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Lighthouse Restaurant was first Porter's Restaurant The Porter family started what today continues as the Lighthouse Restaurant, an award winning Kentucky dining destination. The little community of Sulphur Well, Kentucky is known for two primary stories - the healing water, hotel and famous country ham dinners that drew people in the early 1900s, and the tragedy that took father, son and friend away in one hour in 1973. This is about the tragedy. Kathleen Porter, matriarch of Porter's Restaurant, was interviewed by Geniece Marcum, a friend and neighbor, who wrote about the start up and then the tragedy that set in motion the changes that would put it in the hands of new owners. She remembered happy times that included her wedding date January 31, 1933 when she married Hershell Welby (Babe) Porter, then the birth of their only child, a son, named Duke Edwards Porter - the opening day of her very own restaurant and the births of two granddaughters - and the tragedy in 1973. The Porters - Kathleen, Babe, and their son Duke - made their living operating the family farm in the small community of Sulphur Well where they lived. They opened the restaurant to sell hamburgers and it soon became a busy place. As Kathleen served hamburgers to the public at noon, she also served a homecooked meal on the side to the Porter men and their farm workers. Farming gave this crew a real hearty appetite, she said, especially Babe and Duke. So for these men she fixed things like country ham, hot biscuits, red eye gravy and vegetables which she served family style there in the restaurant. People coming in to eat saw the men settling down to such mouth-watering fare as this and quickly lost their appetites for hamburgers. They all began clamoring to buy this same kind of food for themselves. So after about a year, Kathleen changed her menu. Country ham dinners were now the specialty of the house. The rest is history. Porter's Restaurant became a huge success with capacity crowds filling the place, especially on weekends. Long lines of hungry people reached out onto the porch at times, waiting without complaint for their turn to eat. The popularity of the restaurant and the family who operated it grew over the next several years. Hoards of satisfied diners continued to return again and again, often bringing groups of friends and relatives with them to experience what a well-stuffed patron once described as, "a delightful exercise in gluttony". The Porter men enjoyed nothing more than coming in to the restaurant after their own workday was finished to mingle with the diners. Duke Porter at 38, was an unusual man. Standing well over six feet in height and tipping the scales at 230 pounds, he still seemed perfectly at home behind the counter. It wasn't unusual to find him cheerfully grilling burgers for customers or even waiting tables if he saw that all the waitresses were busy. Babe, on the other hand, was the elan man. He loved making personal stops at each table to get acquainted with new diners, finding out who they were and where they were from. He never tired of entertaining them with a local story or a joke. He also never missed a chance to chat with regulars as well, to catch up on current events and make sure they, too, felt at home. But in the brief span of an hour or so in time, all of this would change. In September of 1973, late on a Sunday afternoon, tragedy struck a vicious blow to the Porter family and to the entire neighborhood. The shock which followed hit the rural community with such force that years later most residents can still remember just where they were and what they were doing at the time they heard the news. It began as such a simple thing. A line between the restaurant and a septic tank had become blocked on this busy Sunday afternoon and was causing problems inside the restaurant. As usual, it was Duke who took charge of the situation, using a plumbers snake-type wire, he at first attempted to work through the tank's above-ground opening to clear the troublesome line. When this failed, he lowered himself into the septic tank to work from the inside as he had done on other occasions. There was nothing to warn him that this time would be any different. But deadly methane and Sulphur gases had formed inside the tank and was thought to have been hovering near its floor. Before Duke could have been aware of danger it was too late. He was overcome by the lethal fumes. Babe had stayed beside the tank's opening and no one knows for sure what took place for the two men were alone. But it was assumed that Babe heard or saw something which alerted him that his son was in trouble. Instinctively he went to his aid, only to be met with the same fate. Minutes later Elcylue walked out to the septic tank and when she received no response to her call, she looked inside and saw that both men had collapsed. A frantic call for help went out and was answered swiftly as area ambulances, rescue teams and fire departments rushed to the scene. Scores of friends and neighbors gathered in hopes they might be able to help. The evening became a nightmare which seemed unending as the distraught family waited. Before that night would end, father and son had lost their lives, as had 17-year-old Ricky Joe Jessee, the first one who attempted to reach the Porter men. Before the enemy here was recognized, several others who entered the tank were overcome by fumes also and had to be rushed to the hospital by the waiting ambulances. Among them were David Smith, Jamie Edwards, Maxie Caffee and Junior Jessee. There may have been others as well. Finally after covering his mouth and nose with several thicknesses of cloth, Tommy Scroggy was able to stay in the tank long enough to secure ropes about the men before having to be brought back to the surface himself. Kathleen Porter, her daughter-in-law and her granddaughters were devastated. The Sulphur Well community was numb. Their funerals were attended by hundreds of mourners. Later, commenting on their closeness, Duke's widow Elcylue said, "They were always together in everything they did in life, and it seems only fitting that they are together in death." Following the funerals the restaurant was closed for a time while Kathleen, Elcylue and fifteen year old Mary Helen struggled to get their shattered lives back into some kind of order. Jessica Lou, at just fifteen months, was unable, oblivious to the pain they had to handle. When the restaurant was finally reopened Kathleen remembers that crowds came in even greater numbers than before. Heart problems forced her retirement and the restaurant passed out of the Porter hands to Mitchell and Norma Ervin. That's when Porter's Restaurant became the Lighthouse Restaurant. The full article by Geniece Marcum is at this link in Columbia Magazine archives, or copy the link below and paste into your browser: https://www.columbiamagazine.com/index.php?sid=27519 This story was posted on 2023-12-19 19:56:18
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