville that spans time and culture.

She follows a litany of wonderful home cooks who were enterprising enough to create culinary careers for themselves, from Nellie Hornback Thomas who gained a loyal following of GI’s and locals for her famed pies at the Hazel Hotel, on back further to former slave Joanne Durham who built up her own catering business during the Reconstruction Era.  By the way, that legacy of professional African-American cooks and caterers is a story all to itself, perpetuated in the 20^th century by the likes of Elizabeth Bell & Johnny Dorsey as well as Catherine Montgomery who satisfied the appetites of county music fans at Joey Ray Sprowles’ Lincoln Jamboree, Linda Thurman, who brought her own special touches and tastes to Paula Varney’s Hot Biscuit, and the late Claudine McDougal Thomas, whose jam cake and butterscotch pie became legendary pastries of choice at long remembered Christmas banquets of Hodgenville’s most “tasteful” holiday gatherings.

One might already see that the ladies of LaRue and good food have a long communion together in

Hodgenville, as our illustrious Woman’s Club cookbook will attest to.  So will the decadence of a piece of hand-pulled cream candy crafted by the loving hands of Rooney Gray, once it hits the back of your mouth and melts into a rich sensation that might bring a twinge of guilt.  A Mount Sterling, Kentucky native, Rooney secreted away the recipe and technique for this cherished candy of the Commonwealth to produce it here in Hodgenville at her MAM Candy’s kitchen.  There she as well lovingly creates a plethora of chocolates to tantalize any palate.  Just don’t come seeking these sugary temptations the 3rd Monday of October, or the weekend before it, as that’s when Court Days are held back in Montgomery County, and for just a few days Rooney is no longer a Mt. Sterling expatriate as she returns home to provide her candied delicacies to her old friends, family, and Court Days guests.  The rest of the year, though, she, and her candy, are all ours!

While we don’t encourage our visitors to Hodgenville to simply eat their way across town, the idea isn’t a bad one, and Anita Laha is happy to provide yet another stop on the local food tour.  Like Iris LaRue, Anita proudly bears and represents her husband’s family name, accepting through marriage a proud position of young matriarch of an esteemed family that, for many individuals, truly “means” Hodgenville.  For to countless legions of devoted followers, going back to 1934 when the tiny family restaurant opened, the name Laha has been synonymous with Hodgenville and Hamburgers!  Called the “Red Castle” by husband Kelly’s grandparents and restaurant founders Sally and William Laha, the current wife and husband Laha team continues after 80 years to serve only fresh ground beef laden with onion and pepper grilled perfectly as you watch, and smell.  That aroma, in fact, can make you salivate from across town, depending on the wind.  For that reason alone there is no reason for Anita to advertise, for the smell of onions draws hungry locals every day to the lunch counter where you are likely to see patrons that have eaten Laha burgers since childhood, as their parents and grandparents did.  

Were Anita Laha, or any of these formidable ladies of Hodgenville, to advertise their talents, ambitions, contributions, and dedication to this small Kentucky town, no phrase or slogan could adequately convey their love of community.  No cartoon or graphic could ever represent their pride of place.  Only their genuine smiles are sufficient to sell what can never be sold, for the experience of Hodgenville, thanks to these and many more fine ladies like them, is free to all who come and partake of it.