» April 10th, 2013
Seeing Red
Linda Burton posting from Frankfort, Kentucky – They must eat a lot of Wheaties in Louisville, Kentucky. At least that’s what I thought, as I watched a raving waving sea of cheering red on TV tonight. Louisville is almost 50 miles west of Frankfort, but I can hear the noise clear over here. What’s going on? The University of Louisville Cardinals men’s basketball team came home from Atlanta yesterday with an 82-76 win over Michigan, that’s what, making them the NCAA National Champions for 2013. And what’s more, the Lady Cards just returned from New Orleans with a women’s second place; yes, well, those UConn Huskies pulled it out again. So who’s crying? Nobody! It’s a celebration of what can happen when you “go for it,” and from 
what I learn that seems to be the norm at U of L. Since the year 2000 the Cardinals have gone to basketball’s Final Four three times and the Lady Cards twice; as to football, U of L claims an Orange Bowl win in 2007 and a Sugar Bowl in 2013; the guys have gone to the College Baseball World Series and won the National Soccer Championship in 2010. The gals have three Big East Tournament championships for volleyball and four Big East titles for track and field. All in all, there are 13 women’s and 10 men’s teams that participate in the Big East Conference (though they’ll be switching to the 
Atlantic Coast Conference in 2014). The men’s basketball program is the most profitable NCAA program in the country; it ranks 5th in NCAA Tournament wins and 5th in annual attendance; the women’s basketball team broke the Big East paid attendance records in 2008 when they defeated U of Kentucky at Freedom Hall. But sports doesn’t get all the recognition at U of L. » read more
» April 8th, 2013
An April Afternoon
Linda Burton posting from Frankfort, Kentucky – Where can you find statues honoring Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis in the same room? The answer is the rotunda of the state capitol in Frankfort, Kentucky. The bronze statue of Abraham Lincoln stands 14 feet high; his hand rests on a chair; the toe of his shoe, which protrudes slightly from the marble base, is worn to a shine from the hands of admiring passersby. The Lincoln statue occupies the center of the rotunda; just beyond his right shoulder, against the towering marble wall, stands the statue of Jefferson Davis; not nearly so grand in scale or position, yet in keeping with statues of others honored in the space 
that welcomes all to the Kentucky capitol. “Kentucky played a pivotal role in the Civil War,” I read in the brochure I’d picked up at the front desk. “Both the President of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis (1808-1889), and Union President Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865) were born in Kentucky. The war that pitted state against state and brother against brother was perhaps best represented in Kentucky as portions of the state 
supported the efforts of the Confederacy while others supported the efforts of the Union.” (Kentucky was a “border state” during the war; one of four slave states that never seceded; Delaware, Maryland and Missouri were the others). I leaned against the wall to get my bearings and noticed a young boy by the Lincoln statue, hand resting on top of the pedestal. Was he part of a school group? “I’ll bet he just rubbed the toe for luck,” I smiled, as I began to study the brochure. There were three floors to explore, housing all three branches of Kentucky state government. I stared at the opulence above my head; it made me think of France. » read more
» April 5th, 2013
Liquid Corn
Linda Burton posting from Frankfort, Kentucky – “It was used for medicinal purposes,” Fred answered. “It’s been said there were more sick people in Kentucky during prohibition years than at any other period of time.” This brought a laugh from the group; twenty people gathered for the beginning of a tour of Buffalo Trace, a Frankfort bourbon distillery that’s been in business over 200 years. Fred had told us it was a continuous operation “even during Prohibition,” so of course I asked how they got permission from the federal government to stay open. “The doctor wrote out a prescription and you dropped by to pick up your pint,” he continued. Ah, so people were after its “curative” properties! Bourbon whiskey is, by definition, mostly corn, Fred 
continued, and I visualized the rows of corn my Granddad planted; his cornfield stretched all the way from the house to the railroad track. “Don’t put the water on to boil till you head out the door to pick the corn,” Granddad would say, when corn-on-the-cob season finally arrived; he believed it had to be that fresh to be good. So I grew up with corn, the juiciest, sweetest, most delicious vegetable God ever created. And easy to grow. That’s why American pioneers (British-French-German-Irish-Scottish-Welch) planted it as they moved westward across the Alleghenies after the Revolutionary War, into 
the vast open farmlands that eventually became Kentucky. The soil was rich, the sun was warm, and the corn grew. Now think about it – how much corn can you eat, or feed to your animals, and then, how much corn can you sell? Roads were bad back then; shipping was costly, and timing was a factor. Turn it into a liquid; that was the profitable answer. And so bourbon whiskey was born. » read more
» April 4th, 2013
It’s All In Stock
Linda Burton posting from Frankfort, Kentucky – “It’s all in stock.” That’s what my grandma used to say when viewing a newborn. If the baby was especially fine-looking, she’d add “Good stock,” and ooo and coo and ask to hold the little one. A really ugly baby had no such luck with Grandma, she’d simply hand a baby gift to the new mama with best wishes. In the car later, she’d express her concern for the baby’s future. “Poor thing, hasn’t got a chance,” she’d fret. “But it can’t help it, it doesn’t come from good stock.” Believing everyone deserves a chance, I’d chastise Grandma, but I never changed her mind. Grandma’s been dead for 30 years, but I swear, she was tapping my shoulder today, saying “I told you so.” I was standing in a horse barn, and Oscar 
was explaining to the five of us the specific details of horse breeding. What is the definition of a thoroughbred horse? I’d never thought to ask before, but here I am, on my 74th birthday, touring a Kentucky horse farm, and that’s just the first new thing I learned today. A thoroughbred horse comes to life, ah, shall we say, naturally; no artifical processes involved. The tourbus had brought us to Airdrie Stud, 2,500 acres of gently rolling, limestone-rich bluegrass land on Old Frankfort Pike, owned by former Kentucky governor Brereton Jones since 1972; where more than 140 
stakes winners and earners of over $80,000,000 have been bred. It’s really cold for April; the grass hasn’t greened up yet; a chilling breeze swept through the barn, but the horses were steaming from their morning bath. These horses are hot all right; Oscar pointed to the chart on the wall; it’s the “appointment schedule” for the day. Three studs had an 8 AM mating; next call is 2 PM. Oscar explained how it’s done. » read more
» April 2nd, 2013
Bewildered, But Never Lost
Linda Burton posting from Frankfort, Kentucky – “I can’t say as ever I was lost, but I was bewildered once for three days.” That line, like so many tales, is attributed to Daniel Boone (1734-1820), whose exact whereabouts and final resting place are not completely substantiated, but heck, you want to believe all the stories you hear, they are so entertaining. Was he a hunter? That part is likely true. Did he live in Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Missouri? West Virginia claims Daniel; in Charleston I visited Daniel Boone Park on the banks of the Kanawha River, and photographed his (alleged) rifle, walking cane, and a 
rock with his name inscribed, all displayed behind glass at the Cultural Center. I drove through Daniel Boone National Forest today, and passed a sign to Boonesborough, just south. Tonight I sleep in Frankfort, Kentucky, one of the places that claims his grave. Did Daniel Boone “kill bar” as is carved in a tree in Tennessee? Did Daniel Boone wear a coonskin cap? He probably killed bear; boys in the 1700’s typically learned to use a rifle at an early age. His father is reputed to have said, regarding Daniel’s 
education “Let the girls do the spelling and Dan will do the hunting.” Daniel was literate, he (allegedly) toted the Bible and Gulliver’s Travels on trips and would read to his traveling companions around the evening campfire. As to that coonskin cap; it is fairly well documented that Daniel was about 5’7” in stature; the image of the tall hunter in the coonskin cap is more likely due to the role played by Fess Parker in the Daniel Boone TV series of the ‘60’s. Fess was a tall man, and wore a coonskin cap in his earlier “frontier man” Davy Crockett role. That is how images are created, you see. Like the Leatherstocking Tales. » read more
» March 30th, 2013
One Two Three
Linda Burton posting from Charleston, West Virginia – Imagine building a house with 333 rooms. When you stand in front of the West Virginia State Capitol, you have to think about that. How did Cass Gilbert do it, back in the early 30’s? More’s the question, how did he manage to finish the monumental project on time, and under budget? It seems he used a simple principle – he broke a huge task into smaller parts; as easy as one, two, three. Cass Gilbert (1859-1934) had a well-established reputation when he was selected to design a capitol for West Virginia. Born in Ohio and educated at MIT, he lived in Minneapolis for many years; he designed a number of buildings there and was commissioned to design the Minnesota State Capitol in 1895. That wow-factored his name so much he moved his operations to New York, where he became a celebrity architect. He designed the Woolworth Building there; it was the world’s tallest building when it 
was built in 1913; his technique for cladding a steel frame became the model for decades. He designed campus buildings in Texas and train stations in Connecticut and the US Supreme Court Building in Washington, DC. West Virginia was in crisis need for a new capitol when the Capitol Building Commission selected Cass Gilbert on July 23, 1921. The West Virginia capitol had mysteriously caught fire and burned beyond use on January 3 of that year; government operations were moved to a temporary building dubbed “the pasteboard capitol.” Cass Gilbert and the Commission began to search for a suitable site for the permanent construction. By the end of December the location was settled and Gilbert began the master plan. » read more
» March 29th, 2013
Story Wisps
Linda Burton posting from Charleston, West Virginia – A good story wisp makes you want to know more. Cemeteries are filled with story wisps; a row of children that died within days of each other – was it a terrible fever that struck? Or an accident? How did a mother manage her grief after such a loss? As I drove through the historic Old Circle section of Spring Hill Cemetery, high on a hill overlooking Charleston, I wondered about the death of Chloe V Fry, buried in her 25th year. Her marker, a beautiful obelisk with handcarved roses at the top, dates to 1830, when her husband James had it erected with these words “that he may record here that she was an affectionate and devoted wife, a kind and charitable neighbor, a watchful and tender mother, a dutiful daughter and a Christian, sincere, resigned, and patient, with the hope that her children may come to it as to the shrine of virtue and resolve ‘to go and do likewise.’” Did those children regularly visit their mother’s grave? Did this symbol of honor and respect color the lives they went on to live? A story wisp. I’d stopped at the cemetery office first to get some history of Spring Hill 
Cemetery; Glenna gave me a map outlining the sections that spread over 150 acres of hills and valleys; 40,000 graves they have recorded, but there are more. It’s listed on the National Register as a Historic Place; the earliest graves go back to 1818; it has been owned by the City of Charleston since 1869. The cemetery tells the history of Charleston, in wisps. Glenna showed me notebooks she is assembling to expand the stories; like me, she is intrigued to know more. I share a few with you. » read more
» March 28th, 2013
Easy In, Easy Out
Linda Burton posting from Charleston, West Virginia – Remember the story I told you last July about the three ways to get to Juneau? The joke was “by boat, by plane, or by birth canal.” I’m reminded of Juneau as I gaze at hilltops from my window in Charleston; no wide-stretched valleys here; the hills are close, with houses perched on top and stair-stepped down the sides. Driveways are steep, unless you live riverside; roads are curved to follow the cut of the river, or the contour of the hills. So how many ways are there to get to Charleston, I asked myself, thinking of the freeway signs that give the choice of I-64, I-77, and I-79. I’ve seen a sign to Yeager Airport, another to the Amtrak station. I’ve heard freight trains, faintly, in the night, and seen barges loaded with coal floating down the river. My GPS has monotoned instructions directing me over three of the five bridges I believe are here; I’m not quite sure. It’s time to go exploring, I decided, and asked the bossy GPS to lead me to that airport. I’m curious to see – an airport on top of a mountain, how can that be? 
And why is it named “Yeager”? Is that Chuck Yeager, and was he born here? I drove down MacCorkle Avenue, crossed the 36th Street Bridge, ramped onto an I-64/77 combo, risked my life to move three lanes right so I could Exit 99; turned right to Highway 114 and up the hill. A sign warned “Yield Ahead;” cut left (but yield, of course) for an ever steepening climb; I made it to the Quick Stop parking lot and pulled into a slot. By the end of the day, I’d have my answers, for sure. » read more
» March 27th, 2013
Everything Old Is New
Linda Burton posting from Charleston, West Virginia – “Our blueberry buttermilk pie is the absolute best,” Jeff said, giving me a nudge towards dessert; I had already polished off my grilled asparagus-bleu cheese sandwich. I settled on a piece “to go,” stating I had a busy afternoon ahead; that’s when the conversation segued into things to do in Charleston, and then, somehow, the New River Gorge. Today Jeff was my server in East End’s Bluegrass Kitchen; on other days, in season, he is a whitewater raft guide with New & Gauley River Adventures. I asked for a card, and I asked Jeff to tell me more about the Gorge. “The New River is misnamed,” Jeff said. “It’s actually the oldest river in the world, or at least the second oldest.” “Just how do you know that?” I asked, with a hint of disbelief in my voice. “Geologists,” he answered. “That’s what they say. It has to do with continental drift and lift and the way the earth has evolved.” Well I can look that up, I thought, and went on to inquire more about the New 
River, and the Gorge. “It has the longest bridge in the world,” Jeff said. Oldest? Longest? I thanked Jeff for the info, and headed out for my afternoon rounds. Tonight, as I ate my blueberry buttermilk pie (absolute best) I spent some time with the World Almanac and confirmed Jeff’s other statements. Fact: the New River Gorge Bridge is the longest single-span steel arch bridge in the western hemisphere. It is 3,030 feet long, 876 feet high, took three years to build, and cost nearly $37 million. And one day a year, people are allowed to jump off it. » read more
» March 26th, 2013
The Citizen Key
Linda Burton posting from Charleston, West Virginia – On the front steps of the West Virginia state capitol is a statue of Abraham Lincoln. It’s a nine-foot bronze, designed by Fred Martin Torrey and installed in 1974. The inscription reads: Abraham Lincoln created the state of West Virginia by proclamation and signature. West Virginia joined the Union June 20, 1863. A woman wearing a bright orange jacket and bright orange shoes walked up just as I was snapping pictures; she had her camera out too. I offered to take her picture beside the Lincoln statue; she declined. “It’s impressive as it is,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll remember I was here.” Faye and I exchanged names; she said she was from Bristol, right on the Virginia-Tennessee line. “I’m wearing my Tennessee orange, did you catch that?” she laughed, pointing to her shoes. 
We chatted about the building in front of us, and the statue. “He looks so sad,” she said. “Do you think he’s upset about making West Virginia a state, or just the war?” I had to admit I didn’t know; in fact, I was unclear on the sequence of events that led to West Virginia’s statehood, although I knew the split from Virginia happened during the Civil War. We walked around the statue, studying it more carefully. On the side of the pedestal were the words Abraham Walks At Midnight from a poem by Vachel Lindsay. Faye and I agreed we needed to beef up our knowledge of West Virginia history. Which I did. And the answer to Faye’s question was “No.” His pose is related to the Lindsay poem written in 1914. Statehood, well that’s another story. » read more