Oral History Interview with Hattie Clements

[Begin Interview] Hite: The following is an interview with Hattie Clements by Mary Hite for the Kentucky Oral History Commission. The topic, Nelson County, the Prohibition in Nelson County, its causes and effects. Miss Clements, can you tell us a little bit about yourself? When you were born.

Clements: My name is Hattie Clements, and I was born in Nelson County. And my father's name was W.L. Thompson, and my mother was Harriet (Tambern?). And I live on the same farm that was settled by my forefathers in 1801. My great-great-grandfather came here from Maryland and settled this land. And well, we've just been there ever since.

Hite: That's interesting 1:00that you've been there so long. Can you tell us a little bit about what you've done over your life? Your education and--

Clements: Well, I was educated in the public schools of Nelson County. I went to (Botman?) school in a one-room schoolhouse. And then I went to Frederickstown. When I went to (Botlin?) school, we had six months school. And school would be out soon after Christmas. And when we got a little older, my father decided we should be going nine months. So we started driving the buggy to Fredericksburg and going to school down there. And then I went to high school and graduated (?) I married Marion Clements and have nine children. And most of my children are in Nelson County.

Hite: 2:00I hear you've written your memoirs for your grandchildren, Miss Clements. Can you tell us a little bit about that?

Clements: Well, it's really funny that you asked me at this time about the moonshine days, because that was one of the topics I had written that I wanted my grandchildren to know about and to understand. And to understand the moonshine days in Nelson County, we have to go back quite a bit in history. Because when the early settlers first came to Kentucky, well the first thing they did was clear the land and raise corn. And my great-great-grandfather brought two stills with him when he came to Kentucky. And so this became just a way of life in Nelson County that everybody was implicated 3:00in whiskey in some manner. And it was one way that they could ship their corn to New Orleans. Because if they had sent the corn, it probably would have sprouted before it got there. So they converted it into whiskey, and shipped the whiskey to New Orleans. So just about everybody made whiskey or had something to do with whiskey. In Nelson County, just about everybody was connected with whiskey in some fashion. There was an old saying, said some stole it and some told on the ones that did, and some made it, some worked at distilleries, and some were revenuers, and some preached against it. But if you think your family had nothing to do with it, you'd probably be surprised. I was not very old at the time, but I well remember going out on an early morning, you could smell 4:00the yeast on the breeze. And my father would say, "So and so's got his still going this morning." And sometimes we'd see a strange man ride by and Papa would say, "Well, Old Mr. Moore's snooping around again. He knows there's a still somewhere." There were certain men that possessed the art of the trade. And people set them up to realize half of the proceeds without taking any of the chances. I had a friend that I went to school with, and she said that the girls at school ridiculed her because her father was serving time in jail. And the two girls that did most of the talking, it was their father that owned the still and that paid her father to take the rap. And she said she had to keep quiet because she knew her family would suffer if they didn't have that money. And you know, I bet those ladies today would 5:00say they didn't have a thing to do with moonshining. There were some people that made the whiskey just to get a few dollars to get their family out from a rock and a hard place. But there was others that tried to become wealthy, and they did. And there's still some of that money floating around in Nelson County today from those big moonshiners. I knew one lady, she told me that while her husband was serving time, that she moved to Louisville and she rented a three story house and set up a crew on the third floor. The house and the crew were so well equipped that they could clear everything out within an hour. One day she said the officers came to the door and she told them that she was the maid. And they went to secure a warrant, and when they got back, everything was gone. I also knew another man 6:00that made whiskey in the hills of Washington County. And he realized a small amount of cash, but he used it very wisely and he set up a trade that changed the lives of many people in Washington and Nelson County. He became quite wealthy and died a very respected man. People did not see whiskey as a vice. The only vice came out of the weakness in the people that abused it. People did not know that drinking was a disease, and looked down on the drunkard, not the one who provided the whiskey. I suppose I was about five and my brother was in and out of the hospital all the time. The doctor's bills were discussed with very sad faces. My brother was a hemophiliac. He had a blood disease, and very little was known about it in those days. The doctor said he would not live past 7:00sixteen. Papa wanted to take him to the special blood doctor. This was when my father decided to start a still. My mother was very much against it, but my father was sure he could get in it and out of it before anybody even knew it. He secured one of the local moonshiners and laid plans. The sacks of corn were put on the henhouse roof and kept there so the corn could sprout. I don't know what that had to do with it, but I just remember those sacks being up on the henhouse. My uncle owned an old farm near us, and it was deserted and had grown up in bushes. The still was put near the springs, behind the old house. The thick underbrush hid it securely. It was on Sunday morning the mash was ready. My father started out that morning 8:00and when he got near the still, he said he thought there must be something wrong. It was just too quiet. The birds were usually singing. He didn't hear a thing. So he meandered down the path as if he were looking for his horses and calling them by name when an officer yelled, "Halt!" and jumped out in front of him. Papa said he mustered up all the courage he could to sound casual. He asked, "Have you seen any horses over here?" He said, "Mine got out last night. It's Sunday morning, and the kids have to go to church." The officer cautioned him to be quiet, and pulled him back in the bushes. He said he knew his man would be along in a minute, and he wondered what he could do to warn him. And when about that time he heard the clip clop of his boots and a merry whistling tune. About that time, the officer yelled, "Halt!" And Papa said he never saw such action in his life. (Wood?) was off 9:00through the bushes like a rabbit. One boot went one way, another boot went the other way. He wound up at our house with both socks raveled off up to the ankles. He put on my father's best suit and hat while my brother Ed saddled the horse. And he rode up the road past my father and the revenue officers. After Wood took off through the bushes, the officers asked Papa if he knew who that was. Papa answered, "I never knew anyone that could run that fast in my life." He said that was the truth. The officer was not sure this man with the nice soft voice was not implicated. So he told him he would have to take him in. Papa asked him if he could go home and tell his wife where he was and tell her he couldn't find the horses. After Wood had told Mama they would be along with Papa in a few minutes, Mama quickly put ham 10:00in the skillet and biscuits in the oven. Papa told the men they were free to search if they so desired. One of the officers seemed very suspicious. And I believe his name was, seemed like his name was Hunter. And he began to look around. And when Mama called them to breakfast, after he tasted Mama's red eye gravy and biscuit and ham, he soon forgot all about it. And can you believe the main guy left three dollars under his plate when he left. They never knew if it was Papa's acting or Mama's biscuit. But the main fellow looked at his men and said, "There's nothing here." Turned and thanked my mother for the breakfast, shook hands with my father, and left. This ended my father's career as a moonshiner. [End Interview.]