"Doc, that was a damned bad oyster." William Goebel, 34th Governor of Kentucky

I quote in my title the suppressed dying words of our Commonwealth's only assassinated Governor, who was shot the day before he was sworn in, lingering as Governor in name only for but 4 days.  Referencing his last meal, Goebel's final remarks were preserved for posterity by Kentucky humorist and writer Irvin Cobb who questioned the noble & sage words quoted by the general press at the time, discovering the Governor's final thoughts weren't on politics & the people, but upon a last meal that lingered nearly as long as he did!

Governor William Goebel, Assassinated in Front of the Kentucky State Capitol

We don't know much about Goebel's love of oysters, but he wasn't alone in his cravings.  Despite being land-locked, though with a major river highway directly to New Orleans, Kentucky early on adopted this bi-valve into its food heritage.  Yes, just like our coastal Southern sisters, Kentucky has an interesting yet virtually forgotten early culinary relationship with oysters.

I can speak from experience that oysters constitute an important place on at least the holiday table in Bluegrass celebrations.  As long as I can recall, my mother, Margie Anne Skaggs Gardner (Miss Margie to many of her 2nd & 5th grade students for 3 decades) has prepared oyster dressing for Thanksgiving, and often for Christmas, primarily to satisfy my father who, like the good Governor, has always enjoyed a good oyster.  I even today remember my fascination with the creature from a young age, for while the sometimes all too vivid green interior held me back from relishing the treat for some time until my palette matured, I still watched my mother in the making of the dressing, and for years cherished a tiny pinhead-sized blue-black pearl recovered from the flesh of one oyster she was ready to bake with butter, cream and crackers.

I'd really never thought too much about the irony of a love for oysters in a state nowhere near the sea.  Then some years ago I was approached to research an old crate of great antiquity upon which was stenciled, "Wm. Sowders;  Celebrated  Kentucky Sauce... Hodenville, KY."  As I began studying this relic, I uncovered a story of early Kentucky's, and especially Louisville's, love of oysters. My reply to the owner of the crate explained,

"In the decade prior to the Civil War, in that era when Louisville bars & restaurants held striking similarities to those in New Orleans when accounting for the numbers of fresh oysters served, William Sowders, local fish monger, became known by 1860 as the largest oyster dealer in Louisville, supplying the succulent delicacy as far as Nashville through loosely associated trade with his half-brother, Stephen P. Holcombe.

Apparently fresh oysters on ice were brought upriver from New Orleans and canned oysters came in by train from Baltimore at that time to Louisville and were wholesaled by local oyster dealers to restaurants & bars, both in the city and to outlying areas, even on down the Ohio River to far western Kentucky. Some of these oyster sellers even constructed haphazard counters for patrons to grab a quick meal of raw oysters.  As many will recall, the "Louisville Oyster Roll" remained a unique bar food there many generations. It may still be served in some older, out of the way watering holes there.

Oyster Inn, Louisville, KY 1928, with its shell-covered facade, courtesy University of Louisville

Per local food historian and cookbook author Marion Flexner in her classic Out of Kentucky Kitchens, "The rolled oyster is a distinctive Louisville culinary invention.  It is a fist-sized, croquette-like affair composed of three or four juicy oysters encased in a smart jacket of cracker meal or white corn meal.  Rolled oysters can be eaten with the fingers at alfresco backyard picnics, or given the place of honor at a Sunday night supper.  Dip them into your favorite catsup or tartar sauce between each bite. If you have never eaten them before, you have a real taste treat in store for you. 

The two old-time restaurateurs who battled (verbally) about how this particular concoction came into being are Al Kolb and Mr. (Phillip)Mazzoni.  Al insists his mother brought the recipe to Louisville from New Orleans.  Mazzoni's story is that back in the 1870s a Frenchman who ran a tavern on 3rd Street had a batch of oysters left over.  Not knowing what to do with them, he had one of the cooks whip up a flour and water batter and mix the oysters in this.  Then, because they were so small, three or four were rolled together in cracker meal to make one gigantic croquette."

A 1936 Piggly-Wiggly Display of Mazzoni Oysters, courtesy University of Louisville

Which ever version of the story is correct, it's a sure bet that both of these early Louisville restaurants were well acquainted with the Sowders family.  William Sowders' oyster & seafood enterprise was established originally as a mere "fish stall" in Louisville at least by 1851 per newspaper references, and was firmly established as the more lucrative and substantial "Sowders & Halcomb" per The Louisville Directory & Business Advertiser for 1859-60 . At this time, on the eve of the War, the city directory shows him with an "Oyster Depot" on 3rd Street between Market & Jefferson.   Interestingly, Sowders' Depot was on the same street at Phil Mazzoni's saloon!

The culinary terminology here at the middle 19th century is of interest and warrants further mention.  In addition to oyster "depots" such as Sowders operated where customers could buy oysters in bulk, by the bucket for home, or "stand and eat" them freshly shucked, the 1859/60 City Directory also references "Oyster Saloons" where Bourbon & bi-valve met in a most unique culinary fashion.  A more thorough exploration of these specialty restaurants, associated generally with the coastal South, can be read on the "Southern Foodways Alliance" blog, a link to which is attached.  https://www.southernfoodways.org/pirates-prostitutes-and-the-search-for-a-respectable-oyster-saloon-in-the-lone-star-state/

Louisville wasn't the only lover of oysters, as Governor Goebel may have implied.  Kentucky's Capitol City celebrated the delicacy as well.  Gray & Todd, grocers in Frankfort, advertised in The Daily Commonwealth for the 11th January 1858 the availability of pickled oysters on one page, and on another,

FRESH BALTIMORE OYSTERS

We have this day commenced receiving Fresh Baltimore Oysters, and will continue to receive them daily during the oyster season by Express, and sold exclusively for cash by GRAY & TODD.

Louisville, though, seemed destined to link itself with seafood in a grander, more permanent fashion, primarily in regard to oysters.  Despite William's quick rise to fame in the upper South as an oyster man, he hadn't exactly overwhelmed his competitors in the process of cornering the state's oyster market.  With the publication the following year of the Louisville City Directory of 1861, coinciding with the declaration of war between South & north, Sowders found himself contending with 9 other oyster "depots" operating in Louisville, 4 of them on the same block with him!  Perhaps because of this paradox of increased regional demand for oysters along with increased competition in providing them, Sowders not only continued to market fish, but branched out as well to wholesale fruit, poultry, and freshly caught local game, in addition to expanding his sights to a burgeoning market for condiments in the form of his "Celebrated Kentucky Sauce." 

 Later on, in the 2nd half of the 19th century, the business included his children, operating as "William Sowders' Sons." After becoming ill in the early 1880s his widow Hannah became the primary active operator of the business until selling out completely to a firm in Baltimore, MD in 1884. Hannah Jane Ayland Sowders (1850-1918) was well known & respected in a primarily male business climate for her business savvy. She was even a member of the Louisville Board of Trade. In fact, it appears she was the only female member of the late 19th century who actively owned & operated a business. 

Before selling out, the 1883-84 Kentucky State Gazetteer & Business Directory listed Hannah both as a wholesale/retail vendor of "Oyster, Fish and Game, Also Fruit & Celery," as well as "Sauce Manufacturer," confirming for us the sideline culinary venture begun by her husband and very likely made an hour or so south of the city of Louisville back in the more rural central Kentucky community of Hodgenville in LaRue County where William Sowders was born.  It may have even been bottled and warehoused in Athertonville, the county's commercial center where the nation's largest sour mash whiskey was distilled.  From the Athertonville depot along a private spur of the Louisville & Nashville Railroad, the Sowders could easily distribute their product by rail back to Louisville and beyond.  What exactly this sauce was remains a mystery, but most likely it was either a catsup or, more realistically, a pepper sauce to compliment the oysters served at William & Hannah's famed "Oyster Depot." 

The market Hannah maintained on behalf of her husband remained a fixture in the Louisville culinary community well into the 20th century, as attested to by the 1908 Caron's Directory of the City of Louisville, listing the Sowders Fish Company at 151-153 West Jefferson under the management of D. W. Loewenstein.

Hannah's sale to a larger, national oyster distributor documents for us the changing world of late 19th century food movements and sales, not just in the South, but throughout America.  The 1886 publication The Industries of Louisville, Kentucky and of New Albany, Indiana, details the demise of small scale mongers and oyster men of the upper South as coastal, even northern, food packing and shipping companies reached down to grasp a Southern market. 

"A. Booth & Sons, of Baltimore, Chicago, and San Francisco, are the largest packers
of oysters and fish in the world. Besides the three main supply depots mentioned, they
have various branch houses, at St. Louis, Minneapolis, St. Paul, Indianapolis and Pitts-
burgh; at Astoria, Oregon, devoted to the canning of salmon ; at Collinsville, Cal., and
Escanaba, fruit; at Bayfield and Washburn, fish.

The house here, employing a force of nearly twenty hands, under the excellent man-
agement of Mr. James K. Davidson, is in a most flourishing condition, and occupies the
large and commodious quarters from 300 to 310 Third street. The concern was originally
established as long ago as I850, by William Sowders, conducted after his death by his
widow, and bought out by Messrs.' Booth & Sons in 1883.

The " Oval " and " Diamond '" brands of oysters packed by them have an excellent
reputation in this vicinity, and the annual sales of all goods handled by the firm here
aggregate about $150,000.

In addition to the great specialty of oysters, the house handles immense quantities of
fish, game, celery and other dainties, always carrying the most complete stock of these
in their season. Their sources of supply being unlimited, and under the supervision
of Mr. Davidson. the capable and energetic manager, who has been engaged in this
same line for fifteen years, the house has received a flattering share of confidence and
patronage."

The sale of the company by Hannah Sowders doesn't mean the family left the business entirely.  On the contrary, for it appears that L(e)onora Sowders, daughter of William & Hannah, carried on management of operations, following in her mother's footsteps as a female business leader in Louisville in the unexpected trade of seafood.  Caron's Directory lists Lenora as President of "Sowders & Co." with her brother James Sowders manager of their 1st street stalls, and her older half-brother Samuel a fisherman for the firm.  Clearly, William Sowders created a legacy that his family actively carried on for many decades after its founding.

William Sowders' personal origins are sketchy at best.  He was born ca. 1821, possibly in that part of Hardin County that later became LaRue County. His mother was a Renfro, likely tied to the family near Upton and with ties to Green & Hart Counties as well. His father, James Sowders, remains a mystery, but we know he died when William was a child.  Margaret Renfro Sowders then remarried Thomas Holcome, who as well died, leaving her a widow two times.  A lad of perhaps 12, William's family removed from the pastoral countryside of LaRue County and south central Kentucky in 1835 for the commercial riverside packet and steamboat landing at Shippingsport, an early settlement ultimately incorporated into the city of Louisville.  Here his half-brother and future partner, Stephen Holcombe, was born.  The boys' mother, Margaret, would eventually marry a 3rd time, the 3rd Dec. 1846, to Thomas Percival Thompson in Jefferson County, providing them both with a father, and perhaps improving their somewhat impoverished childhood circumstances.

 12th Dec. 1843 William married Elizabeth "Betsy" Sweeney, with whom the couple had children Samuel, Margaret, John, & Charles before they divorced.  With his 2nd wife Hannah Ayland he fathered Jennie, William, James, Eva, and Leonora.  William died March 13, 1884 in Oldham County, KY, possibly due to a brain tumor. He was buried at Cave Hill Cemetery in Louisville.

William's half-brother, Stephen Holcombe (spellings vary), though formerly a Mississippi River boat gambler plying and playing the river from New Orleans to Memphis, went on to a lifetime of ventures regarding food, ultimately feeding the soul as well as the belly of those who hungered.  Apparently a staunch Confederate, he catered early on in the war to the approaching Southern troops, finally opening a restaurant & grocery in Bowling Green, Kentucky, then selling out for a handful of Confederate war bonds when Federal troops forced the Southern army out of what had temporarily become Kentucky's Confederate State Capital.  Holcombe returned to Nashville, and the Faro table, not the dinner table. Ironically, Stephen's Holcombe answered a greater call, becoming a minister and "preacher of the Gospel."  His full life's story is recounted in Rev. Gross Alexander's biography, Steve P. Holcombe, the Converted Gambler: His Life and Work."

All that said, my feeble efforts in the scholarship of oysters and their relationship to the 19th century Kentucky table pale in comparison to the detailed work done by the Murray State (Kentucky) Archeology Program back in 1988.  Entitled "CURRENT RESEARCH AT THE GOWER HOUSE (15Lvl 78), LIVINGSTON COUNTY, KENTUCKY," the paper that resulted from this dig at such an early Kentucky inn of far Western Kentucky along the Ohio & Cumberland Rivers is an exceptional investigation into our love affair with oysters so early on in Kentucky, underscoring my own assumptions of the important cultural, culinary & economic ties between New Orleans & the Bluegrass, and even on to little Hodgenville, Kentucky, home to "Soward's Celebrated Kentucky Sauce." It makes me ponder just how far down river folks where splashing a bit of local sauce on those Gulf oysters!

Bell-Gower House, ca. 1800, Livingston County, Kentucky

Scholars, and those with an interest in further reading, please take advantage of this link to the Murray State oyster research. http://infosys.murraystate.edu/KWesler/Symposium%20OHVA%20Volume%2012/V12_p039-057.pdf 

Langston Hughes, you'd a loved my Grandma's raisin pie, in the Sun, or the shade.

I forsake local politics, and local history, for a spell to ponder again on regional foodways.  Now I know y'all don't get real motivated at the thought of a raisin.  Let's just be frank, it looks too much like a mouse dumplin' to place alongside Southern staples like pecans or grits.  It doesn't exactly whistle "Dixie" at all unless perhaps macerated in the best of Kentucky's Bourbons, and even then it fails to connote any real sense of place, unless that place be southern California maybe, and I sure have no understanding or history of that place. 

So just how is the raisin "Southern" in regards to our regional food identity?  Honestly, I've had to dig a bit, and even then was forced to speculate to some degree.  I at first thought the raisin may have become welcomed into the local larder during the Depression as a storable & cheap sweet, but soon found that hypothesis to be pretty much wrinkled as the raisin itself.  My momma, in fact, while a child of the Depression, got me on the road winding a little farther back than her first memories.

Her momma, my grandmother, Miss Annie, was the devotee of the raisin pie in these parts.  Now I'll admit, I was somewhat squeamish about them when I was little.  They are, in nature, a tad gelatinous for the palate of most young children, but fresh from the oven, if afforded a good taste with a blind eye, a raisin pie can win over even the pickiest of toddlers.  That intense grape sweetness carried to the tongue in that creamy silky filling is pretty unforgettable.  I can taste Grandma's raisin pie right now, all these many years later. 

Neysa Jo's (that's my sweet wife) aunt really got me on this food quest.  I don't know what sparked her interest, but not long ago, out of the blue, she asked if my mother had a recipe.  I "assumed" as much, since it was our family version of mincemeat, so I asked.  I should have remembered that I didn't remember my mother ever making them, and my grandmother, known for her collection of clippings and penciled notes, didn't always write down her favorite stand-by desserts.  Such was the case for raisin pie.  No recipe.  Well, nothing I could copy, but....she could, if I wanted, tell me pretty much how to make one.

What followed was a dictated recipe in detail, to the point I though she was reading it.  No. There was no script.  Just a memory of standing beside her mother in the kitchen, as I'd done with both those ladies, seeing the process instead of reading a printed recipe.  Like the memory of a taste or a smell, it lingered.

Now Aunt Carolyn was satisfied, but I was curious about this pie I'd nearly forgotten about, as I sure didn't see it on anybody's table in recent times.  I wondered if it was common in Kentucky, or if it had migrated here when Miss Annie was a young housewife.  The full answer I'm still working on, but Mother's recitation was soon countered in a fashion that left even me speechless (for a little while).  Seeking comparable recipes, it wasn't long before I found not just a similar pie, but rather it was as if my mother HAD been reading off a published recipe, only it was from a 1906 cookbook entitled How We Cook in Tennessee! 

Do understand, Miss Annie had the proud cooking heritage of a maternal line stretching back to Colonial Virginia, but a paternal ancestry right out of Middle Tennessee.  What my mother so clearly remembered was mirrored almost word for word and ingredient for ingredient in this Jackson, TN compilation of Tennessee favorites printed when her mother was but 2 years old.  It made sense, growing up in "Pinch-Um" in Taylor County, Kentucky, that Miss Annie was taught how to make raisin pie by her Grandma Poteet in a tradition brought up from the Volunteer State into south central Kentucky where so many Tennesseans had settled.

The simplicity of this recipe brings one an overwhelming sense of "duh."  My 9 year daughter Augusta could make a raisin pie.  In short, it requires a cup to 2 cups of raisins (based upon individual taste, whether you want a dense pie or a lighter, creamier one), a cup of sugar (many cooks early on recommended brown sugar), two cups of water, a tablespoon of corn starch, and a pinch of salt and zest of lemon (1/2 of a lemon at most) and a tablespoon of vinegar (optional).  Boil for 15 minutes or until adequately thick.  Spoon into your crust and cover with lattice crust, baking until crust is done.  So simple, so delicious.

Afterward, I found yet another, earlier reference to the pastry in the South's food history. New York born but married to a Kentuckian, the former female newspaper editor and recipe collector Frances Emugene Johnston Owens had authored  Mrs. Owens' Cook Book and Useful Household Hints, self-published simultaneously in both Little Rock, Arkansas and Louisville, Kentucky in 1884.  In it were offered two versions of raisin pie.  I especially like the simplicity of the first, by Mrs. E. B. Baldwin, which read, "One cup raisins- seeded.  Stew until soft.  Thicken with flour, like gravy.  Sweeten to taste and bake with two crusts."  The next version, more complex, was provided by Mrs. M. M. Jones of, not too surprisingly, Nashville, Tennessee!

Frances Owens warrants further mention.  A fascinating and vital career was cut short when she and her daughter, Amy, were tragically killed along with over 600 others in the infamous 1903 Chicago Iroquois Theater fire.  Frances Johnston had been born in Sidney, New York in 1843, but married William Lawson Hathaway Owens of Maysville in Mason County, Kentucky, whose parents eventually settled in Louisville.  He being a printer by trade, the couple went on to establish a newspaper in the Dakota Territory before moving to Chicago where she converted her life-long collection of recipes into an important late Victorian cookbook which clearly resonated with Southern readers.  Her relationship with Mrs. Jones in Tennessee is undetermined, but Frances credited this lady with two other recipes in her book. 

OK, so raisin pie is from Tennessee!  Go Rocky Top!  Uh, not so fast.  Raisins are from southern California, remember?  Definitely NOT south of the Mason-Dixon line, though, come to think of it, grapes were grown here long before they were on the west coast, but that's a blog for another day.  Any way, surely Tennessee never claimed the raisin as it's own little dried fruit, did it?  But then again, bananas are associated with far western Kentucky and the town of Fulton, because that was where the bananas that had been unloaded at New Orleans were iced and loaded again for shipment to Chicago, so stranger food geographies are known in the South.  But raisins from California to Tennessee? 

Truth is, raisin pie may have no true Southern origins.  Like many foods, this one seems to have its roots in Pennsylvania but eventually made a Southern migration.  We know it was popular in America by the 1860s with no specific regional association, but by the 1930s, once California growers were making raisins plentiful & accessible to consumers across the country, the pie was a favorite even in the deep South.  For no good, recorded reasons, raisin pie just especially satisfied the sweet tooth of Tennesseans as the 19th century faded into the 20th.  This popularity was certainly aided by the effective marketing of the Sun-Maid company, who included the recipe for raisin pie on the packages of their California-grown raisins per the Sun-Maid Herald Vol. I & No. 1 for 1915.  In this early trade publication, we read that, "10,000 small cards were prepared for exclusive pie bakers, calling attention to the goodness of Sun-Maid raisin pie, and these are being sent out as called for....Small cards in two colors, for restaurant use in popularizing Sun-Maid raisin pie are being distributed by the largest pie bakers of the country, nearly all of whom are now baking raisin pie with steadily increasing demand for this product."  

A Sun-Maid Recipe Advertisement Featuring Raisin Pie, ca. 1920

Thus clever and efficient marketing created an American appetite, not just a Southern one, for raisin pie by the time of the 1st World War.  According to the Southern Foodways Alliance, the Tennessee tradition of professionally baked raisin pies is carried on today by Seaver's Bakery of Johnson City in East TN, very likely as a direct result of Sun-Maid's success in promoting its product.  But surely, as my mother and my grandmother and the good ladies of First Baptist, Jackson, Tennessee back in 1906 verified for us, Tennesseans, and Southerners in general, discovered a love of raisin pie that we continue to this day. 

LaRue County, By the Book; An Expanded Look at the Library's History

By 1761, American colonists were fed up with tax decisions made by an English Parliament in which they had no voice.  Even then, it was no new issue.  My own paternal uncle, Sir John Randolph, had personally taken up the argument with King George by the 1720s on behalf of Virginia's overtaxed tobacco planters.  LaRue County, Kentucky's public library board seems to operate in much the same aristocratic & autocratic English way, charging ahead with a new construction decision in which the tax payers of the county have no say, the people of the town have no input, and for which we've all yet to see a proof of need.  Times haven't changed so much, for those in power still take ownership of the resources of the poor and powerless, clearly, it would appear, because we haven't the common sense to spend our own cents wisely.  Perhaps we should thank these visionaries who speak and act on our behalf without our having to think or assume the burdens of social responsibility.  Perhaps. 

That said, the announcement of the new library building and its departure from down town after a century comes in the local newspaper with a hastily researched summary review of the institution's history, one that strangely fails to mention its first librarians.  Fortunately, my work on the history of Hodgenville United Methodist Church allowed me to glean some biographical information on one of these ladies, along with the identity of the first, which will follow, but I wonder if anyone knows the real story of just how our county was finally prompted to create a library?

Lincoln Memorial Library, a WPA Construction ca. 1935-

Yes, it's true, the civil organization of local women, the Ladies' Lincoln League, constituted the primary impetus for creating a library, but their efforts lacked motivation for many years, when they, and the citizenry, became oddly content to have a hodge-podge assortment of books on a borrowed shelf.  Understand, this group of civic-minded women had done a lot since their inception in 1909 when they were chartered with but 16 members when organized on 16th September of that year.  For the next 18 years they tackled community improvement projects like paving the town square, installing sidewalks and street lamps, and caring for Adolph Weinman's  Lincoln statue.  By about 1917, for reasons lost to history, their membership set about to enhance the literacy of the county. They began to raise money by selling souvenirs in a shop (no longer standing) at the rear of the Lincoln Memorial at the National Park. (This business venture was terminated and the Ladies evicted from the Park in the early 1930s.)  Per the official state record, "The Lincoln League Library was established by the Ladies' Lincoln League of Hodgenville.  It is located in the rooms of the League and its purpose is to make books available to persons in all parts of the county.  It was formally opened in June, 1917.  Several hundred volumes were donated and a small subscription fee is required.  Mrs. Charles R. Creal is in charge of the library."  Thus was reported the creation of the present-day LaRue County Public Library in the Kentucky Library Commission Fourth Biennial Report 1915-1917.  Later on, per the 1st March 1921 issue of The Library Journal the still fledgling library had amassed a collection of books valued at $200.

That first librarian referenced was Lily Beauchamp Jones Creal (1893-1973), wife of Charles Ramsey Creal (1891-1952), co-owner, publisher & editor of the LaRue County Herald (with R. N. Munford).  Lily & Charles had married the 15 January 1913.  She was the daughter of Dr. James Cook Jones (1852-1937) & Nancy Brownfield Jones (1862-1933) of Buffalo.  Nancy was the great granddaughter of early LaRue County pioneer George Brownfield (1773-1851).

It would appear that the League's work in sustaining a library had become stagnant by the beginning of the "Roaring '20s", and the members complacent with the infant status of the project.  That situation may have continued for many more years had they, and we, not been shamed by the somewhat biased yet basically truthful expose' by a Ladies Home Journal reporter back in January of 1922.  In it, we discover what the ladies of Hodgenville must have been horrified to read, a scathing account of ignorance that, while certainly weighted in its negativity, sustained a kernel of truth, especially for the wife of a newspaper man. 

The infamous yankee reporter turned Hodgenville traitor was one Charles Albert Selden (1870-1949), former reporter for the New York Sun and contributing writer to the Journal as well as Harper's.  His article was, even today, eye-opening to say the least, with some serious interviews that read today like a "Saturday Night Live" comedy script, but his message to a nation of readers, mostly women, was anything but comical, and was certainly not flattering to the membership of the Ladies' Lincoln League who had done so much to bring their town into the new 20th century.  Their marked failure in a 15 year project to establish a library, while an embarrassment, failed to daunt these women.  It instead launched a fervor and fortitude this town had never before seen.

While Selden's article would be entertaining and pertinent to print here in its entirety, I shall first request permission to do that at a later date, and shall instead let it suffice to quote his findings regarding the Lincoln League Library.  Selden wrote, "In the public square of Hodgenville, facing the courthouse, is a bronze statue of Lincoln erected by the Government.  At one corner of the square (now the Lincoln Museum) is a bakeshop, which houses the most encouraging thing in Hodgenville so far as education is concerned.  The woman who keeps the bakery (Nona Stierle) is the president of the Ladies' Lincoln League, and in a room back of her store is the beginning of the League's library, housed there temporarily for the use of the community until the League can obtain different quarters.  There is a considerable number of books of popular fiction and a half a dozen trivial books about Lincoln- none of the great biographies of the man.  One entire shelf is filled with bound volumes of the Congressional Record.

The president of the League did not know who had made the Lincoln statue in the square.  "Oh, I don't know that," she said.  "I'm only the president, and I'm very busy with the store.  The secretary ought to know all those things."  But hats off, nevertheless, to the president of the League and the village baker.  She at least does not think that her neighbors are, "all fed up on Lincoln," and she is willing to give up a whole room of her restricted quarters that the public may have the facilities for reading books."  Selden's editorial goes on to quote other individuals in the county, from teachers to farmers to the Superintendent of Schools, gathering ample verbal evidence of a severe educational failure in LaRue County. 

As noted, the "baker-librarian" that Selden interviewed was our county library's 2nd official custodian, Mrs. Nona Stierle.  Born Nona Blandfield on 14 November 1887 near Leitchfield, Kentucky to Methodist parents Sarah Jane Hart and James Harvey Blandford, members of Summit United Methodist Church, Hodgenville’s Nona Stierle is best known perhaps as the mother of a beloved teacher, but in truth she was respected in her own day for her work with the Ladies' Lincoln League and for her unrecognized vocation as our county’s second librarian, taking over the initial work of Lily Creal.  By common knowledge an outreach of the Ladies’ Lincoln League, few today remember the irony that our first LaRue County Public Library had its austere beginnings in the back room of Mrs. Stierle’s bakery in downtown Hodgenville. 

No longer the part-time librarian as our nation entered into a troubling economic depression, Nona Stierle nonetheless was a fervent supporter of the cause, refuting the image portrayed by Selden in 1922 by working diligently to see the dream of a respectable library come to fruition.  Their accomplishment was heralded in the local paper, “Hodgenville. Ky., Feb. 12. 1935 — A long- fostered project of the Ladies' Lincoln League was due to materialize here tonight with the dedication of the new $11,500 Lincoln Memorial Library. A program, in which leading citizens of Larue County planned to take part, was arranged under the direction of Mrs. D. B. Munford. president of the league. Entertainment on the program includes singing by a double quartet consisting of Mesdames C. B. Funk. LaRue, Clara Walther, Nona Stierle. Dr. Shacklette. Ollie Lyons, J. R. Wil-son and Edward Elliott, and a solo whistling number by Mrs. Hugh Fulkerson.”

 Prior to coming to Hodgenville, Nona Blandford had married George H. Stierle (3 JAN 1879- 7 JUNE 1921) in Grayson County. George was a baker by profession and had established a shop in Leitchfield where the family resided in 1910.  For reasons unknown, but perhaps due in part to the early death of their young son, the couple, along with their daughter Sarah and Nona’s mother came to Hodgenville in 1912 to operate a bakery here.  The couple had 6 children, they being Anna Mae (1912-1993), George Jr. (1910-1911), Helen (1914-1987), Martha (1917-1966), Winona (1919-2002), & Sarah (1908-1974), all of whom, but for baby George, were reared in the Methodist Church family at Hodgenville.  Of all the children, the best remembered and loved was surely “Miss Sarah”, their eldest child.  Never married, “Miss Sarah” was the surrogate mother to hundreds of LaRue County children during her memorable career as an elementary school teacher.  The entire family rests today in Red Hill Cemetery.

George Stierle’s life was cut short prematurely, but as mentioned his widow Nona continued to run his bakery which she expanded to incorporate our fledgling County Library.  George, the son of Rudolph Theodore Stierle Sr. and Marie Magdalena, was in reality named Heinrich George, having been born in Baden-Württemberg, Germany and emigrating from there with his parents, four brothers & two sisters on the S. S. Trave, arriving in New York at 26 April 1889. The family made its way to Louisville by 1910, where Theodore worked as a cabinetmaker making church furniture.  It might be surmised that George was trained in Germany as a baker.  Surely Lutheran by birth, it seems rationale that he would make the conversion to Methodism. 

By the time of that 12th Feb 1935 dedication of the then recently renamed Lincoln Memorial Library (a name that seems to have come into use in the early 1930s as a part of the fundraising campaign of the League), the sting of humiliation from that New York journalist had turned shame into community pride.  13 years and $11,500 later, the ladies of the League were proud to open a brand new, modern library boasting 5,000 volumes, a vast increase from the scant few books on those borrowed bakery shelves back in 1921. 

The Great Price for Freedom; A Civil Rights Martyr from Kentucky

I don't normally like to borrow from others for my posts, but sometimes there is no need to write something over gain.  Presented here is a brief but comprehensive biography from Wikipedia & Bhamwiki of one of LaRue County, Kentucky's most important, and forgotten, Black leaders, Robert Benjamin. He was a grand master of the Kentucky African-American organization "United Brothers of Friendship" and likely started the lodge here in Hodgenville for this and its sister lodge of the "Mysterious Ten." How and why Benjamin made contacts in LaRue County remains a mystery, but his is a fascinating story. 

"Robert Charles O'Hara Benjamin (born March 31, 1855 on Saint Kitts, West Indies; died October 2, 1900 in Lexington, Kentucky) was a novelist, attorney, orator and newspaper publisher who founded the Negro American in Birmingham in the 1880s. Benjamin was enrolled at public school on Saint Kitts and continued to study with a private tutor in England. He was enrolled at Trinity College, Oxford for three years before leaving the university to voyage to the East Indies. After two years he returned to England, then soon set sail for the United States, arriving April 13, 1869 in New York. After ten days he found a berth as cabin boy on the Lepanto, sailing to Venezuela, Guayana and the West Indies. When he returned to New York in the Fall, he decided to remain.

Benjamin was immediately active in public affairs and befriended abolitionist Henry Highland Garnet. He was employed by Joe Howard, Jr of the New York Star as a solicitor. There he became acquainted with Progressive American editor John J. Freeman and joined that publication as city editor. After leaving that paper in 1876, he campaigned in New York on behalf of Republican candidate for President, Rutherford B. Hayes. He was awarded for his efforts with a post as a letter carrier, but left that job after a few months to accept a teaching position in Kentucky.

Benjamin began to read law with a set of books borrowed from former Representative William B. Read in Hodgenville and with the help of then county attorney Dave Smith. He continued to study while serving as an assistant to W. H. Mixon, principal of a high school in Decatur, Alabama. After that he moved to Arkansas, and then to Memphis, where he completed his law study under Josiah Patterson and was admitted to the bar in January 1880.

While in Memphis, Benjamin also delivered occasional sermons. He was described by local schoolteacher Ida B. Wells after one such sermon as, "a very slender, puerile-looking, small specimen of humanity." Later, as corresponding editor for the Nashville-based Free Lance, he adopted the pen name "Cicero" for some of his editorial contributions. He participated in an Afro-American convention in Chattanooga, Tennessee which resulted in a resolution to petition the U. S. Congress to pledge $1 billion "to colonize the colored race in some other country." He also practiced as an attorney intermittently at different stops in his career, and famously won acquittal for a black woman accused of murder in Richmond, Virginia in 1884.

Benjamin's primary activity was the establishment of a series of newspapers across the country, including The Colored Citizen in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and The Chronicle in Evansville, Indiana before he arrived in Birmingham and launched the Negro American in September 1886.
At every stop Benjamin's editorial voice was focused on promoting equal rights for African Americans, following his motto: "My race first and my best friends next." The Negro American was, he proclaimed, "Devoted to the Moral, Intellectual, Industrial and Political Interests of the People." He commented that since blacks made up more than a third of the population of Birmingham, that they should be represented in the city government.

He also preached in the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church and led a Sunday School. He reported pleasure with the improved literacy rate in the school as making it possible to devote more lessons to scripture rather than to the alphabet.

Benjamin described himself as a "chronic disturber of the public peace". His courage in writing about controversial issues exceeded even his peers, and included editorials calling on blacks to arm and defend themselves against lynchings and racial violence that accompanied gains in African American political power during Reconstruction.

Benjamin's outspokenness proved unwelcome in Birmingham. In Spring 1887 he wrote an editorial defending Montgomery Baptist Leader publisher Jesse C. Duke. Duke had mused about, "the growing appreciation of the white Juliet for the colored Romeo," following the lynching of an African American man accused of rape and was forced to flee the state, chased by a mob. In May Benjamin attended a two-day meeting in Selma at which the Alabama Colored Press Association was organized. He was forced to leave Birmingham later that Summer. Benjamin had also served as a secretary for the Colored National Bar Association and Grand Master of the United Brothers of Friendship.

Benjamin moved to the west coast and was hired as local editor for the white-owned Los Angeles, California Daily Sun in 1888. After two years he moved north to San Francisco and founded the California Sentinel there. In California he was elected presiding elder of the state's conference of the African Methodist Episcopal Church. President Benjamin Harrison offered Benjamin a consulate post in Haiti, but he declined in order to continue publishing the Sentinel.

In 1892 he married the former Lula M. Robinson and had two children, a son and daughter. He brought his family to Lexington, Kentucky in 1897 and quickly involved himself in political issues there. In October 1900 he got into an argument Michael Moynahan, a Democratic precinct worker whom Benjamin accused of harassing African American registrants. Afterward Moynahan shot Benjamin in the back, killing him. The presiding judge at the examination accepted Moynahan's claim of self-defense and declined to pursue criminal charges."

Now allow me to fill in just a few gaps.  "Dave" Smith was David Highbaugh Smith, State Representative from Hodgenville and later US Congressman from 1897-1907, as well as President of Farmer's National Bank.  Smith's home, where Robert Benjamin first studied law, still stands on Greensburg Street in Hodgenville.  William Brown Read was a Kentucky Senator and State Representative before becoming a US Congressman in 1870.  Read was a son of LaRue County founder Lewis Read, and a brother to State Militia and Confederate General & Congressman Henry English Read.  The Reads were all members of Hodgenville Methodist Episcopal Church South.  As for the Kentucky-organized "United Brothers of Friendship," this important and early African-American fraternal group had its origins in antebellum Louisville within months of the outbreak of War in 1861. With membership open to Free Black as well as slaves, the group became more known after 1870. While I can't verify this, I feel one of its founders, Philip Williams, had LaRue County ties. And, as you read above, Grand Master Robert Benjamin was a teacher in Hodgenville after the War. Much research is warranted into this lodge in early LaRue County that apparently initiated the Hubbard Cemetery on College Street in Hodgenville as a dedicated, segregated burial site for black citizens of the community.

Greenwood Taylor, the "Other" Abe Lincoln

Kentucky State Senator of the 13th District, Greenwood Alexander Taylor moved to LaRue County in 1893 to practice law after having been Hart County Attorney. He had been born in Hart County 28 July 1851 the son of Abram & Nancy Alexander Taylor. He was descended from President Zachary Taylor of Louisville, KY & Baton Rouge, LA.

Senator Taylor purchased a farm adjoining that of the Lincoln Birthplace far...m, "Sinking Spring", and became widely known in Frankfort as "the Senator from Lincoln Farm" to some and as "Abe Lincoln" to others in the Senate Chambers. He was elected Nov. 1907 as a Republican candidate from LaRue County to represent it and Green & Hart Counties. In light of current controversies, he served on the "Public Monuments" committee while in office.

Senator Taylor enjoyed the hobby of woodworking, and crafted gavels out of wood from the Lincoln birthplace which he gave to varied leaders and officials in public office. He was as well a Master Mason. The image presented here was taken in 1907 by Gretter Studio in Frankfort, Ky. Taylor died in Hodgenville 8 Dec. 1911. He was buried in Lot #104 in Red Hill Cemetery.

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.