The Sherburne Bridge

We all have those moments in our personal history that stand out.  One of my fondest memories is visiting the town of Sherburne, Kentucky.  Located on the banks of the Licking River, Sherburne was once a very prosperous town that sprawled both the Bath and Fleming County side of the river.  The town's most recognizable feature was the covered bridge.  Here is the story of the bridge, with a bit of personal history added.

 Special thanks to my dad, James Thomas Kiskaden for his never ending inspiration and wealth of information.

Photo courtesy of Rose Publishing Co.

Looking back through Bath County's history, one will notice the importance of the Licking River and its impact on early commerce and trade.  Towns and communities sprang up near the river and helped shape the area's economy in those early days before the railroads and automobiles.  These businesses and communities relied on the river for transporting of goods to other, larger, river port cities along the tributary waters; but roads also had to be built to provide the commercial avenues to cities and towns inland.  Sherburne, Kentucky is located on the Fleming County side of the Licking River, with a few houses and businesses formerly occupying the Bath County shoreline.  The town began with a grist mill operated by Robert Andrews, who was a native of Sherburne, New York; hence, the origin of the town's name.  According to The Kentucky Atlas & Gazetteer, a post office was established as early as 1815 as Sherburne Mills and was incorporated in 1847.  The town's name changed to simply Sherburne in 1879.  Soon after its establishment, the town grew with businesses and residents and became very prosperous.  One very busy trade route was the Maysville/Mount Sterling Turnpike that is now Kentucky Route 11, just across the Licking in Bath County.  Eventually, problems fording the river into Bath County, especially at high stage, prompted the need for a bridge to be built.

Example of the truss system used for the Sherburne Bridge

The construction of the Sherburne Covered Bridge began in 1867 by Issac Kisker and a man only known as Pearce, who did the stone work on the abutments and center pier.  The job cost approximately $3,500 and was completed in 1868.  The bridge was 253 feet long and 14 feet wide, braced with the Howell Truss system, which consisted of a one hundred foot long truss throughout, and a one hundred fifty-three foot span which was suspended by cables.  It was operated privately as a toll bridge and opened a new avenue of travel for horse and buggies, stagecoaches and pedestrians.  As a result, Sherburne became quite a prosperous town.

The Sherburne Bridge as seen from Bath County

At the time of the bridge's hey-day, the Licking River wasn't as tamed as it is today.  Flooding was a major concern, and on a few occasions, the water rose high enough to cause the bridge's owner to knock out side boards to allow water to flow through in an effort to save it from being ripped off the abutments and washed away.  Maintenance was always a never ending process as the years progressed; floor boards would have to be replaced from time to time and siding repaired as the bridged aged.  When automobiles first started appearing, it was apparent that weight restrictions would have to be enforced, so a ten ton limit was set.  Governor Flem D. Sampson signed the Murphy Toll Bridge Act in 1928, allowing the State of Kentucky to either condemn or purchase privately owned covered bridges.  The Sherburne Bridge was bought by the state and continued to serve the area for many more years.  The Great Flood of 1937 threatened to destroy the bridge, but efforts of the town's people prevented much damage.  In fact, it has been said that two men had to be rescued by boat from the top of the bridge after they became trapped by rising waters. 

Travel through the bridge was not for the claustrophobic.  A sign on the entrances warned drivers to illuminate their headlights and sound the horn on their vehicles as they approached.  Imagine driving through a wooden tunnel or a barn for over 200 feet; that about sums up the experience a traveler would have had.  In 1951, the transportation department added reinforcing timbers to the bridge's framework and installed cables down the span, creating a true suspension bridge; the only suspended covered bridge in the world at the time.

View of the suspension system. Photo courtesy of the Traugott Keller collection,(c) 1953

Eventually, the cost of the bridge's continued maintenance and safety considerations became an issue.  Vehicles became wider over time and on a few occasions, scraped the truss work inside the bridge.  A massive rerouting project transformed Kentucky Route 11's curvy hill to a safer, straight road and a new concrete bridge was erected over the Licking River just downstream.  The Sherburne Bridge was closed to vehicular traffic in the early to mid 1970's but it remained a community landmark and foot bridge.

My dad, Tommy, was raised in Sherburne and when I was young, we would visit my great-grandmother, Nona Ensor, who still lived in the town.  The bridge always fascinated me as it was quite an impressive structure to see up close.  I remember walking through it looking in marvel at the large crisscrossed timbers and the massive bolts that had held them in place for over a hundred years.  The floor of the bridge had fallen into some disrepair; some holes had formed and boards had fallen through.  Some carved graffiti adorned the interior, but it wasn't damaged too badly overall.  Dad always told me stories about his childhood and how he and his friends would climb to the top of the bridge and fish.  The last time I was in the bridge was around summer/early fall 1980 when we visited family.

The Sherburne Bridge as it was burning. Taken by the late Russ Metz.

I remember the phone ringing in the middle of the night and mom telling dad that something bad was going on in Sherburne;  It was April 16, 1981.  The caller was a friend of my sister's who lived nearby and she was frantic, saying the bridge was on fire.  Even though I was not quite eight years old, the magnitude of the situation was very apparent.  For years, my dad had taught me the history of the bridge and town he thought so much of and now, part of it was falling into the Licking River as glowing embers.  Several versions of what happened that night have been told, the common tale is that some teenage boys had been fishing and had fallen into the river.  They got out, went into the bridge and set a fire to get warm but the fire got out of hand.  Other theories were that the teenagers had been partying in the bridge and started a bonfire, or that they were upset with someone and intentionally set it.  Whatever the reason, there were no charges brought against the parties involved and a piece of Bath and Fleming County's history was gone.

An iron bolt found the day after the fire.

We went to Sherburne the next day to see the smoldering remains of the bridge.  The steel support system for the suspension cables was still standing, the cables drooped down into the river below.  The stone pier support was still standing in the water with some smoldering remnants of wood on it.  The ground around the bridge down to the river was scorched and the tin roof was scattered along the shore and still in the water below us.  It was a strange feeling, knowing that I had walked through that bridge so many times, and now it was gone.  I found some old square head nails on the ground and picked them up, along with a iron bolt approximately two feet long that was used to secure the truss.  I took the items home and put the nails away, but used the iron bolt for numerous things; being the imaginative kid I was.  That bolt was used as an Army rifle, medieval mace and other various things, but somehow always stayed stashed away in an outbuilding.  In November, 2012, I was watching a show about the covered bridges of Kentucky on the local PBS channel, KET,  and saw that a museum had opened in nearby Flemingsburg that had an area devoted covered bridge history.  After making a few calls, I made contact with the museum's curator and told her I had the iron bolt.  I met with the curator, brought the bolt along with a copy of the only picture I am aware of from the night of the fire, and donated them to the museum; they are on display now for all to see.  The museum is located at 119 Water Street in Flemingsburg, Kentucky and is open Saturdays from noon until 4 p.m.

Over the years, I have stopped in Sherburne many times, usually at the little store that is still there.  My great-grandmother has since passed away, but the house is still standing.  Sherburne is no longer the thriving river community it was, but the residents who still live there have never forgotten its history.  The historical marker that was placed in 1976 still stands at the Fleming County entrance to the bridge and tells a brief, matter of fact history of the great covered bridge that once stood beyond it.  A small brass plate with a picture of the bridge is posted with the historical sign that gives the date the of the fire.

Courtesy of Angel Shrout.

I visited the Bath County side of Sherburne in the summer of 2013 for the first time since the day after the fire.  The buildings have all deteriorated and the entrance to the bridge is now overgrown with dense vegetation.  The stone pier still stands in the middle of the river and the support anchors for the suspension cables are still embedded in the remains of the roadway.  A cable still droops off the stone pier, but from what I could tell, nothing more of the Sherburne Covered Bridge remains.  At the time of this writing, the old roadway on the Bath County side is gated off and can no longer be accessed.  Fleming County celebrates the Covered Bridge Festival every August and a small replica of the Sherburne Bridge is displayed along Kentucky 11, just across the Licking River at the entrance to Sherburne.

The stone pier support as it appears now.

The Bath County entrance, 2013

My dad and I always hold our memories of Sherburne and the bridge dear to us.  I often wonder what if the bridge hadn't burned that night thirty-three years ago; if it would still be maintained as a tourist attraction or left by the wayside like the other buildings.  If you visit the store in Sherburne, there are many pictures from years gone by displayed inside.  For a moment, going in the store takes one back to a simpler time.  For me, it reminds me of being a little blonde haired kid; curiously looking at the inside of a true wonder in Kentucky's history.

For more information about the Fleming County Covered Bridge Museum, go to http://www.kentuckytourism.com/Listing/2035/.

Sources of research for this post are as follows: 

 The Kentucky Atlas & Gazetteer
A History of Bath County, Kentucky by John Adair Richards (c) 1961 Southwest Printers
The Traugott Keller Collection ( http://www.handsomeproductions.com/tfkeller/index.html )
A Pictorial History of Bath County, Kentucky
http://www.washingtonky.com
Ramblings of a Southern Angel  (singedwingangelspad.com)

A Walk Amongst Soldiers....

 This was written and posted on my Facebook page about three years ago.  It chronicles a Sunday walk that turned into a show of respect to those Bath Countians who had paid the ultimate sacrifice during wartime or were veterans of the many conflicts our nation has endured.

On a recent sunny Sunday afternoon, my son TJ and I took one of our usual walks into town.  Not far from our house is the Owingsville Cemetery, a place TJ loves to walk through.  He is fascinated by the grave markers and always asks whose name is on each one as we pass.  The walk around the memorial grounds is calming to me; it is very quiet and a serene there, with a view of the mountains and hills to the East that puts a person in a relaxed mood.  It is also an easy place to walk with the kids; no cars zooming by to worry about, just a leisurely strolling area. Lately, though, I have noticed several grave markers that have fallen over or have cut grass or other debris obscuring the names. Many graves stand forgotten due to their age and ancestors who have passed on or do not live in the area.

While TJ and I were walking, he darted up the hill into a section of old, tall monolithic graves that dated from the early 1800's to the 1920's.  He asked his usual whose name was inscribed, and I noticed one in particular that was a Civil War Veteran.  I brushed off the grass that covered the name and read the inscription, the person buried there was a member of the 14th Kentucky Mounted Rifles, a Confederate unit in the Civil War.  I told TJ that it was a soldier and he was on a mission from there, going from grave to grave looking for soldiers. A short distance away, I found a metal marker face down.  After I turned it over and cleaned it off some, it told of another Civil War Soldier, James Willeroy, who was a Lieutenant with the Northern Virginia Army's 13th Division and was killed in 1862.  The rest of the inscription read, "Will some loving hand please decorate this lonely grave, is the request of his only surviving brother now living in a distant state."  It was at that point I felt some sympathy for the souls buried under this ground I was standing on.  Here this grave marker told of a plea for someone to maintain this site, and it was lying broken on the ground, forgotten in history.  I replaced the marker as best as I could, then moved on.  I was now intrigued and wanted to see just how many more soldiers who had been lost in history lay in the ground around me.  TJ would run over and find a tell tale white marker and ask if the person was a soldier, and after I would come look at the grave, indeed it was.  TJ was getting into the mode I was in, cleaning off the grass and debris along with me.  We found many graves of soldiers from both sides of the Civil War, The Mexican-American War, World War I and II, Korea, Vietnam, and one of the most recent, a soldier from Owingsville who was killed in Iraq in 2007.  TJ and I wandered through the sections of the cemetery cleaning off as many grave sites as we could, I took the time to read what conflict they served in if any and what unit they may have been with.  I found one grave of a sailor who was killed when his aircraft carrier was struck by suicide planes during one of the most famous battles in World War II, I'm sure few know the historical significance etched into that marble stone.

Alfred Crooks III was killed during a Kamikaze raid on the aircraft carrier Saratoga while operating in the Iwo Jima Theater of Operations during World War II. He was among 123 casualties in the attack.

The last place TJ and I walked to was the statue of the Confederate Soldier located almost in the back section of the cemetery.  Since 1907, the soldier has stood watch over his comrades in arms who lie buried around him; a poignant and valiant sight to see.
Each grave marker told a story in history, and told a lonely tale of many who have been lost to history and essentially abandoned.  Granted, during Memorial Day, there are flags put on many of the graves, but I'm sure many are left by the wayside.  Several of the markers have fallen over and broken, or have nearly been buried throughout the years, almost out of sight, out of mind.  I know that now when I take my walks through the cemetery, I will pay more attention to those names on the marble or concrete stones and look for the stories within them; and continue to preserve at least a fraction of the respect these soldiers still deserve by brushing off the stones or attempting to stand a broken stone back on its base.  Maybe if each person who visits their loved one's final place would also take an extra minute to do the same, these soldiers wouldn't be lost to history, it's just an idea ...

The soldier stands guard above his sleeping troops to insure they are not disturbed or harmed during his watch....

Wyoming: Bath County's Forgotten Town

 I was raised on Wyoming Road about a mile from Owingsville's city limits.  The communities along that road are Prickly Ash, Slate Valley, Naylor, Lower White Oak, and Wyoming.  At one time, Wyoming was the central hub for the northeast corner of Bath County.  As a kid, I remember a few houses along Old Wyoming Loop and heard my parents talk about the town that once occupied the open field at the mouth of Slate Creek. Here is a brief history of the town that once was.

If you drive northeast, just outside of Owingsville, Kentucky’s city limits, you will see Kentucky Highway 111, locally known as Wyoming Road. What you won’t see is the town that gave Kentucky Hwy. 111 its local namesake. Approximately seven miles from the beginning of Wyoming Road, a traveler will see, off to the right, a large open field with a barn and a brick house directly across from the intersection with Kentucky Hwy. 1944, locally known as White Oak Road. At one time, in that field, one of Bath County’s earliest and once thriving settlements sprawled at the mouth of Slate Creek.

Wyoming was situated along the banks of the Licking River at the mouth of Slate Creek. The plot of ground was surveyed in 1819 on land belonging to Thomas Deye Owings, for whom Owingsville was named. The following year, the town was platted out, and the Bath County Court appointed Jacob Trumbo, John Trumbo, Isaac Conyers, Archibald Ramsey, William Atchison, and Coleman Smoot as trustees of the town. 

Plat map of Wyoming, 1876.

The original name was Mouth of Slate. The name Wyoming, according to local legend, stemmed from an account from a person who died around 1900 and at that time was 90 years old. The unknown storyteller told that a lone Native American was attempting to cross Slate Creek at a high state, and the early settlers would not help him cross the creek. In apparent anger, the Native American threw his hands up and cried out, “Wyomee,” then stormed away. The settlers had no idea what the word meant, but it eventually stuck at the town’s name. Whether this account is true, it does provide a colorful insight into the town’s origins.

Wyoming’s early days were noted for being rowdy, and it was labeled an outlaw town. This is most likely due to the town being a river town hub in the area. A saloon establishment was operated by Al McClain and was the scene of several typical brawls and friendly exchanges of words. One account tells that Jess Underwood, a native of Carter County, fatally shot George Trumbo during an incident at the saloon. Jess, who was known as a feudist and son of George Underwood, resided at what was locally known in Carter County as “Fort Underwood” at the headwaters of Tygart Creek. He visited family members in the Wyoming area several times between 1860 and 1870, and this incident stemmed from one of Jess’ visits to the town fair. The account says that Jess and another saloon patron had words and a feud resulted. Unfortunately, George Trumbo, an unintended victim, was struck by Underwood’s bullet. Underwood fled to Carter County to avoid a lynching, and several months later was killed when ambushed by members of the Halbrook and Stamper clans, also of Carter County. He was never brought to justice for Trumbo’s death.

Wyoming became a prosperous river town and was at one time one of the industrial hubs of Bath County. In its early days, Wyoming boasted a population of around 300; a hotel, post office, the saloon, at least four grocery and mercantile stores, three blacksmith shops, a carding factory, a grist mill, flour mill, and saw mill. The mills were powered by a stick dam across the Licking River, and the saw mill was the primary employer of the town’s citizens. 

Wyoming also had a ferry that crossed the Licking River into Fleming County. The old roadway leading to the ferry is still intact, but the cross itself has eroded considerably over the years. Early ferry operators were Thomas Barber, Boone Filson, and Frank Calvert. Bruce Snedegar, who was the last ferryman, took over the operation in 1914. In a Lexington Herald-Leader interview circa 1956, Mr. Snedegar, who was approaching his 89th birthday, described life as a ferryman at Wyoming. He said in the article that early in his tenure, he would transport at times more than twenty cargoes across the river per day. The ferry was described as a flat-bed wooden boat which was maneuvered using a 400-foot long guide cable across the river. The operator would have an oar to help guide the ferry, but the water current would be the main source of motivation. Snedegar went on to tell that he went through a total of three boats, one of which was made of steel. He also said that he never lost any cargo, even during flood stages that occasionally reached 35 feet. One incident he related was that the ferry broke loose from the guide wire and drifted three miles before he could control it. The ferry toll was fifty cents per vehicle or horse and became a lucrative business for Snedegar until the advent of the automobile. Business began to slow around 1925 and further declined when Ky. Rt. 32 from Flemingsburg to Morehead was built. Bruce Snedegar retired the ferry in 1950 and passed away in 1962 at the age of 94. Today nothing more remains of the once thriving ferry service.
Early trade items were brought in by ox cart or mule teams from Maysville, the closest railroad spearhead city through Flemingsburg or Grange City. The Licking River was the other obvious route, and at times it was said that hundreds of rafts would anchor at Wyoming. The modernization of paved roads and automobiles would prove to be the end of such transportation, much like the end of the ferry service. 

The Wyoming Ferry, early 1900's.

Wyoming, in addition to being an industrial town, was also very politically inspired. The town was one of the first established voting precincts and was strongly Republican. One interesting account of the political life of Wyoming tells of John Gudgell, a strong Democrat, and Odd Rogers, a devout Republican. The pair often had heated exchanges, and on Election Day, 1876, the citizens of Wyoming were treated to an all-out brawl in the streets. Wyoming was like the rest of Kentucky, considered neutral during the Civil War, however, retained a strong Southern sentiment. During the war, in the vicinity of Wyoming, Federal troops captured and hanged Thomas Dawson for refusing to disclose the whereabouts of a Confederate sympathizer. Dawson was cut down soon afterwards and survived the ordeal. This was the only documented occurrence of Civil War activity in Wyoming or the surrounding area.

Another violent point in Wyoming and Bath County’s history was the War for Free Turnpikes. Prior to November 1896, counties were limited with power to levy taxes for roadways. The solution was to authorize private citizens to organize toll roads, or turnpikes. These toll roads were governed by corporations headed with presidents and board of directors, meaning the corporation owned the roadway to be traveled. The revenue went toward improvement and maintenance of roadways and encouraged counties to establish improved road systems. In 1896, there were approximately 175 miles of toll roads owned by the corporations with tolls averaging around 75 cents per every 15 miles. Citizens often complained about not being able to travel from any point in the county without having to pay the tolls multiple times. Many meetings were held and plans drawn out to resolve the issue, but the poor financial state of the county prevented officials from being able to act. An attempt by legislators to take a referendum of voters to free the turnpikes resulted in a majority of favoring the move, but the county’s financial condition couldn’t warrant the situation.

Threats of violence were reported to officials, and in 1897, the issue culminated with raids on the toll gates houses. Masked horsemen raided the houses and dynamited roads throughout the county, reaching a climax on the night of May 21, 1897. Sheriff James Lane had received word that a raid was being planned on the Prickly Ash toll house at the Owingsville and Wyoming turnpike, which was located near the present bridge spanning Prickly Ash Creek on Ky. 111. Under the direction of County Judge W. S. Gudgell and County Attorney C. G. McCallister, Lane and his deputy, George Young, organized a posse of nine armed men to protect the toll house. At approximately midnight, the group heard heavy gunfire down Slate Creek in the direction of Wyoming. The raiders had cut the pole at the at the toll house at the White Oak Turnpike and another at the lower end of the Wyoming Turnpike and began firing into the toll houses. A short time later, the raiders were heard approaching Prickly Ash and when they were about 150 yards away, they surrounded the toll house. The raiders demanded, at gunpoint, that Chris Garner, who resided at the toll house, present an axe so that the gate pole could be cut.

Sheriff Lane and Dept. Young’s posse flanked the raiders and demanded a surrender, only to be met with gunfire. The posse returned fire striking three of the raiders. The raiders split into two groups, one heading up Skillet Branch, the others down Slate Creek toward Wyoming. Later Lane and Young’s posse found and arrested a member of the raiders, David Johnson, who was lying wounded along the turnpike. The following morning, Charles Johnson who had also been wounded, was arrested in the Forge Hill community. Arrest warrants for the other raiders were obtained by Sheriff Lane, but only four were arrested, as the others had fled the area. These arrests brought death threats to Sheriff Lane and Judge Executive Gudgell and threats to burn the courthouse and jail raided. Judge Gudgell wired Governor William Bradley about the circumstances and requested state troops to assist in maintaining order in the county. Company E, 2nd Regiment of the Kentucky State Guard, dispatched 52 men to Owingsville to protect the jail and courthouse and provide security for upcoming court appearances of the accused raiders. The War for Free Turnpikes ended after this bloody, yet non-fatal, event in Bath County. After the court trials, the Bath County Fiscal Court appointed turnpike commissioners to meet and negotiate the purchase of the turnpikes and eventually purchased all of them, officially ending the turnpike debate by 1929.

Wyoming endured many hardships and tribulations over the years, including a devastating fire around 1890, numerous floods, and outlaws, just to name a few. The one thing Wyoming could not survive was the modern era. Modern roads and railroads took the place of the mighty Licking River commerce route, bypassing the town into oblivion. By the early 1960s, only the church and a few houses and barns dotted the open field that was once a thriving community. Kentucky State Route 111 was rerouted and stretched past the former town. A modern bridge was erected across the Licking River on a new road downstream from the old ferry crossing that once provided so much of Wyoming’s transportation and trade. Today, nothing that resembles a town exists, and time has forgotten Wyoming. Many of the town’s descendants still reside in Bath County, but few, if any, can recall the heyday of the Wyoming. In the next generation, there will be no mention of the little town that gave State Route 111 its namesake; no memories of the good times and hard-working community that once graced the acres of farmland . . . Wyoming will truly become Bath County’s forgotten town. 


Sources: A History of Bath County, by J. A. Richards, Phyllis Byron Archive, and Bath County Clerk Records

The Great Owingsville Fire of 1893

This is my first installment of my historical accounts of Bath County.  I hope you enjoy reading about the life of days bygone.  A little background for this first article:  I was raised in Owingsville and have lived there almost all my life; with the exception of when I was away for military service and lived briefly in Midland.  I have been a volunteer firefighter in Owingsville since 1991 and currently hold the Assistant Chief's position.  This first story has always captivated me; one, because of the sheer magnitude of the event, and two, because I use it as an example of how to advert a similar calamity through pre-planning and training at the fire department. Again, I hope you enjoy!

Throughout history, civilization has endured disasters that test the will and determination of the people who are the foundation of the communities they call home.  On the early morning of Tuesday, September 19, 1893, a disaster struck the city of Owingsville that threatened the entire livelihood of the community. 

Late Nineteenth Century Owingsville was rather typical in layout for the time; the streets were mainly dirt roads lined with wood framed or brick structures nestled snug side by side. Most of the buildings in downtown Owingsville were wood built structures hewn from the surrounding forests or mortar and brick with tin, tar or wood shingled roofs.  The streets were narrow and named much like they are now, with the exception of Johnson and Jefferson Streets.  Johnson Street was located at the corner of Main Street and the present location of the Citizen’s Bank, and intersected with Henry Street which is located behind the bank and Christian Church.  Jefferson Street is presently known as North Court Street and completed the block at the corner of Main by the Perfect Lady Salon and hardware store.  A large lumber yard owned by the E. V. Brother Lumber Company was located at the intersection of Oberline and Water Street, at the present location of the old Foodland Grocery Store once owned by Donnie Manuel.  Businesses along Henry and Jefferson Streets included the Peed & Hazelrigg stables, located at the present day location of Jamie’s Dance Studio and the former Gateway Video building, a blacksmith and wagon shop, a grocery store, dentist office and several storage sheds and barns.  Across the street, where the library presently sits, there were warehouses belonging to J.M Richart, J.T. Kimbrough and J.A. Ramsey.  Northeast from these buildings were the Christian Church, two homes and storage sheds.  Rounding the block from Johnson to Main Street was the C.H. Hoon Undertaking and Furniture business, located where the Citizen’s Bank presently sits.  Owingsville in September 1893 was very prosperous and thriving well.

Owingsville had endured two fires that threatened the entire commerce district; one in April 1873 that burned from Henry Street to another building on Jefferson Street, and the other in January 1891 that burned out a section of structures from the present day hardware store west to where the County Attorney’s office now occupies.  On both occasions, the town’s citizens valiantly fought the fires with the best equipment they had; buckets filled from ponds or wells nearby.  Firefighting equipment was in its infancy and usually reserved for bigger cities, with few organized fire departments in operation nationwide.  Most fire brigades were hired by insurance companies to protect properties they insured, often creating conflicts from the different insurance brigades in bigger cities squabbling on which buildings were to be protected.  During this era, a company called Sanborn Publishing created maps of cities that detailed the types of structures and their fire liabilities.  There are a few of these early maps that still survive detailing Owingsville’s city streets and structures.  These maps can be accessed online at the Kentuckiana Digital Library.  The closest map that reflects how Owingsville would have looked in 1893 was drawn in July, 1891.

 It is probably a fair assumption that the weather was warm and dry the morning of September 19, 1893, and was as typical as any late summer day would start.  At approximately 4 a.m., a fire was spotted at the Peed & Hazelrigg stable.  The livery area of the stable, including seven horses, was quickly consumed by the fire that soon became a raging inferno. Sparks and glowing embers filled the sky as most Owingsville residents were awakened by the commotion.  The fire raced westerly down Henry Street to Jefferson, destroying Pierce’s Blacksmith Shop, Hutcheson’s Saddlery, The Owingsville Opinion newspaper office and Dr. Nesbitt’s dental office, stopping at an empty lot left by the 1891 fire.  Winds carried the flames to the lumber yard on Oberline Street and several homes north of Henry Street.  Soon the warehouses across from the livery stable started burning and the fire raced toward Main, Johnson and Jefferson Streets.  Business owners clamored to their stores along Main Street and frantically began removing goods in efforts to save what they could, taking the items to the yard of the courthouse.  Citizens gathered what containers they could muster and began filling them with water from the cistern located in the courthouse square, but the fire’s intensity was far too great for the bucket brigades to render much assistance.  Clell Ewing, who lived just outside of Owingsville, sent his teams and wagons loaded with barrels of water racing toward downtown.  Morgan Goodpaster of Sherburne was making a supply run into town with his team and wagon when he saw the blaze and quickly gathered barrels, filling them in J.B. Goodpaster’s pond.  The actions of these two men saved many homes outside the business district that could have been lost in the calamity.

The fires of the Kimbrough, Richart and Ramsey warehouses quickly spread along the Main Street businesses, consuming Goodpaster’s Bank, which was located where the library now sits, eastward toward the Hoon Undertaking and Furniture business.  The Owingsville Christian Church, a “remarkable and elegant structure” according to the News Outlook, caught fire and consumed the surrounding buildings and adjacent homes.  At the height of the fire, a powder keg located in the warehouse belonging to J.T. Kimbrough exploded, causing a deafening report that shook the surrounding block.  By daybreak, the fire was still unchecked, but efforts of the citizens’ fire brigade had started to slow its progress.  Some houses on High Street sustained some roof damage due to flying embers but were quickly extinguished.  A great number of people living on the outskirts of town raced to help contain the inferno and as word of the fire spread, people from all over the county came to assist.  Several neighboring towns, such as Mount Sterling, sent assistance. 

A Sanborn Map of Owingsville drawn in 1891, showing the origin and path of the 1893 fire.                                       

Even before the fire was under control, insurance representatives started arriving into town to start damage assessments.  The entire commerce district of Owingsville was a smoldering wasteland, with the exception of the saloon that was located where the Perfect Lady Salon is presently.  The saloon was protected from the fire by a two-story brick wall adjoining the bank.  As devastating as the fire was, there was only one confirmed death associated.  Ms. Jane Dawson died from a reported heart attack after receiving an erroneous message that her son, George, and another woman had died in the fire.  Another man, John Spence, was injured by falling debris when a wall of the Hoon store fell. The economic loss however was disastrous. The day following the fire, the citizens and merchant owners of Owingsville sifted through the debris to salvage what they could. The Peed & Hazelrigg stable lost approximately $10,000 worth of stock, buggies and structures, along with seven horses.  The stable and contents reportedly only had $1,500 insurance coverage at the time.  J.T. Kimbrough lost a total of $10,500 worth of structures and stock, Goodpaster’s Bank loss was at $7,000.   J.A. Ramsey & Company lost $10,000, and the Christian Church, $12,000.  In all, around thirty businesses and homes were destroyed or severely damaged in the fire, totaling in over $100,000 in losses; a huge amount for the time.  It is estimated that only $40,000 of that loss amount was covered in insurance.  At least twelve homes were lost, rendering the residents temporarily homeless.  Many jobs were lost in the ashes along with the livelihood of the merchants who were unable to save their stock.  Piles of salvaged merchandise and store stock covered the courthouse lawn, unharmed from the inferno.  Within days, the businesses opened in temporary locations throughout Owingsville.  The Wolf & Sons business and Goodpaster Bank relocated to the hall of the Owings House, where Owingsville Banking Company now occupies. The time lock on the bank’s safe was opened on Thursday, September 21, and remarkably, the currency was untouched; although some ledgers sustained slight damage due to the binding glue melting away.  J.T. Kimbrough & Sons were housed in the courthouse and J.M. Richart, J.A. Ramsey and James Gillon relocated to the Bath Seminary School, where the District Courthouse is now located.  Several citizens opened up their own homes to other merchants and families that had been burned out.  The Christian Church congregated and held services at the Presbyterian Church located on East Main Street where St Julie’s Catholic Church is currently located.

Aftermath of the Great Fire of 1893

Within a week, most all of the debris had been removed from the fire scene and plans to rebuild began.  Although no direct origin and cause of the fire was ever determined, it is believed it was purely an accident; unlike the fire of 1891, which was thought to have been intentionally set.  Another fire that potentially could have been just as devastating occurred in March, 1907 when the livery stable belonging to William Atchinson and the blacksmith shop of A.N. Denton on Henry Street burned.  That fire originated at nearly the same location as the 1893 incident and threatened the business section of the city once again.  The fire was stopped by the use of a fire engine that had been purchased by the City of Owingsville not long prior to the event.

 Owingsville would rebuild as the town we see today.  Though the businesses and frontage of the stores have changed over the years, most of the same structures that rose out of the ashes of the 1893 fire are still standing today.  The shops from the Christian Church to the corner where Citizen’s Bank is located were razed a several years ago to accommodate the bank and its offices.  The front of the library has changed several times over the years and the Davis Department Store and Five and Dime Store are now part of the Christian Church’s Ramsey Fellowship Hall.  The block along Henry Street where the 1893 fire began has changed drastically, too; several buildings are tied in together along the ‘pocket’ to the corner of Main Street, although a few are now vacant and in various degrees of disrepair. 

During the modern era, there have been other fires in the same area of the Great Fire of 1893. A fire in the winter of 1997 tore through an apartment above the Perfect Lady Salon at the corner of North Court and Main Street, but was quickly checked and confined to the apartment of origin by the efforts of the Owingsville, Salt Lick and Morehead Fire Departments.  Although the apartment was significantly damaged, the salon, the library and the adjoining apartment were spared with minimal water or smoke damage.   Three other recent fires in the area were brought under control and contained with only the buildings involved damaged or destroyed.  The first fire was the small red tin sided building at the corner of Oberline and Water Street that was once Doris York’s shoe store, the second was the old feed mill and farm supply building that was vacant.  Both of those buildings were destroyed and fires were considered suspicious in nature.  The third fire was in the old Wills TV and Appliance store at the corner of Henry and Oberline Street and was confined to the back rooms.  An electrical problem caused that fire; the building was repaired and still stands today.

With the advent of modern firefighting equipment and tactics, it is unlikely that a fire of such magnitude as the 1893 event will ever occur again in Owingsville.  Owingsville has modern water supply sources and fire hydrants located at regular intervals throughout the city; gone are the days of the bucket brigades.  The Owingsville Fire Department has thirty-four volunteer firefighters who are trained according to the standards set by the National Fire Protection Agency and the Kentucky Fire Commission.  The Owingsville fire station is centrally located on West Main Street and houses two front line fire engines, a tanker/pumper truck, a ladder truck that elevates 50 feet and can direct a continuous flow of water upon a fire at that height.  There is a brush land firefighting truck located at the fire station for woodland or grass fires that may threaten homes and property in remote areas.   Other communities in Bath County are equally protected with fire departments in Preston, Olympian Springs, Bethel, Sharpsburg and Salt Lick, who, with mutual aid agreements, help each other during large scale fire incidents. 

If The Great Fire of September 19, 1893 had any silver lining, it would be the determination of the community and its people to overcome great adversity and thrive once again.  Like the Phoenix rising from the ashes, Owingsville rose above the smoldering ruins to become the great community it is today.

Source material gathered from A History of Bath County by John Adair Richards, The Owingsville Outlook Archives, The Kentuckiana Digital Archive, and Sanborn Publishing Corporation.  The photo of the fire’s aftermath courtesy of the Haden Lacy archive, submitted to John Adair Richards for historical reference.