Helen's Place at Kirkmansville, KY

A visit to a unique country store and restaurant

A few weeks ago, I was invited to lunch at Helen's Place, to help celebrate the 82nd birthday of my neighbor. Miss Margie.

I was a little surprised when I learned that this restaurant is located in Kirkmansville, KY. Kirkmansville is a tiny village in the extreme northwestern corner of Todd County. It sets at the intersection of Highways 171 and 107, which are not major highways. (Nor are they wide or straight highways!)

Miss Ardell, Margie's friend since childhood and the inspiration behind this expedition, drove us over to Kirkmansville in her Buick. Margie's daughter Sandra and I rode in the back seat.

We took Pilot Rock Road (Highway 507) to Allegre and turned north on 171. The roads wound around the hills, through the trees, and over the creeks. Usually, I would have enjoyed the scenery, but I felt a little carsick. I'm not used to the back seat.

We pulled into the parking lot at Helen's Place a few minutes before noon, entered the little building, and looked for a place to sit. The main room was full of tables and chairs, but Helen invited us to sit in the back room.

A waitress brought our iced tea, and we went through the line to get our food. The meal was served as a buffet, and the food was very good. I can honestly say it was home-style cooking. I don't remember the entire menu, but I filled my plate with:

BBQ ribs
Chicken and dumplings
Creamed potatoes
White beans
Macaroni salad
Homemade rolls
Johnnycake

My companions decided to have dessert. While they were getting their pie, I took some pictures of the back room and enjoyed the exhibit of old-time photos from Kirkmansville's past. (The white bands across the photos below are the unavoidable reflections of the overhead florescent lights.)

The back room has tables on one side of the aisle and chairs on the other side. On Friday nights, local musicians meet here to jam and to entertain. At the front of the room, a microphone and speakers stand ready. Plaques over the mantle honor two beloved musicians who performed regularly in the past: Frank Phipps and Donnie McGehee.

(To place this music-making in its proper perspective, one must know that thumbpicking originated in this precise area of Kentucky. Merle Travis is from Muhlenberg County, just a few miles north, as is Eddie Pennington. Odell Martin, also a thumbpicker, was from the little town of Allegre, six miles south of Helen's Place. The Everly Brothers learned thumbpicking from their father, a Muhlenberg County native and an accomplished musician.)

But back to Helen's Place and our visit there. While we were enjoying our meal and conversation, the tables in the other room had filled with diners. Many of the customers were men who had come in from the fields. I suppose they find it easier (and more fun!) to come to Helen's for a hot meal than to pack a lunch.

Helen came back to talk to us again before we left. She said that she was honored that we'd come there for a birthday celebration. We complimented her on the delicious meal, and she insisted that it was "just plain country cookin'."

Miss Ardell asked how many people were employed there. Helen explained that she has a staff of five, counting herself. They work together preparing the food, without any firm rules about who's going to make what. Usually, they fix two main dishes as well as a variety of side dishes.

When we went to the front room of the store to pay, I spotted a box of college-rule spiral-bound notebooks on the shelves. I bought a few for Isaac; I had tried unsuccessfully to find them at WalMart the night before. My meal was surprisingly inexpensive. As I recall, it was less than $7.00, including the tea.

Someone at Kirkmansville paints rocks and sells them at Helen's Place. Sandra bought one for Margie that had a fawn painted on it. When we started home a few minutes later, we saw a doe and a little spotted fawn along the road, just outside of Kirkmansville.

After we went around the first few curves, Sandra suggested that we stay on Highway 171 at Allegre and go home by Butler Road, instead of turning onto Pilot Rock Road. It was still a winding road back to Allegre, but after that, the road was somewhat less crooked. I was glad.

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Related:
"Seen at Kirkmansville, KY" -- Prairie Bluestem
"Great Road Name Lost" -- Prairie Bluestem
History of Kirkmansville -- Todd County, KY, Family History

Hanging Out at the Country Store

When I worked at a little country store in my neighborhood for several years, my boss was about 80 years old. He worked every day, pretty darned hard for a guy his age, and he always had many ideas and plans for the future!

One day in the store, I listened to that old man have a heart-to-heart talk with a young fellow in the neighborhood who was at loose ends. (I'll call him Josh.) I don't know why Josh dropped out of high school, but he did. I can't imagine why his parents permitted him to drop out, but they did. Such a shame -- Josh was a good kid.

Josh had been hanging out a lot at the store, and he had become quite friendly with my boss.

As they talked that day, it was clear that he was unsure about what he was going to do next. I think his parents were pressuring him to get a job, and certainly if he wasn't going to school, that was the next logical step.

My boss advised him to think about going into the military where he could finish his education and perhaps make a career. That was good advice, but when you tell an l8-year-old to do something for 20 years, it sounds like an eternity to them. They can't imagine that at 38 they will be still young.

The conversation went on and my boss counseled Josh to open up to his parents and really discuss the things in his heart with them.

It was evident that my boss, an old man, truly cared about and wanted to help Josh, and that Josh accepted and appreciated the affection and concern.

During the next few years, my boss was able to give Josh some fatherly advice at times that Josh probably wouldn't have liked to hear from his real father.

As it turned out, Josh didn't enlist in the Army, but he did get a job at one of the factories. Now, seven or eight years later, he's married and has a child, he's working, and he seems to be doing all right. Maybe someday he'll get his GED. I don't think it would be too difficult for him.

My boss has passed away, but he worked almost until the day he died. For him, it was like Emily Dickenson wrote: "Because I could not stop for death, Death kindly stopped for me."

I remember his relationship with young Josh as an example of the important role that elders can play in the community.

Rose, Nebraska

A "wide spot in the road" is fading away

Rose, Nebraska, in 2000. Trading Post (left),
livestock feed shed, and machine shop (right)

My address, when I was growing up, was Rose, Nebraska. Rose is on Highway 183, more or less midway in the 60 miles between Bassett and Taylor, Nebraska.

When I was little (1950s), the blacktop road from Bassett ended just south of the Rose Trading Post, and the next 30 miles to Taylor were gravel road. A couple of miles after the road turned to gravel, it passed Grandpa and Grandma (Gilbert and Christina) Swinney's house, which was the Rose post office.

By the time I was 10 or so (early 1960s), Highway 183 was paved all the way from Bassett to Taylor. Not long after that, Grandma Swinney retired as postmistress, and the post office was moved from her house to the Rose Trading Post.

After acquiring the post office, the Trading Post earned the honor of having the "Rose" highway sign there also. It always read, "Rose, population 2."

Rose was in its heyday during the time that I was growing up. The store sold groceries and necessities, livestock feed, and gasoline. Another building housed the Swanson Brothers' machine repair shop. (They moved their operation to Bassett around 1960.)

The Rose Community Hall was located just north of the Trading Post, and it was used for dances, 4-H and extension club meetings, Thanksgiving potlucks and Christmas programs, and as a polling place during elections.

We lived about four and a half miles west of Rose, as the crow flies. We could have driven through pastures, but by real roads, it was about eight miles. I looked forward to my mother going to the Rose store because I might be able to talk her into buying me some bubble gum or perhaps even a bottle of pop.

When Mike and Mildred Riley were running the Rose Trading Post, Mildred had a beauty shop in a room between the store and the living quarters. My Grandma Nora liked to go there to have her hair done, and I remember going with her to have a perm put in my hair once, courtesy of Grandma.

About 1970, several rural schools in the area consolidated and built a community school at Rose. I believe my sister-in-law Kathy taught there the first year that the Rose School opened. She was young and single, and she boarded with my parents. She and my brother became interested in each other, and the rest is history. They've been married for around 35 years now.

The last few decades have been hard on Rose. Population in the county has decreased, and Rose has been one of the casualties. I don't know if Rose still gets a dot on the Nebraska map or not, but it won't completely vanish as long as the school is there.

The community hall is still there, too, and it's probably still used for some of the same events that I remember attending there.

The Trading Post has closed. The machine shop has, I believe, stood empty since the Swanson Brothers moved out.

The post office was located in the community hall for a while, but now it has closed permanently. You can still address a letter to Rose, but the Bassett post office handles that zip code.

Cowboy poet Baxter Black gave Rose a bit of immortality in "Sandhills Savior", a poem about the windmills in the Nebraska Sandhills.

... From Thedford to Hyannis, from Valentine to Rose
Across that sandy country where the prairie grass still grows
You'll see those man-made daisies, silhouettes against the sky
Their steel petals gleaming on their stalks eighteen feet high...

Pennysaver Market at Fairview, KY

Life in Christian County, Kentucky...

Pennysaver Market at Fairview, KY

We've seen a lot of growth in the Mennonite community of eastern Christian County in the 15 years we've lived here.

A Mennonite church and a second school have been built near us. The Fairview Produce Auction was founded about eight years ago, and it sells bulk produce five or six days a week during the growing season.

Numerous home businesses have opened -- two harness shops, a bicycle shop, sawmills, a book store, a quilt shop, a cabinet shop, several greenhouses, and repair shops for tractors, farm equipment, lawn mowers, and chainsaws. This list is just a sampler of of the many local Mennonite enterprises, not a complete directory!

The Mennonite-owned Pennysaver Market (above photo) at Fairview has opened just this week. Located across the highway from the Produce Market, it has excellent potential of getting a lot of local "English" business as well as Mennonite.

Dennis and I drove over there this morning to see what they had. I was hoping for lots of bulk foods, like the Amish store at Guthrie, but I was disappointed They do have a few items in bulk, such as oatmeal, flour and some baking ingredients, but not nearly as much variety as I wanted to find. When I get a chance, I'm going to tell the store's owner.

Their inventory is similar to what you might see in any small grocery store -- canned goods, bread, soap powders, trash bags, etc. In the back of the store, there are several coolers, including one with big cheeses. They'll cut off a chunk in any size you want.

I think that possibly this store is concentrating more on the conventional grocery items because there's a bulk food store all ready in the neighborhood. It's been built on the back side of a large old house where a Mennonite couple lives, and it's not advertised at all. In fact, I know about it only because a Mennonite neighbor recommended it to me.

I used to go over there sometimes to buy flour, pastas, and other stuff in bulk. The lady who keeps the store was always gracious to me, but I felt a little out-of-place because very few "English" people go there. I haven't been over there for several years now.

The Pennysaver is clearly open for all comers, and that's why I was hoping it would stock more bulk items. But even if it doesn't, I'm glad it's there. At a little less than five miles from our house, it's our nearest grocery store.

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Foiling the Antique Hunters

Another Trip Down Memory Lane... Life in Christian County, Kentucky... And What I Think About It...

Lately, I seem to have trouble getting my thoughts together to write anything. Here's something from my archives, written about seven or eight years ago, when I was working at the little country store just a mile from home.

And if this describes you -- well, now you know what I think.

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Business was slow at the little country store yesterday afternoon. I don't suppose I'd had a customer for an hour or so when the gray Mercedes pulled up and a man and a woman came inside. They were wearing the appropriate Ralph Lauren clothing for a day in the country. They paid for soft drinks with a fifty peeled off a stack of bills, and looked around the store with interest.

"Do you have any old things here you'd like to sell?" The lady was running an exquisitely manicured finger along the back of the ancient church pew where our regulars sit to eat sandwiches and tell stories. Her eyes wandered to the vintage Coca Cola thermometer hanging by the sink at the back of the store.

"No, ma'am," I said. "Everything in here belongs to the family." (Not my family, but The Family who has owned the store for 55 years or more and until recently, ran the business.)

"Well, do you know of anyone who has some old furniture ruining in their barn? Or maybe you know an old person who'd have some things to sell?"

"No, I sure don't," I said. "Sorry..."

"We're spending a few days here visiting," the lady said. "We like to look for antiques everywhere we go."

"Everybody around here is pretty antique-aware. I don't know anybody who'd sell a thing," I said firmly.

"Well, thank you," she said. "You've got a real nice little store here."

They donned their sunglasses and drove away, leaving me a little surprised at the degree of antagonism I'd felt when they started asking about buying the old things in my neighborhood.

Some might say that if my neighbors did have some old handmade pieces of furniture rotting in their barn, it would be better for a Mercedes-driving stranger to have them than for them to be ruined. But I'd have felt like an accessory to a crime if these strangers had paid little-of-nothing for something that should be a family treasure, even if the family hasn't realized it yet.

It was obvious that the antique hunters were from a different world. Their flannel shirts, blue jeans, barn jackets, and oversized hiking boots hadn't seen any honest wear, and their car probably cost nearly as much as my house. They might have looked just right in their country costumes at a resort or lodge somewhere, but they didn't belong at our shabby, dusty little country store with the outhouse behind it.

Every town around here has antique stores in it. Those antique hunters didn't want to shop. They came to the country because they wanted to steal, and that's what irritated me. It gave me an undeniable pleasure to refuse my help.

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Seen in S.E. Kentucky

Life in The Upper South...

Seen at Corbin, KY

Corbin, KY business district

Coal cars waiting at Corbin near the business district

Country store on 229 (before and after)

Hwy. 229 between Barbourville and London, KY

Another view of this beautiful valley along Hwy.229

We left the computer at the shop on Monday afternoon as we drove out of town to spend a few days camping at Cumberland Falls. We got home early enough this afternoon that I could zoom to town to pick up the computer again. I am hoping everything that was broken is fixed and that everything else still works as it should.

I took about 150 photos while we were camping. Southeast Kentucky is beautiful. I have several photos still to post but I promise not to post all of them.

It was terribly hot (heat index of 105-110° daily) so we spent most of the mid-day hours driving some of the "scenic routes" that are marked on the map and visiting air conditioned museums, flea markets, etc. in the area. Isaac found an excellent game store (the
"Game King") in Corbin.

Isaac is anxious to use the computer and I have been monopolizing it, messing around with my photos, so ta-ta for now.

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Corbin, Kentucky

Old Store Building

Life in Christian County, Kentucky... Life in The Upper South... History and Old Stuff...

Former country stores are a common sight along Kentucky's backroads. This one is located on Highway 507 in Christian County.

Country Store at Honey Grove, Kentucky

The Rural Life... Life in Christian County Kentucky... And What I Think About It...

The little country store at Honey Grove, Kentucky, was still open when we moved to Christian County, but it has been closed for about five years now and the building stands empty.

As I drive the roads of the county, I see many old buildings that used to be stores. Within five miles of our home, I know four old store buildings and another newer one. Their histories are probably much like the history of the store at Honey Grove: business dwindled to the point where the store could no longer operate.

The little store at Honey Grove was once a thriving grocery. It served a farm community that was separated from town by a dozen miles of dirt road and several streams.

The building itself is about a hundred years old. It was built by its first storekeeper, a Mr. Harned. It originally stood on the opposite side of the road, and its front door was once its backdoor. It has one large room below and an attic above.

The store had a long church pew and rocking chairs both inside and outside, so folks could rest and visit while enjoying a cold drink and a sandwich or snack. A long counter ran halfway down one side of the room. The cash register, two glass-topped showcases, and the meat cutter were lined up on the counter top.

A small kitchen sink at the back of the store provided a place for the storekeeper to wash utensils and for farmers to wash the soil from their hands. Customers were welcome to use the outhouse behind the store.

Miss Eva Shanklin, a widow lady, was the storekeeper for over 50 years, and under her ownership, the store reached its zenith after World War II and then went into a long slow decline. She stocked all the staples of kitchen and home and many things for the farm -- flour, sugar, laundry bluing, washboards, hairpins, quilting thread, motor oil, school tablets, nails, and much more. The grocery truck made a big delivery every week, and she sent to Hopkinsville for the things it didn't bring.

Senior citizens around here remember when Shanklin Grocery had a jukebox and young people met at Honey Grove on Saturday nights to visit and dance. Some walked for miles to get there because they didn't have a car or a bicycle, or even a horse or a mule.

For decades, travelers and locals alike stopped at Honey Grove for an ice-cold drink and a good balogna sandwich. Honey Grove was well known to have the coldest soda chest on this side of the county.

Even in its last few years, the grocery did a considerable business in lunch meat sold by the pound and and in lunch meat sandwiches made to order and eaten within the store.

In the late 1990's, it became impossible to find the traditional 4-square crackers for the balogna sandwiches, and the old chest cooler suddenly quit working one day and had to be hauled out of the building. Looking back, those little tragedies seem to be omens of impending demise.

Times have changed in ways that make it very difficult for country stores nowadays. Good blacktop roads crisscross the county, and many country women go to town daily because they have jobs there. After work, it's easier for them to shop in town than to go to an expensive little country store that may not even have what they want.

Through the years, the grocery at Honey Grove became a convenience store, and finally went out of business entirely. Perhaps beer and lottery tickets could have saved it, but Miss Eva would never have considered it and after Miss Eva's retirement, her daughter would not have allowed it in the the building. It's probably just as well. Honey Grove is an isolated settlement on a little-traveled road and a little store with beer and lottery-tickets would have been a sitting duck for robbers.

I know quite a bit about the store at Honey Grove because I worked there for several years before it closed. I lettered the "Fresh Produce" sign that is hanging above the bench in the photo above.

Over the counters of Shanklin Grocery, I became much better acquainted with the neighbors who stopped in to drink a soda, eat a sandwich, or buy a pack of smokes. I spent a lot of time sitting with the regulars and listening to them talk. That was part of the job, and I learned a lot of local history doing it.

At the time I worked there, Miss Eva had retired, and the store was operated by Mr. B.B. Bradley, an old gentleman who lived in Honey Grove. He ran the store for about six years because he could not bear to see its doors closed. After B.B. passed away, the store closed within six months.

I look back at my three years of working in Shanklin Grocery as a time of bonding with the community, and I'm thankful I had that opportunity. I'm thankful too that I had the opportunity to be one of the last storekeepers at Honey Grove (though a minor one.) It makes me feel that I am a little part of the history there.