Muhlenberg County Kentucky
Local History: P
A Sketch of Powderly Past and Present
Part I. Pioneer Days
Not for an instant expecting to win the fame of Scott, who wove the tales and traditions learned when a boy at his grandmother's knee, into the most wonderful of all novels, or even thinking that the render of this simple sketch will derive the pleasure from its perusal that was mine as I listened to the tales, tinged by the glamour of romance and tradition, of which it is composed, but knowing that the only way to preserve the traditions, and facts connected with the foundation of any hamlet or city, is in a printed form, and believing that the perusal of the incidents as related in the following sketch will help the reader to pass off a few moments of the winter's gloom in as commendable a manner as that of social conversation are my sole excuses for writing.
A hundred years ago the village known as Powderly was unheard of. Trackless forests then met the eye instead of muddy streets; the dinner horn was heard instead of the mine whistle, and a “woodsy” odor filled the air instead of the fumes of sulphur. Swiftly the seasons have come and gone since then, each bringing its changes, still the hills which shelter the village remain almost as they were when the red man received inspiration from their beauty and sublimity. Time has only made more luxuriant the wild vines which climb there in rank profusion and more abundant the fragrant flowers which “blush unseen,” save when a merry crowd of young people invades the solemn stillness.
But to the old homes, landmarks of an earlier day, time has only made more complete the works of ruin and decay which reign there, and more sacred the sites of these homes that have already perished, around which cluster associations [unreadable] of the past. A few old fashioned flowers, a bit of shrubbery, some broken brick and two cedars, now mark the spot where stood until recent years, the oldest house of which anything definite is known. The old Snodgrass brick as it was called has long been a familiar object to the traveler of the Greenville and Central City road. It was built by one John Reno of Virginia, who with his wife crossed the Blue Ridge, in 1807. He was a school teacher, but why he left his early home and came to this undeveloped country is a mystery. He taught school at Nelson Creek and at the old Belle school house, long since fallen in ruin. His wife died shortly after their arrival. Lonely indeed must have been the life of that old pioneer, of whom so little is known, when not engaged in training the young idea to shoot.
At that time the Indian's hunting ground was not bereft of its game; squirrels played in the trees, “the wild fox dug his hole unscared and the rank thistle nodded in the wind.” The incidents which led to the arrival of Eli Fortney from Virginia also, who settled the old Fortney place, three miles east of Powderly, are more romantic than the imaginary romance produced by the average novelist. Going back into the history of Virginia, the story begins when one Major Scott of revolutionary fame was in the war. At intervals during the major's absence, he sent money to his wife at home. As it was not always convenient for her to go to the office and get the money in person, a friendly neighbor kindly offered his services, which were accepted. He got the money but kept it himself. In all he stole about $1800. He went into business as a merchant with the money, but possibly fearing detection, he sold the store and invested the money in four tracts of land in Kentucky, two of which were on the Big Clifty, and the other two in what is now Muhlenberg county. Major Scott was an industrious man himself, and was a firm believer in manual labor. His broad fields in Virginia after the war required a great deal of physical work. People were not surprised that when his daughter Cynthia ran away and married Eli Fortney, a well educated young wan though not such en enthusiast of physical labor, his anger was great. He would not help the newly married couple financially or in any way; his daughter had married against his will and would have to abide the result. Now Cynthia was a more industrious girl than those of today, whose sole ambition seems to be to dress well and look pretty, laugh and talk, and to “catch a beau” with plenty of money. She had made featherbeds and quilts in plenty, but as her presence could not darken the door of the old plantation home, her belongings were useless to her while there. Although she was forsaken by her father, there were two sisters at home who had her interest in mind, so one night when all was still they slipped some of the quilts and one of the feather beds out and carried them a distance of two miles to the home of their sister. Such devotion, such heroism. Imagine those two girls all alone in the dark night, burdened with such a load, and all for the love they bore the forsaken sister. Time probably softened the feelings of the major. Anyway, when he obtained possession of the land which the thief had purchased with his stolen money he told his daughter that if she and her husband would come to Kentucky and live on the land he would give them one of the tracts. Ben Scott, a son of the major decided to come also, as his father had given him one of the tracts of land. The exact date of their departure is not known, but the mode of travel was very different to that of today, so the party came on flat boats down the Ohio river. Ben Scott and his wife took the land, a part of which is now Oakland coal mines, near Powderly. They built a house on it and lived there. The old well is still used, and until recent years the log house was standing, on account of lack of information, the remaining history of this family will have to be given at a later time.
Eli Fortney and his wife took the tract of land still farther toward Central City; it comprised 170 acres. He built the house known as the Old Fortney place, which can still be seen through the shrubbery, from the Greenville and Central City road. Mr Fortney went to his father's home in Virginia on a visit once, but his wife never went back or saw any of her father's people again. Thirteen children were born to this remarkable union, six of whom are living. The parents lived to see all of their children grown and married. Mrs Fortney died at the age of 84 years and her husband was 88 years of age when he was called by the Grim Reaper. The Fortneys were of Dutch descent and the Scott'ps were Scotch. Inheriting the strength of mind and body from such parents it is small wonder that some of the wealthiest and most prominent citizens of Muhlenberg county are descendants of that couple who braved the dangers of travel in the early days of Kentucky's history, and with untiring energy overcome the difficulties of pioneer life.
The next additions to this vicinity were W.M. Eaves and wife, formerly Susan Cook. In an old leather bound Bible still in the Eaves family this record is yet legible, though yellowed with age, Born, Susan Cook, Feb. 14, 1788; W.M. Eaves, Aug. 12, 1787. Of the early history of this family little is known; however they came to this country from North Carolina when their first child who was born in the year of 1815 was still an infant. Just where they located is not known, but one son William Eaves met, loved and married Christine Fortney, a daughter of the aforesaid Fortney's. They bought the old Redman farm the history of which has been lost in oblivion, save that John Redman was a Methodist preacher, and that his wife died before he left this country. Whether his forefathers were really red men, and he inherited the land from them is not known. The house was an imposing structure two and one-half stories high, a commodious building for that day, and to it Mr Eaves and his bride moved. It stood near the present Eaves graveyard, which at that time contained the single grave of Mrs. Redman. The house was said to have been haunted, a chilly mysterious presence seemed at times to keep guard in one of the rooms upstairs. Mr Eaves lived there for many years, but at last sold the house and 100 acres of land to Calvin Gyle for the sum of $1300. While some negroes who had rented the house were living there, it burned. So today all that remains of the haunted house, is a mound of crumbled rocks and sand, surrounded by rank blackberry bushes. What fancies, what visions throng through mind, as one stands in silence and views the site of an old building, then in imagination if not reality, the picture of a long dead past is complete; the mental vision is peopled with these who are no more, again ruddy cheeked children clad in homespun sit before the wood fire, popping corn or roasting nuts in the ashes, as they listen to their parents tell of another land than this. The mental curtain is drawn still further aside, and a youth and maiden are telling the old, old story, though new, in the flickering light of the blazing backlog. The mental curtain falls and one realizes that those are scenes, which will never be enacted in this vicinity again.
Though this sketch of the pioneer days of Powderly is very meager and incomplete, the reader will have to depend entirely on his imagination for the history of the people for the fifteen years following the arrival of W.M. Eaves in 1815. That no other settlers came during that period is probably due to the fact that the war of 1812 had just closed, and the men from Kentucky and Tennessee who fought so bravely, had returned to their homes, and were well content to stay there.
Part II. War Days
Just after the memorable “era of good feeling” had passed, when Jackson was having his war on the United States Bank, and South Carolina was threatening to nullify the tariff acts, it seems that a spirit of restlessness reigned throughout the country, its influence was felt in the vicinity of Powderly for people moved by that spirit or in search of adventure began to settle there. The first to come was one John Salmon and wife, formerly Elizabeth Robinson. They came from Virginia about the year 1830 and settled what is known as the Quisenberry place. John Salmon was a devoted church member, and attended the monthly meetings at Hazel Creek church. In the year of 1840 he sold the place to James Quisenberry and went to Missouri. Mr Quisenberry was originally from Virginia, but came to this county from Christian county. He had two children Erskine and Sarah Catherine by his first wife formerly Jane Garnett, who died before he came to this county. Soon after his arrival here he married again, one Mary Cisney; by her he had one child, Robert, who died at the age of sixteen. Mr Quisenberry built a new house on the farm nearer by two miles to Powderly than the old one which has long since gone to ruin. It still stands, a reminder of the antebellum days, a crevice in the old rock chimney made by the slave cook, sharpening her knives, is still visible. When court was in session at Greenville this commodious home was well filled with people who had come from a distance, and could not make the trip in one day. Erskine Quisenberry married Margaret Davis in 1867. He lived on the old place which at that time comprised about 200 acres. To this union were born seven children, some of whom are still living, as well as many others they reared their five children to manhood and womanhood still [unreadable] architecture by its disregard of time. The genuine southern hospitality for which Kentucky is noted, was never wanting in that home. The children who often went there from the mines on errands, were sure to carry away pleasant memories, as well as cookies, candy, popcorn, pretty cards or some little gift from the kind hostess.
Sarah Catherine Quisenberry married Dr. R.C. Frazier in 1850. He came to this county from Christian a few years prior to that time. The Frazier family is an old one, and their family history can be traced back many generations to their native shores, immortalized by that wonderful poet who sang “In Simple Scottish Lays.” The spacious country home built by Dr. Frazier and occupied by himself and wife, who was noted for her industry and liberality, while the doctor was known far and near on account of his medical skill and successful practice. Those two people whose kindness, hospitality and industry made such a lasting impression in the circles in which they moved, have long since passed into the great unknown. Their son R.E. Frazier, and his family now live at the old homestead.
Another well known land mark is the old Cisney home. It was built by Robert Cisney in 1845 who was an “old bachelor” but in the course of time, he fell a victim to Cupid's charms, and surrendered his heart and hand to Angeline Calvert, originally from Maryland. She was a descendant of Lord Cecil Calvert, and it is said that a rich inheritance awaits the many descendants of this couple, but they - one recently, the other long ago - received their inheritance in a world where ancestry is unknown. In recent years the old homestead was purchased by the Greenville Coal Co. Near it stands one of the highest hills in Muhlenberg county. It has long been known as the Cisney Mountain; from its summit, cozy little cottages nestling among the trees, gently sloping hills, stretching away to the horizon and broad low meadows smiling at the blue above, can be plainly seen, while far away through the town of Greenville with her magnificent court house in silhouette, reaching far above the surrounding homes is visible. Indeed the pedestrian, he is a lover of nature, though he will be wearied with the scramble through briars and over rocks, will be more than repaid for his trouble when he stands on the summit of Cisney Mountain and views the varied landscape. Tradition says that the mountain was the burying ground of the Indians, and some people think they had treasures buried there, also. A story is told of two laboring men who went in search of the hidden treasures of the Indians. After a morning spent on the mountain in the search, they resumed, but did not work anymore. Whether they found the treasure, thereby securing wealth enough to maintain themselves without work, or had “hit it lucky” elsewhere, is not definitely known. Be that as it may, the mountain bears evidence that it has been inhabited by the Indians; numerous arrows have been found there, and an Indian pipe was picked up by some boys, on an exploring trip several years ago. But whether the red men met there to smoke the pipe of peace, or to make the final preparations for the entrance of their dead into the Eternal Hunting Grounds, will probably never be known.
Harvey Snodgrass was among the settlers who came, in the period between 1840-60 [1851-54]. He married a Miss Rachel Price of Virginia, and came to this county shortly afterwards. He bought the Reno brick house, mentioned in Part 1 of this sketch, and lived there until his death. The hill in front of the house has long been known as the Snodgrass Hill. Four daughters of this union still survive, and many descendants.
One of the largest plantations at this time was that of Buckston Harris. He came from Tennessee to Christian county in 1848. A few years later he came to Muhlenberg and purchased 200 acres of land from one Mr Luckett. There were fifteen cabins on the plantation [unreadable] sheltered [unreadable] forty or fifty negroes, some of whom were given to his wife, Sarah Bradley, by her parents before she left with her husband for Kentucky. Mr Harris was a great prohibitionist and went to congress on that ticket. He was afterwards defeated. Eleven children were born to this union, all of whom are dead except S.B. Harris of Central City, and H.H. Harris of Kansas City, Mo. The old home of the Harris's burned long ago, but Clayton and Clyde Waters, whose mother was a daughter of Buckston Harris, now owns the estate. They have built new homes, also a store, there.
Some of the neighbors of Mr Harris in Tennessee hearing of his success in Kentucky, resolved to try their fortunes in the new territory, so in February, 1860, a party of fifteen, consisting of John Bransford, wife and five children; John Day and wife; Barton Weatherford, wife and four children, started. As there were no railroads in this country, they came through in wagons, bringing a small amount of their household goods. They stopped on the road to do their cooking; many interesting incidents happened on their journey, which was a pleasant one to nearly all the members. But some of the party who had left good farms were very much disappointed in Kentucky and longed for the hills of Tennessee. John Bransford was the first to die. His wife, saddened by the loss of her husband, never became reconciled to her new surroundings. She was a well read woman of a poetic temperament, and as the deeper emotions often find expression in the form of poetry, the pent-up longings of her soul burst forth in this strain.
Oh! Oh! Give me back my native hills,
Rough, ragged, though they may be,
No other land, no other clime
Is half so dear to me.
In a few years she joined her husband in that land of Spirits where no homesick longings are known. Of the five children only one survives, Mrs M.E. Oldham, who still owns part of the old farm. The Bransford name is a very old one: a detailed history of the family was written several years ago. The South has numerous families bearing that name, all probably descendants of the very first John Bransford who landed in Virginia early in the seventeenth century.
Barton Weatherford lived but a short time after his arrival. One son, Sam Weatherford, married Susan Eaves, whose beauty was typical of Kentucky. Her picture brings exclamations of wonder from those who behold the almost perfect face whose soulful eyes gaze on them from the lifeless canvas. He lived at the house built by his father, a part of which is still standing, back of the present home of Francis Withers. There were only two children left of this union, one Mrs G.J. Fleming who lives at Powderly, the other Mrs K. Withers who died in 1899. Only two of that party of fifteen are alive today, John Day, and Mary Oldham.
About this time Perry Clemons moved from South Carrolton [sic] and built a home near the Fortney place on the Greenville and Central City road. The house has long since gone to ruin but a nearby hill is still known as the Clemons Hill. The descendants of Mr and Mrs Clemons are scattered over the country and many of them are prominent citizens. Travel in those days was on horseback or in buggies, and the mail was carried from Owensboro to Greenville. One of the Fortney boys was carrier at one time, but a great change was coming. The first year of the war also marked the commencement of the building of the E&P railroad through this county. Hume Harris was one of the contractors, and his crew made the “cut” just north of Powderly. The work was done with teams and dump carts. The other contractors were Podinger and Wilson. The engineers were Chambers, Cobb, LaTrobe and Wagoner. The old “darkie” that cooked for these men is living yet, though feeble with age. She was a slave of Jake Anthony of whom little is known save that he was a kind master. It is said that before his death he called for paper and pen with which to free his slaves, but the hand was lifeless before the deed was done, and today his grave, marked by a quaint slab, bearing this inscription. “Sacred to the memory of Jacob Anthony who departed this life in 1812, aged ____ years” is a familiar object to those who frequently pass the home of Tom Mitchell on the Harris farm, near the cedars which mark the site of the old graveyard.
The war days were trying ones in the thinly settled vicinity, nearly all of the aforementioned inhabitants were true Southerners, and when the Federal soldiers passed they took several fine horses and made some of the women cook for them, but when the Confederate soldiers camped on the Weir farm near Caney creek, the Bransfords, Weatherfords, Fraziers, and those living nearest the encampment prepared supper and sent it to the soldiers, and then the women cooked all night that they might not start on their march without breakfast. Sad were the people indeed, when they heard the low thunder of the cannon at Ft. Donaldson, all day and night, as that was a death warrant, as it were sounded.
Harvey Snodgrass was in the war [unreadable] at its close. Though there was no blood shed near, there was gloom throughout the country. The year before the war closed Bill Eaves built what is known today as the Old Eaves place. Help was so hard to secure at that time that he cut the logs himself and in one week had the house built. By great effort he secured brick enough from the old Weir mill on Caney creek to make a chimney. Some Jernigan men from a different neighborhood helped him at the “raisin'.” The house has been improved and is today occupied by the widow, formerly Christine Fortney, alluded to, in Part I. On Jan. 12, 1911, she passed her 82nd birthday. Mrs Eaves was the mother of six children three of whom are living, Charlie, Levi and Eli. The others, girls, have long since passed to another land.
Many years ago a man was murdered on the ridge between the Eaves homestead and the old Redman place and the place has been haunted ever since, so tradition says. It is claimed, that the headless body has been seen on the ridge, but whether he is like Irving's Headless Horseman, only time will tell. It would be an interesting experiment for some young matter-of-fact Kentuckian to keep vigil near the present Eaves graveyard, some night when the moon casts flickering shadows and the wind shrieks through the woods, and find out if the Headless one still inhabits his old haunts. One noticeable characteristic of all the early homes is that they are all marked by cedars, which stand live sentinels guarding the spot made sacred by its association with the long ago. Whether the cedars were planted by loving hands for beauty's sake or were already there, and in mercy left unmolested, or were brought from the original home of the owned, to keep the memory of the past ever green, is a mystery, however, every old homestead place bears the memorable cedar. There are many old homes and sites of homes around Powderly which have not been mentioned in this sketch on account of insufficient data. For twenty years after the war closed the settlers unmolested lived the peaceful, happy life of a farming people.
Part III Powderly, a Mining Town
The real birthday of Powderly was March 17th, 1887, when a band of men commenced the opening of a coal mine near the railroad two miles north of Greenville. This enterprise was a novel one; each man put in $25, those who did not posses that much in money, gave the sum in work. The site was at that time known as the Irwin farm, and was purchased for $650. John D. Longest was the first president of the coal company, and the following are some of the stockholders: Geo. Miller, Francis, Theodore, and Malachi Withers, Robert Whinnie, William Shrum, Al Shrum, Dick Mercey, Oliver Perry Hill, John Tennant, William Summers, James Roberts, Jack Spargo and Lewis Hunter.
The village was named in honor of T.V. Powderly, who was before the public at that time as a leader in the great labor question.
Neat cottages were built by the miners who brought their families there to live, though nearly all of them came from different localities, they soon became acquainted, and all lived in harmony. There were very few “young folks” if any in the settlement, and the social conditions were very limited, now and then a dance would be given at some of the homes; it was conducted in a quiet orderly fashion, and served to bring the people together, for there was little to break the monotony of their lives. The dances became less frequent, the parents were deeply interested in bringing up their fast-growing children in the best way they knew how. A neat school house on a nearby hill was soon finished and in 1890 many of the children from the mining village attended their first school. As “first impressions are the most lasting,rdquo; it must be said of that first teacher, Miss Bettie Pace, that she was a true one, for many of the pupils from that school, today occupy prominent positions in life, and nearly if not all, are honest, noble, and trustworthy men and women.
A Sunday school was organized at the school house, which was well attended. How eagerly the little folks waited for Sunday to come, when they would go with their father and mother, too, sometimes, to the school house on the hill and there learn the old, old story. Plans were soon made to build a church; the good women of the place solicited funds, they were assisted from every direction, almost. Many of the miners thinking it was to be a union church, gave large sums of money to aid in the cause, but when the church was finished, a large, well constructed building, it was dedicated as a Presbyterian church. This was a great disappointment to many; however they made the best of it, and with a regular preaching day, and Sunday school every Sunday, the village started on her upward trend. The men worked long and late at the mines, yet some of them were never too tired at night to delve deeply into the histories of ancient times or read for hours and hours the master-pieces of literature. Is it any wonder that in such homes as these sturdy, manly boys, and studious, modest girls grew to noble manhood and womanhood.
In almost every hamlet or locality of few years' standing, there is some characteristic peculiar to that particular people. In this instance it seems that a certain peaceful, dream like repose, hovered over the village, like that so ably described by Irving in Rip Van Winkle, the people lived the quiet simple life, the only true life. With the purchase of Powderly by the Greenville Coal Co. there began a change. Nearly all of the former stockholders sold their homes as well as their interest in the mines, and moved away, some to other states, while a few remained near their native haunts. The vacant homes were soon filled with people from different places. A row of ten “box” houses, known as “Oklahoma Row”, was built north of Powderly proper to accommodate the negroes. There on summer evenings the soft dreamy music of guitar or banjo could be heard while “the curly headed pickaninnies played around the little cabin door” and the older children engaged in sports on the village green.
The social life of the village changed also, there were a “goodly” number of grown up boys and girls but their form of amusement was the play-party instead of the dance. Such games as Chase the Buffalo, Susie in the Ring, Dan Tucker, Laugh and Go Foot, The Girl I Left Behind Me, Eight in the Center, Snap, Scat and many others were played until early bedtime, then the gallant swain escorted his lady fair to her home. Usually some other member of her family was present too. Though shut out as it were from the outside world, and the contaminating influence of city life those girls were very different to those of today. It would be hard indeed to find better women, morally, mentally, and physically, than those who have spent the formative period of their lives within the shelter of rural homes far from the “maddening glare.” Many the time love's sweet story has been told in Powderly but the weddings which followed were private affairs usually occurring at the bride's home or that of some nearby minister, except in one instance, when the ceremony that gladdened two hearts was solemnized at the church, which was well-filled with witnesses. The “chivaree” which was sure to follow the wedding, however private, was a public announcement. With few exceptions the wedded ones lived happily together, divorces were almost unknown, for &rldquo;with secret course which no loud storms annoy, flows the smooth current of domestic joy.” As nearly all of the Presbyterian church members had moved away, the church was left uncared for and unused save by the birds, which in great numbers, built their nests in the cupola and by the children who frequently passed through the ever open door, to play. Occasionally, some of the older girls would stop there from their evening walk and in the dim light sing and play the simple songs they knew. After a few years the church was bought by the Christian denomination, to which it still belongs. Several ice cream suppers were given to help secure funds to repair the building. A Baptist church was organized in 1909 and work on the commodious new building is being rushed. The ladies of the Baptist church have organized an “aid society” and are doing splendid work.
This sketch would not be complete without some allusion to that man whose ennobling influence is still felt in Powderly, Frank Long, who came there from Butler county in 1898 and built up a school equal to if not better than any in the county. He organized a brass band for the young men, he was a leader in church work, in fact, any worthy cause received his earnest support. He kindled the fires of enthusiasm in the minds of his pupils and led them on to see the possibilities of a greater future. To such a mind, such a will as his, nothing seemed impossible, but his physical being was not strong enough to hold for long the prisoned soul which struggled for the holy and pure in this life, and on Sunday, September 13, 1903, that soul returned to Him who gave it. In the death of this man Powderly lost the one who had done more for her elevation and upbuilding than any other.
The mines at Powderly today produce more coal than ever before. A new opening has been made, in which modern methods and up to date machinery are used, many new houses have been built, yet with its population of some 500 there is but one store except that owned by the coal company. There is not a milliner's shop or doctor's office in the village. The free school is only in session six months, and then without any music teacher. However the easy accessibility of Greenville and Central City help to fill these deficiencies. The village still retains to some extent its former peaceful simplicity, though occasionally slight quarrels have occurred, and one death was caused from an explosion in the mines. Except for these things and the gossip which is sometimes afloat, there is but little of importance to break the monotony or harmony of the lives of those living in that village sheltered by the hills. Such is the life story, past and present, of Powderly.
In conclusion let me add. Many people seem to have the erroneous idea that the miners are a semi-barbarous people. Far from it indeed, many of them earn more than $100 per month and have all the necessities of life and many of its luxuries. It is not so much what particular work a man does, as the life he leads, that counts, and just as true, just as loyal hearts beat 'neath the coal dusted clothes in the darkened recesses of the earth's bosom as those which throb 'neath immaculate vests and swell dress suits on its surface.
Source: Longest, Amy. “A sketch of Powderly: Past and Present. In Three Parts.” Record [Greenville, KY] 2-16 Mar 1911, p. 2.
Contributed by Mary K. Marlatt
Updated July 14, 2022