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Memories of 'Gran' and Sulphur Well's Buelah Villa Hotel shared by Don Graete The place Sulphur Well, Kentucky holds unique memories for people across Kentucky and surrounding states because of the fame for its artesian sulphur "healthy" water well and for it's country ham and hospitality at the Buelah Villa Hotel. Don Graeter recently caught himself wondering about it and used the Google search engine for information about the name King Crenshaw. Google matched him up with ColumbiaMagazine.com and our following communications resulted in his sharing of . . . "MEMORIES OF BUELAH VILLA" By Don Graeter August 1955. There in black and white was my grandmother, just as I remember her, and a smart aleck seven year old making a face. No denying it, that was me. Fifty years ago. FIFTY YEARS? No denying that either. Mom took the picture. She would have been thirty five. Now, as I helped her get some things in order, this treasure had risen to the surface of the "picture drawer." There were "Gran" and me at the Buelah Villa Hotel in Sulphur Well, standing on the short footbridge from the main hotel to the annex. At the time, Mom had been furious with me for ruining the picture. King Crenshaw's assistant, James, had been behind her laughing and exclaiming, "He made the ugliest face I ever saw." Gran was a Logsdon from Horse Cave and her late husband, Carl Pedigo, was from Edmonton. King Crenshaw, the "proprietor" of Buelah Villa, had been their long time mutual friend. After she was widowed, summer trips from Louisville to Sulphur Well to visit old friends were something Gran enjoyed for many years. Eventually, I got to go along five or six times. King was a nice man who perfectly fit the definition of an old southern gentleman. He was bald, of medium build, wore glasses and I always saw him in an open collar short sleeve shirt and slacks. He spoke with a pronounced southern accent ("star" was "staah," for example) and always seemed laid back, even with what must have been very busy days running the hotel. Buelah Villa...Sulphur Well...what a place that was for a boy in the1950's! Around every corner seemed a new experience and source of wonder.The main hotel was a white frame two story building with a huge front porch stocked with rocking chairs. Across a short footbridge over the road was the annex with additional rooms. At the end of the porch, a few steps led down to a long suspension footbridge which went all the way to the other side of the river. There,one could descend to a concrete, riverside platform and drink sulphur water from an artesian fountain. The water was cold and rich going down, but that "aromatic" aftertaste was quite a shock to the uninitiated. It was always hilarious to watch a "rookie" take his or her first gulp. The footbridge was itself a source of great fun. If you hopped up and down, or even just ran on it, it had considerable spring. Such behavior was irresistible, of course, but brought consternation to the ladies who had to hang on until the recoil ebbed. Next to the main building was a dance hall and game room. It looked like a large, two story barn. There was a place for cars to park on the ground floor and the upper, main level was accessed via the footbridge. Behind the game room's screen doors was a fascinating world. Besides the dance floor, there was a snack bar and a seemingly endless array of games. There were pool tables and one of those long table games which was like a scaled down version of shuffleboard. The object was to slide metal pieces about the size of hockey pucks as close to the opposite end as possible without falling off and to knock your opponent's pieces off the edge. There were also two bowling lanes with a manual pinsetter. That had to be the world's worst job. I remember feeling sorry for the setter who had to keep jumping down to clear and reset pins, jump up on top of a rail to keep from getting hit by the next ball, and then do it all over again. Every year, I met a different local youngster about my age who was hanging around, knew the games and befriended me for a few days. We'd shoot pool, play the other games when we weren't in the adults' way and watch the adults compete, pulling for our favorites. I had never shot pool or played any of the other games before and pretty much got my plow cleaned the first year, but I learned soon enough. Much of King's clientele consisted of older ladies, such as Gran and her friends. A daily ritual was to walk down to the river for a drink of sulphur water. It was explained to me (with a little smile) that the water was "good for you." It took a while before I figured out just what that meant. Endless hours were spent in the rocking chairs on that huge porch,just talking and reading. King kept a generous supply of those old,cardboard hand fans for use on hot days. The fan portion usually carried an ad or religious message and the wooden handles reminded me of tongue depressors. The ladies put them to good use. One year, Gran unpacked her bag and brought out the first two books in the Hardy Boys series. She said she would read one if I would read the other. I was soon hooked and reading became a lifelong passion. I eventually collected the entire Hardy Boys set. It sits in my home library today and continually reminds me of Gran and Buelah Villa. You would think a small, rural Kentucky resort in the 1950's would have contained a pretty homogeneous group, but that wasn't always the case.King's assistant, James, was the first African American I was ever around.James always wore a smile. He was funny and kind. I especially liked him because he used to stop and chat with me briefly between his duties. I also learned at Buelah Villa that not everyone was a Methodist.King used to conduct a brief Christian service on the porch on Sunday mornings. He would read a bit of scripture, we'd sing a few hymns, have a prayer, etc. One year, I noticed that several ladies were sitting together at the service, but weren't participating. Afterward, I asked Gran what that was all about. She explained that the ladies were Jewish and what that meant. She said that it was nice of them to attend to be with everyone else who was Christian. No one ever missed one of King's bounteous meals, which were served family style in a screened room in the main building. All the guests used to crowd the porch before lunch and dinner eagerly awaiting the sound of the dinner bell. There were many dishes, but, to me, it was all about the country ham, biscuits and real butter. Those were indescribable delicacies to a Louisville boy. One year, my mother drove down to have lunch and take us home. The country ham was its usual exceptional quality and Mom asked King if she could buy some to take home to my father. King apologetically explained that he would feel obligated to do the same for everyone if he did it for her and there just wasn't enough to go around. Mom thanked him just same and we went to gather our bags. A few minutes later, we pulled around behind the main building to check out. Out the back door of the kitchen came James with a large grin and an even larger plate of country ham which"Mr. Crenshaw" had instructed him to give to us. Mom tried to pay him butJames just chuckled and refused. It was explained to me on the way home that Mom had made the mistake of asking King about the ham in front of others and had gotten his "official" answer. King's generosity had then been extended to us privately. It all couldn't last, of course. Nothing does. But I didn't know that then. In August 1960, Gran and I took the bus from Louisville to the depot on 31W where King was waiting for us. I sat between them for the car ride on to Buelah Villa as they talked at length about how much times had changed. Their conversation was prophetic. King's health took a sudden turn for the worse before the year was over and the hotel went into decline along with him. The same was true for Gran. By the next summer, she had come to live with us due to the infirmities of age and could no longer travel. She passed away in early 1966 during my freshman year at UK. A short time later, I heard that Buelah Villa had closed. Gran, King and the hotel all seemed to have passed on together, ending an era. Soon, another war came. I became a Navy officer, and, when it was over, a lawyer and stockbroker. Diane and I were blessed with two wonderful sons who married two wonderful girls and with opportunities to travel to distant lands. No travel experience could ever mean more to me, however, than those leisurely days at Sulphur Well of a half century ago. In that small place,I developed a passion for reading and learned much about life---about making new friends, the value of old friends, race, religion, competitive games, acts of generosity and kindness, and, most of all, devotion to family and a grandmother's love. It was a simpler time...an innocent time...and, with a nod to CharlesDickens, "It was the best of times." The writer can be reached for comment at: dgraeter@hilliard.com ~ ~ ~ For another memory about Sulphur Well, click here: John Dillinger was a guest at the Beulah Villa This story was posted on 2005-08-07 05:57:03
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