A LITTLE INDIANA HISTORY
Our stay in Southern Indiana was a “look back in time” with “dear hearts and gentle people” from my childhood. Marian Herbert, a former associate from the workplace joined us for what I promised would be an introduction to my roots. I warned her in advance that a first look may give the appearance that it is one step above Appalachia. I was concerned after a quick drive through my hometown that perhaps I should amend that warning to reflect the possibility that it might not be “one step above”. However, as I gained my orientation and friends told me of the pending changes for the town, I realized that after a long period of economic depression, the people are upbeat and hopeful and I know for a fact that the people of the Valley are of the “right stuff”. The towns people are encouraged and enthusiastic about pending changes that they believe will return the town to its once “lofty” status as a playground of some renown.
In their heyday, the little towns of French Lick and West Baden Indiana (only one mile apart) enjoyed a reputation for providing upscale accommodations that only the very rich could afford. Similar to the luxury resorts of Europe at the turn of the century, the West Baden Springs Resort and the French Lick Springs Resort were seasonal locations where the wealthy went to bathe in the warm mineral spas, golf on three well manicured professional golf courses, engage in horseback riding and in the case of the West Baden Hotel, exercise on a combination entertainment complex and bicycle track. It was said that after an evening meal of togetherness with family and friends, the well healed men of major economic standing slipped off to enjoy games of chance operated off the premises in quiet, elegant and secure surroundings. Gambling was not a legal leisure time commodity but, nevertheless. it existed and provided the “icing on the cake” and made the Springs a preferred vacation destination. The “season” began just prior to Derby Day at Churchill Downs in Louisville 60 miles away and continued until the fall when cool weather sent guests to warmer “climes” or home to bask in the warmth of their own paradise. On Derby Day, a special train carried the “pampered” guests to Louisville where a special track prov ided provided comfortable surroundings where, presumably,` guests studied the handicap sheets, enjoyed an elegant lunch preceded by mint juleps and a “look see” at the field.
The mineral wells formed the foundations for the success of both hotels, built around the turn of the century. The West Baden Hotel, built by William Sinclair ceased operations after it suffered the “hard times” of the great depression and it was “sold” to the society of Jesuits for the sum of $1.00 by its then owner, Ed Ballard. During my youth the West Baden Springs Hotel with its beautiful dome (until the Astrodome was built it was the largest free standing dome in the world) and manicured lawns was the home of the Jesuit College. My memories are of young men walking in prayer and meditation along the walkways as I was occasionally treated to a drive through the streets of brick, surrounded by gardens of beautiful flowers and well manicured lawns. The college and its grounds was a showplace even then.
After 30 years, the Jesuits found the building and its grounds too expensive to maintain and they sold it to a couple who donated the building and grounds to a hotel management and culinary school. When the maintenance and upkeep became prohibitive for this group the property was sold to a group out of Beverly Hills, California. This group “pillaged” and stripped the beautiful old building of its pride, esteem and every removable element of priceless antiques before declaring bankruptcy and tying it up in legal disputes that went on interminably. When I visited the old hotel sitting abandoned, forlorn and in disrepair in 1987, a wall of the building had fallen down and the beautiful old building looked doomed forever.
In early 2000, the Cook family out of Bloomington, Indiana contributed several million dollars in conjunction with a plan by the Indiana Historical Society to restore the building and the surrounding gardens. The gardens, exterior and the first floor have been restored to its original stature and though many million will need to be spent to restore it to its former grandeur, the Cook group appear committed to its total restoration.
The French Lick Springs Hotel built by Democratic operative and former Mayor of Indianapolis, Thomas Tagart still operates today and has survived various ownerships and management through the years. In my youth the hotel was a primary source of jobs for the townspeople of French Lick and the surrounding area. I remember vividly the traffic problems that would accompany a major convention or conference at the hotel and the anticipation of the energy level generated on Derby Day. For a small town country girl, the fancy dressed and beautifully coifed “wealthy” hotel guests were a source of “awe and dreams”. Upon the death of “Little Tom” Tagart (as my father referred to the son of the pioneer Tagart), the family sold the hotel and it has such undergone several changes in ownership. It, too, is in need of restoration and to that end the Cook group has also purchased the French Lick Springs Resort complete with its golf courses and ancillary properties. Earlier this year, the State of Indiana approved and issued a license for a gambling casino to be located in the area. The Cook Group has joined with another Group to form a joint venture for development of the two hotels, a lake, casino, golf courses and other local amenities into an entertainment and tourist complex of international repute. The people of “my valley” are jubilant in their anticipation that the area will once again be restored to its former prominence.
When I return “home”, I undergo a felling of both excitement and depression. Excited to be where I still call home (my friend’s husband admonished her with “You lived in the valley 16 years and in Michigan over 30 – GET OVER IT!) When I told Ken of this admonishment he thought I should do the same. I feel depressed because the years have not been kind to the valley. Yet, in spite of this reality of difficult times, these dear people have not lost their faith or their spirit. They remain the same good people who formed the “community” of my youth and helped me through my “growing up” years. There were the summer revival meetings, the homecomings, the church suppers, the family reunions, evenings with neighbor friends spent in the yard catching the fireflies that magically lit our summer nights. Many of those friends are still there. Barbara Lynch Nicholson, Norma Kirby Jacobs, Donna Kirby Holmes, Joan Daugherty Ward. I remember with fondness John and Mabel Daughtery and their dedication to keeping the young people of our church busy, Roy and May Lands and their family whose presence in Church suggested a full house; Harry and Alma Kirby whose home was as familiar as my own and my elementary teacher, Miss Mae Carnes who had a funny little curl that hung over her forehead when she was “stressed”. On the mornings when Miss Mae entered the old one room school with the curl in the middle of the forehead, we knew that it would be a day of “no nonsense”. The list goes on. My summer would conclude with the annual “homecoming” service at Church. This service, an all day affair with a noon day “pitch in” lunch (my mouth waters with the memory of the good food) that brought the faithful and those less faithful in, what I believe, was a renewal of “kinship” both of the spirit and of the family. Those were good and wonderful days for a child growing up. I remember my feeling of deep uncertainty and confusion as I, with my family, listened to President Roosevelt’s speech regarding the attack on Pearl Harbor and the declaration of war. The subsequent loss of friends, neighbors and families in defense of our country, the sadness of losing loved ones and friends, the economic reality of relying on the good earth for the essentials of life and the simple and devout faith of our community provided stability, compassion and depth to our development. In looking back, I think of these as a special time that prepared me for good citizenship and gave me an appreciation for the good life that I have enjoyed. In the community of my youth, people do not judge others based on artificial appearances. They accept you for who you are and not what you have. I have often wondered why I have so little appreciation for “status symbols” and now I know. It isn’t the symbol that reflects reality, it is the product of the effort. I think that too often we believe in the symbol and do not recognize that the product of our effort is the real measurement of our value. I feel a special kindred spirit with my friends and relatives in Southern Indiana. To those who have known me “in another life”, my Indiana roots are my strength and from my roots I learned the value of being me. In other words, “WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT YOU GET” – for better or for worse.
My sincere thanks to Phyllis Jones Lemon and her husband Tim who volunteered their home “on the hill” for my friend to enjoy while she was with us. Also a special thanks to Frank Leonard, my dear friend and cheerleader cohort of long ago, for his thoughtful gathering of valley information and school memories. I thought my visit in the valley would be over endowed with spare time, but alas, each day was busy from dawn to dusk. Consequently, I missed seeing and spending as much time with many of my friends of “yore” as I would have liked but the memories of our past bind us and keep our spirit alive.
