Oral History Interview with Edward F. Prichard, Jr., November 8, 1982

The following is an unrehearsed interview with Edward F. Prichard, Jr. for the Edward F. Prichard, Jr. Oral History Project. The interview was conducted by Vic Hellard in , on November 8, 1982.

Hellard: conducted by Vic Hellard, Jr., starting at twelve o’clock on the eighth day of November, 1982. Mr. Prichard, let’s start off first of all with—let me ask you in the course of these interviews, could you give me some names of individuals that you think I ought to talk with?

:Oh, yes, I can give you some.

Hellard:I wish you would, please.

:You could talk with, of course, John Ed Pearce if you haven’t already. You could talk with, oh, some people that knew me when I was very young. For example I have a few school teachers left that taught me when I was in high school; most of them are gone, but one who’s still living that taught me in junior high school is Miss Ethel Congleton in who is in her late eighties approaching ninety. Also taught Lucy [] at . I guess you could certainly talk with Bert Combs, Ned Breathitt. I don’t know whether Earle Clements would be available. Ed Farris, you know him don’t you?

Hellard:Yes, indeed.

: He’s known me through many years as far as public and private life was concerned. People that have been associated with me in the higher education field, like Harris Neider, Dr. A. D. Albright, other members of the Council on Higher Education that you can pick out. Many of them are—names are known to you; I won’t list them all.

Hellard:Okay.

:Al Smith, oh, we could think of a lot more. You want to throw—

Hellard:What about some—what about some, some, just plain county politicians?

:Oh, yes—trying to think through the years. Some of them are getting old. Marie Turner, she’s not just a plain county politician, but she’s known me through many years. I suppose you could talk to Governor Chandler. If you have enough of a relationship to he could give you a side [laughs] that others might not give you.

Hellard:I don’t know that I want to get into that much trouble. What about folks outside of , maybe knew you in your years.

: Oh, there are lots of them. Joseph Rauh, prominent attorney in , has known me through many years, and we’ve been very close. Ken Galbraith we worked together in . Arthur Schlesinger has been a close friend for many years. Katherine Graham. Henry Reuss, R-E-U-S-S, who’s now retiring as Chairman of the Joint Economic Committee of the Congress, been in the Congress from for thirty years, was a roommate.

Hellard:R-U-E-S-S?

: R-E-U-S-S. Well, Benjamin Cohen, but he’s too old and probably his mind is slipping now. I don’t know whether he could endure it. He is about eighty-nine years old, and he’s begun to fail very badly.

Hellard:Is he also in D.C.?

:Umhmm. Yeah. Was very active in the administration. Corcoran and Cohen. Tom Corcoran’s is dead. James Rowe, who was a law partner of Tom Corcorans, been a friend of forty years.

[microphone noise]

Hellard:Test the microphone.

:I expect you could talk to Barry Bingham, Sr.

Hellard:Let me ask you specifically about some of the—is there anyone that I could talk to with reference at the time you returned from to ? Any other friends then that I could talk to about you, like Bob Houlihan?

:Bob Houlihan is a longtime friend, started out practicing in my office in . Bob has known me intimately, introduced my wi—Lucy and me. He was in our wedding, and they—we’ve been close through all the years, one of my very closest friends.

Hellard:Now, if you will hold on now for just a minute, Mr. Prichard, let me just—

:Another person that unfortunately is dead that would have known me personally through as long a period of my life as anybody was Bill Baldwin over at Paris, who was a very intimate friend from childhood. Our mothers grew up together and we grew up together, but he’s dead. However, his younger brother, Grover Baldwin, who’s now still a practicing lawyer over at Paris, has known me through—through most of my life. I suppose if you want to get a—another view, you could talk to Phil Ardery. You know, we’ve had a peculiar relationship but we’re not on unfriendly terms now. If you know the history of all that went on in part of my life, you know that he and his father played some part in it.

Hellard:Yes.

Prichard:So I would see no reason why you shouldn’t talk to him. Oh—

Hellard:How about any lobbyists? Are there any lobbyists around like Curney Cole or—

Prichard:Curney Cole [laughing] has known me for a long time and we’ve been very close. That’s absolutely right. Curney Cole knows a lot about periods in my life and was a—you know, has been a good friend. June Taylor has been very close to me through the years. Cattie Lou Miller has been very close to me through the years. Judge Meigs has known me well through many years. Mr. Marion Ryder, who is somewhat old now. He’d be eight—he’s eighty years old, but he knows a lot about me—

Hellard:Uh-huh.

Prichard:—and we’ve been close friends going back many years. I expect I’ve known—Mr. Ryder and I first knew each other fifty years ago. Another person I have known through many years that’s been close to me is Betty Jo Hike, over at Paris. You know her, don’t you?

Hellard:She’s the county clerk.

Prichard:County Clerk for years and a longtime personal friend.

Hellard:Did she take over from your—your—your mentor, so to speak? Was—

Prichard:Mr. Patton?

Hellard:Yes.

Prichard:She took over from his son.

Hellard:His son.

Prichard:His son, you know, that family held that office for a hundred years. Pierce Patton’s father was clerk for twenty-five or thirty years. Mr. Patton himself was clerk for something over forty years.

Hellard:You and he were—were—were close, were you not?

Prichard:Very close. He was a close friend of my father’s first, and then of me. Kind of reared me in politics. Known as “Baldy” Patton.

Hellard:Okay. Now, is there a—is there any problem me talking to your boys? Louis and Nathan and—

Prichard:None whatever.

Hellard:—Allen. I’d like to—

Prichard:None whatever.

Hellard:I think they can offer a very good perspective. Let me start now with—with when you were born and into what circumstances you were born, and where you were born.

Prichard:Well, I was born in Paris [Kentucky], January 21, 1915, in what has been said to me was one of the coldest [laughing] winters we ever had up to that time. I was born at home, not in the hospital, which was typical of that time. At that time, my father was engaged in farming and in a automobile—he was an automobile dealer and a farm implement dealer over in Paris, was in partnership with Mr. Charlie Ball in the firm of Prichard and Ball, and he was also beginning to get a little bit into the thoroughbred horse business.

Hellard:Was your father and your mother—were your father and mother both natives of Bourbon County?

Prichard:Technically, neither one was, although they both had roots in Bourbon County. My father was born in Huntington, West Virginia, because his father, who was a doctor and was a native of the Big Sandy Valley Region in—in northeastern Kentucky, had studied medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, and when he finished his medical course he located in Huntington to practice there. That was then kind of a growing railroad town, and he married my grandmother, who was from Bourbon County, whom he had met at a wedding in which they were both—I believe he was the best man and she was one of the bridesmaids, over at Winchester.

Hellard:Let me cut it off just a minute.

[interuption in tape]

Prichard:My mother was born in Maysville, Kentucky. Her father was a native of Mason County, but her mother had long roots and deep roots in Bourbon County. And my grandfather and grandmother, shortly after they married, moved to—my mother having, as I said, been born in Maysville, my Grandfather and Grandmother Power moved from Maysville to Paris where they—

Hellard:Is that P-O-W-E-R, Power?

Prichard: Yes, P-O-W-E-R, that was my mother’s maiden name, Allene A double-L E-N-E Power.

Hellard:Did you have brothers or sisters?

Prichard:I have one brother who is two years younger than I, who now lives in California, where he has lived ever since he was left—let out of the service after World War II. And he is now in the process of moving back; he’s retired and moving back to Paris, where he’s bought a home. He’s never married. He’s my only sibling.

Hellard:As a child did you have—did you mother pretty well rear you as a child, or were you in a situation where you had a—a mammy or a maid or—

Prichard:Well, in my early life I had a nurse, whose name was—I think her last name was really Duckworth, but we always called her Lucy Duck.

Hellard:Lucy Duck.

Prichard:And she was—she was sort of my nurse in my earlier years.

Hellard:How long was that?

Prichard:Oh, I’d say two or three years, maybe four at the most. I can’t be sure, but she was very close to us as long as she lived. I can remember that she came to our wedding when Lucy and I were married and used to send us Christmas cards, and we always gave her a little something at Christmas, so we were very close to Lucy Duck. She had a delightful personality, was very jolly and full of fun, and we loved her very much.

Hellard:Was she a live-in maid?

Prichard:No. She was not. My mother and father never had live-in maids any time they lived in town. They alternated between town and country some, and when we lived in the country we usually had somebody living in, but in town we never had live-in.

Hellard:Was Lucy Duck white or black?

Prichard:Black.

Hellard:How would you describe your mother from your earliest recollections?

Prichard:Well, my mother was—I suppose I was —even though we had a nurse when we were real young, I suppose I was reared, you might say, sort of a mother’s boy. My father was out on business, was away a good deal as he got more active in the horse business. My mother was very close to us, and I would say she was dominant in my upbringing, for—for good or ill.

Hellard:What were her main interests in life?

Prichard:Well, she—she was very literary, very musical; she had a beautiful voice and sang a great deal, sang at church, sang at weddings and funerals and concerts, things of that sort, not professionally, although she did for a while sing in a—in a—the Presbyterian Church choir over there for some modest compensation. But she was very musical and was—her voice was considered very beautiful. She read a great deal. She was extremely well educated. She graduated from Science Hill School, where both she and my grandmother had gone to boarding school, over at Shelbyville, and then she we—a graduate from Wellesley College and had all those interests. She was much admired and beloved.

Hellard:Did you have the opportunity to accompany her on any occasions when she was singing, or—

Prichard:Oh, some. Yes, I’ve heard her sing many times. I don’t know that I accompanied her all the time, but I— Oh yes, I heard her sing lots of times, and she used to teach me little songs and so forth when I was small boy and, you know, read to me a great deal. We also had a great aunt, my mother’s aunt, who lived with us a great deal of the time when we—my brother and I—were young. You know, the extended family was much more in vogue then. I suppose she lived with us for twenty years or more. Her name was Mary Bashford; she was my Grandmother Power’s sister. She had a great deal to do with our rearing. She read to us a great deal and would take us with her to call on her friends in the evenings. I never heard of a babysitter in our youth. That—that word was unheard of. And I suppose our Aunt Mary Bashford was a kind of a built-in babysitter. She lived with us at home.

Hellard:What sorts of things would they read to you? Just anything and everything, or was—

Prichard:Oh, a lot of—

Hellard:—classics, or—

Prichard:Class—yes, you know, read Shakespeare and Dickens, those were favorites and, you know, all the things like Grimm’s Fairy Tales and, you know, the other one, those sort of children’s books and fairy tales, and Alice in Wonderland. Then we had a set of books that were much in vogue then for children or young people called the The Book of Knowledge. It had, I think, about twenty volumes, and it had all sorts of things in it. It had history, and it—and it had excerpts from literary classics in it, and it had stories about famous authors, and that was a great favorite of ours. And my Aunt Mary and mother would read to us a lot from the The Book of Knowledge and, you know, from the Bible sometimes, and poetry, Robert Louis Stevenson, and—

Hellard:Do you ever recall your mother at any early age having ambitions for you?

Prichard:Oh, it would be hard to say. I’m sure she did, but she never communicated them that much. She never said to me that I was to be a certain thing, but I’m sure that she—

Hellard:Well she certainly encouraged you intellectually.

Prichard:Oh, yes, and not only that, but probably—probably encouraged me in a certain precocity. She was very proud of the fact that she and my great aunt had, you know, taught me to read when I was about four, and I can one recall one instance, for instance, which would indicate her attitude. She—she would bring me the New York Times and I would read to—stories on the front page, you know, when I was quite young, and she had an older friend whose daughter was a longtime friend of hers and lived away from Kentucky. He was in the—in the bank over at Paris, Mr. William Myall, M-Y-A double L, and he was very interested in all sorts of intellectual things and literature and reading. She once told Mr. Myall that I—she always called me Sonny—that Sonny could read the New York Times. And he said, “I don’t believe it, Allene; I must have an oracular demonstration.” So at the age of four or five, she took me up to Mr. Myall’s house one evening, and I was told to read the first page of the New York Times [both laugh] to Mr. Myall. He then became convinced. I would say she pushed me, so much so that when I started to school I was able to, you know, read and spell ahead of my schoolmates; not so good in arithmetic and writing. I was—I had a little difficulty learning to write legibly.

Hellard:Your talking about penmanship only?

Prichard:Penmanship, yes, that’s right. Now, spelling I—I—I have picked up pretty well and always— I can remember, I was went—started to a little private school where they had all the grades, you know, from the first through the eighth grade in one room, and I would listen to the older classes and picked up a lot that way. And I remember once when I was there the second year, I won the spelling match for the whole school. And mother pushed me along those lines. My father always seemed disappointed that I was not more interested in sports and athletics. I was—tended to be rather physically lazy and I suppose was what you might call a bookworm and maybe a little bit of a showoff, and he was—he had been an athlete in college, played baseball in college and football in college and in my day was quite an active golfer and still was playing baseball as an amateur—

Hellard:Well, let me—let me interrupt and continue with your mother just a minute. Obviously she was a lady of—an active lady in the community.

Prichard:Oh yeah.

Hellard:Was she—was she—did she have political persuasions? Was she active in political—

Prichard:Never.

Hellard:—causes?

Prichard:Never to my knowledge, and always eschewed it, always claimed that she wasn’t interested in politics and didn’t like politics. She actually had very strong opinions and convictions.

Hellard:Such as?

Prichard:Well, she was a, you know, she was a strong Democrat, strong, great admirer of President [Woodrow] Wilson. Wilson was a boyhood hero in our family. In later years she was a strong supporter of Mr. [Franklin] Roosevelt, of Adlai Stevenson, [Harry] Truman. She was what I’d call a liberal Democrat in her views, but she never was active in politics. I never knew her to go to political meetings, take an active or open part in any political campaigns, and always a little inclined to put down my father’s interest and mine in the nuts and bolts of politics.

Hellard:Well, did she express these views at home?

Prichard:Oh, yes—

Hellard:Was she free to—

Prichard:Oh—

Hellard:—to communicate them to you and your brother?

Prichard:Oh, certainly she did communicate them. Oh, we discussed politics actively.

Hellard:Why was Woodrow Wilson a boyhood hero?

Prichard:Oh, I suppose because he was a Democratic President and because he was for the League of Nations, which I thought was great, and of course he had been our war president, and I was born in his administration and I suppose just because he was a Democratic president and war leader and sponsored the League of Nations, and I was raised to believe that those were great things and that he was a great president.

Hellard:What was your—your mother’s racial attitudes? Typical of the times or not?

Prichard:Oh, no, no, no. Her attitudes were very— I can recall, for instance, that there was a black singer—now this was a little later, but it was in my early teens or a little younger—a black singer, who had originally lived in Louisville, named Roland Hayes, had a beautiful voice and was a very well known nationally as a singer, a tenor, I believe. And when he would come to Lexington—Mother went to all the concerts in Lexington, what would now be the Concert Series out at the Coliseum; it was then somewhere else in Lexington. And she always went to hear Roland Hayes, and of course there were some people then who on account of racial attitudes didn’t want to go hear him because that implied treating him—treating him as something of an equal, and she made it a point to make a personal friendship with him, and they exchanged letters through a good many years. And she—I can recall when I was quite young, Edith [Elizabeth] Maddox Roberts, you know, a very great Kentucky writer, really great writer, who lived down in Springfield and wrote two very wonderful novels, one called The Time of Man and the other called My Heart and My Flesh, which was about racial attitudes, the second one was, and I my mother gave that to me to read when I was quite young. No, her racial attitudes were very broad for her time. My father’s were more conventional, but as the years went on, I think he was influenced by my mother and me, and when he was in the legislature later after I was grown, he always voted for all the civil rights measures that came up, such as they were in his time.

Hellard:Well your Aunt Mary Bashford, was—was her attitude similar to that of your mother’s?

Prichard:Oh, I’m not sure. She was a mean Republican. [Hellard laughs] The Bashford’s were Union people in the Civil War and my Great-Grandfather Bashford had been the leader of the Republican Party in Bourbon County for many years after the Civil War, ran for sheriff in 19—in 1867 on the Republican ticket with a black deputy and he was defeated, and on election night he was hanged in effigy in front of the courthouse. So that the Bashfords were—were very staunch Republicans. And I can remember in the 1920 presidential election, when I was five years old, I believe, my Aunt Mary took me to the polling place, which would be ours, and that was up at the home of Mr. W. G. McClintock in his garage. And so they gave me a sample ballot and told me I could vote. And my Aunt Mary told me to vote for [Warren] Harding and [James] Cox but I voted—Harding and [Calvin] Coolidge—but I voted for Cox and [Franklin] Roosevelt, and that made her quite angry and irritated. She was a great admirer, though, of Theodore Roosevelt. Now I don’t know what her racial attitudes were, I would have said that they were moderate but not dissimilar to most of the people in the community.

Hellard:Did your mother suffer any social consequences because of it?

Prichard:Oh, no, no, no, not at all, I don’t recall anything.

Hellard:Let’s talk about your father for a minute. He—when did he get into the legislature? Well, first off, when did he become active in politics?

Prichard:All his life as far as I know. He was active in politics before I was born and continued to be so, well, all through his life. He didn’t run for the legislature till 1937, when I was finished college and in law school, but he was very active in—in various campaigns and, you know, usually served as precinct committeeman, election officer, went out and raised money to help finance the local campaigns.

Hellard:Had he ever been a candidate for anything prior to the legislature?

Prichard:No, never had.

Hellard:Had his father been active in politics at all?

Prichard:No, his father, well, his father was chairman of the school board in Huntington, West Virginia and was a strong Democrat but I—I don’t think he ever ran for office or held office. His father died, my Grandfather Prichard died when he was 44 years old and my grandmother then moved back to Kentucky almost immediately and reared her two sons there. Moved back to Bourbon County.

Hellard:Did your father ever say where he acquired his interest in politics?

Prichard:Acquired it from his grandfather. His grandfather had been active in politics all his life and was a magistrate on the Fiscal Court for about twenty years in Bourbon County and very active in the Democratic organization there. And I’m sure that’s where Daddy acquired his interest.

Hellard:At—at what point did he pass that interest on to you.

Prichard:I guess from birth. I can’t remember when we didn’t talk politics, at the breakfast table, the dinner table, and the supper table. All the time. Local races, state races, legislative races, presidential elections.

Hellard:At what point did you start going to the Court House? That was at an early age wasn’t it? Where you meet Mr. [Pearce] Paton?

Prichard:Well, I meet Mr. Paton I guess before I can remember almost. But I started going to the courthouse when I was about ten years old. They had a murder trial there. There was an old gentleman out at Clintonville. We had a farm near Clintonville where we used to live in the summertime for several years. It was near a little railroad stop called Escondida about halfway between Paris and Winchester on the L&M, south of Paris. That was in the Clintonville voting precinct. The president of the bank in Clintonville, there was a little bank there and the president of it was Mr. Frank Buchanan. Mr. Buchanan at one time rented our farm and was a great friend of our family’s. And his son, Forest Buchanan later rented that farm or farmed it on the share. And these robbers came there to hold up the bank in—in Clintonville and Mr. Buchanan thought they were joking and resisted them and they killed him. And that created a great excitement in the county and they located these fellows. They were from up in Newport, four of them. I can remember their names now. Hall, Newhouse, and Mullins. Two of them were named Mullins and Farrell and they were apprehended. And one of the Mullins turned state’s evidence, as they used to call it, and most all of them except Mullins got the death penalty. And the courthouse was crowded and the sheriff appointed all the living former sheriffs as bailiffs to prevent a mob from lynching them and the mob didn’t. No mob formed. But the courthouse was crowded and I attended those trials.

Hellard:What motivated you to attend those trials? Just because you knew the man?

Prichard:Partly that and then I had a friend and sometime playmate, who was just a little older than I was, named Buck Woodford—Buckner Woodford—and he was very interested in that trial. His father was a banker in Paris. In fact his son is president of the Bourbon Agriculture Bank in Paris now. And he wanted to go and I went with him. And we listened and in the course of that I formed a close friendship as a little boy with Judge Ben G. Williams, then Circuit Judge, who was from Frankfort here. Still has daughters living here. He’s the mother of Miss Taylor Hay, father of Miss Taylor Hay and Mrs. Witherspoon and he had a whole bunch of daughters. All of them went to Science Hill.

Hellard:Was that murder trial the first trial you attended?

Prichad: Oh yes. But I wanted to go from then on. I went to a lot them. As soon as school was over.

Hellard:What did you find most fascinating about them?

Prichard:Everything. Everything about it. Just like going to a play, Vic. It was like going—in those days, a trial was a source of excitement and drama in a small town, and people went to that like they might go to a rock concert now. It seems gruesome but it was true.

Hellard:No, I understand.

Prichard:And I always found the courtroom to be interesting and exciting. Then I got to attending other trials, and motion hour and everything, and I just got caught up in it, and that was probably the beginning of my desire and ambition to be a lawyer.

Hellard:Now what age were you then?

Prichard:I was ten when I started going. And all the lawyers would make over me, you know, and [Circuit Court] Judge [Ben G.] Williams would come in and get me and sit up on the bench next to him and— He might—he—in those days he didn’t drive back and forth to Frankfort. He stayed at the hotel in Paris when he was holding court there, and he would come over and eat supper at night with our family, and then we’d maybe take a walk, or at noontime he’d take me to dinner at the hotel, and we became very close. And all the lawyers would make over me and pet me. And when the judge had a hearing in chambers on motions and things like that, they’d let me go in and listen. And I began to pick up a little legal lingo and began to feel sort of at home in the courtroom.

Hellard:Why—why were you accorded this favored treatment?

Prichard:Just because they were surprised and kind of intrigued by a young boy coming around and hanging eagerly on their every word. I guess they found it a little flattering and intriguing and so forth, and they, you know how they make over somebody that does something a little unusual.

Hellard:Did your brother have any desires similar to yours?

Prichard:Never. Never. I never never heard of his going around the courthouse. Never heard of his—never heard of his taking an active part in politics. He has—since he’s been in California, he’s been interested, not active, but interested; has strong views. But, no, my brother was interested in music primarily. He was a beautiful dancer, he was—played the piano marvelously. Composed music, was a professional song writer at one time in his life. Professional musician most of his life. Pianist. Not classical now, but you know, at restaurants and night clubs and used to play at Joyland when he was in college, things like that. He went to the University of Kentucky. Majored in modern languages and had a brilliant record there, was a junior—Phi Beta Kappa his junior year. But he never pursued that professionally he went in—he worked for a radio station in Lexington as soon as he finished college and then went in the Army and when he got out located in California and worked in music. All of his—worked for a music publishing company for awhile, had various combos and played at various clubs and so forth there until he retired. And—but never—never really interested in politics in the sense I’m talking about.

Hellard:Well, besides your father, you know, simply discussing politics over the dinner table, and being active in politics, did he ever actively encourage you to be active in politics?

Prichard:Well, he never had to. I mean, you know, he just took for granted I was, because I was from the earliest times and continued to be, and then he and I would, you know, kind of collaborate in local political affairs when I was around. And never was there any question of my having to be influenced. Other things influenced me in that direction when I began to hang around the courthouse. Then I, of course, got closer then ever to Mr. [Pearce] Paton, who was his close friend. And Mr. Paton probably encouraged me more than my father did. I mean, he just sort of took me into the organization, so to speak, and would talk to me about the various stratagems and tactics they were going to use, and took me to conventions, and took me, I remember when I was thirteen in 1928 when Al Smith was going to run, he took me to the Democratic state convention in Lexington. Took me to political speakings and would see that I came to them. I would go to speakings at night during campaigns when people like [A. O.] Stanley and [Alben] Barkley, and even Ed Morrow when he came as a Republican, I would go to hear.

Hellard:Let’s talk about when you went to school.

Prichard:Now, let me say about the political attitudes of my grandparents. My grandmother was a traditional Democrat, Grandmother Prichard. I don’t know that she ever took an active part but she had strong feelings and being the daughter of a Confederate soldier, she was always a strong Democrat. How much she got interested in the issues I was never quite sure. On my mother’s side my Grandfather Power was an independent Democrat. He—he—he would stray from his party, particularly if an issue he called a moral issue was involved. He was a very strong moralist, somewhat a Puritan. He was a very powerful leader in the Methodist Church; served on the board of trustees over at Kentucky Wesleyan College. Was very—he was a business man. He was—operated a wholesale grocery and a small broom factory over there and as a sideline he was—had saddle horses. But he was a strong prohibitionist, very much opposed to pari-mutuel betting and that caused silent tensions in our family because my father was in the horse business and worked very hard for candidates that were in favor of pari-mutuel betting and my grandfather was always supporting candidates that were against it and so those were things we didn’t talk about very much when grandparents were around. But I was influenced a lot, my grandparents on my mother’s side had good deal to do with my rearing. My mother was not and father were not terribly active in the church. Mother in later years sang in the Presbyterian Church but they weren’t very active. My father belonged to the Christian Church and he very seldom went there. So my religious upbringing was pretty much entrusted to my Grandmother and Grandfather Power and they controlled that very much and I went to Sunday school and church every time and was president of the Epworth League and very active as a young person in the Methodist Church. And so they would take me to all sorts of affairs, meetings, revivals, annual conferences of the Methodist Church. So they had a lot of influence in some ways on me; maybe I reacted against it later but—

Hellard:When you went to school, who was your teacher, do you remember your teaching at first grade schooling?

Prichard:Uh-huh. That was Mrs. Fanniebelle Sullivan, now that’s F-A-N-N-I- I guess F-A-N-N-I-E-B-E-L-L-E, one word. She was a very positive character, taught school for many years. Quit teaching after I had been two years of school with her, but she was a strong disciplinarian, very fundamental and old fashion in her attitudes. She quit teaching school because she was elected Police Judge by the City Council and served in that capacity for many years.

Hellard:Was that a position she sought?

Prichard: Well the Council elected her.

Hellard:Has she been active in politics any since?

Prichard:Active in things like the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and the Women’s Club. She was president of the Kentucky Federation of Women’s Clubs. Active in civic affairs; not what I would call politics in the nuts and bolts—

Hellard:In the raw sense.

Prichard:—things.

Hellard:What kind of relationship did you enjoy with Miss Fanniebelle?

Prichard:Oh, I was her pet. She was always pushing me and showing me off because I did well. She was very proud of me and pushed me harder. She was an excellent teacher, old fashion drill master; didn’t hesitate to use physical corporal punishment on people, not just for disciplinary infractions, but even for slowness in learning. I can remember having a classmate named Henry T. Judy, who was a very sweet-natured boy, country boy, from a good family there, I mean he was—but he rode a pony cart in from the country, I remember that. And he was a slow learner. And I’ve seen her get him up there and question him, and when he was slow and imperfect in his answers, she’d take a strap to him or just slap the dickens out of him. I mean she—she did that. It was terrible, terrible. But I’ll say this, she had the attention of everybody.

Hellard:Were you ever the recipient of—

Prichard:Not a word, no, no. I was her pet. I probably should’ve been.

Hellard:How did that cause the other children to react to you?

Prichard:Well, I never was acutely conscious of it at the time but I imagine some of them resented it, although most of them that were in that school have remained my dear friends through all the years. I think probably I was more resented when I went to the public schools later.

Hellard:Now, did you attend all eight years at this one-room schoolhouse?

Prichard:No. Only two years.

Hellard:Only two years? After she retired you went to public schooling?

Prichard:That’s right. And after two years with her, I entered the fifth grade in the public schools. So I skipped two grades. And I suspect that that’s what led to a kind of resentment. You know, here I was in the fifth grade, and I was, what, eight years old I guess, and just barely eight years old, and the rest of them were nine and ten. And I expect they on the one hand looked down on me as kind of a younger boy and the fact that I was sort of, I don’t know whether you want to say pretentious, precocious, or what, but the fact that I was doing quite well probably aroused a certain amount of resentment and scorn.

Hellard:How long was Miss Fannie a Police Judge?

Prichard:Miss Fanniebelle?

Hellard:Uh-huh.

Prichard: Oh, she must have been Police Judge for, oh, let’s see ten or twelve years.

Hellard:So I suspect you attended some of her sessions?

Prichard: At court?

Hellard:At court.

Prichard: No.

Hellard:You never did?

Prichard:Never did, no I never went to that court. No. That was usually held at night. Police Court usually sat at night and she— And you know at night I always had to do my homework. You know we always had a fairly much of a regimen at home. After we finished supper at night I was suppose to go up to my room and do my homework.

Hellard:What—what values did Miss Fanniebelle leave you with?

Prichard:Well, I guess just the belief in mostly belief in learning and education as important and the fact that you were—that one was expected to perform, one was expected to learn, and that it was discreditable not to learn. That mainly. I don’t know that she—oh, she preached conventional moral values but I don’t know that they had any more af—that had any more affect on me than what my own grandfather and grandmother did.

Hellard:So when you went into the fifth grade who was your teacher?

Prichard:Oh, Mrs. Ada K. Fishback. She was a widow. I guess then middle age had passed. Native of Lincoln County. She had lived in Paris I guess for quite a few years. She had a daughter who was married to an ophthalmologist, Dr. Stearn, who later moved to Lexington, was very successful.

Hellard:Now what regard did you have for Miss Fishback?

Prichard:Well, I—fine. We got along fine. I did well under her. I—I—most of my teachers I got along with.

Hellard:Are there any in particular—particular that stand out in your mind?

Prichard:Well, not—she was not a vivid presence but she was a competent good teacher and very kind, very matter of fact. She had a grandson that was sort of a playmate of mine, named William Clyde Huffman. And I guess at times we’d go to play at her house ’cause he and I were playmates. But I would still say that—that she and I were not really deeply intimate; but she was a good teacher and we did all right.

Hellard:How were the rest of your teachers through the grades and through high school?

Prichard:Oh, well, that’s a long list. My next teacher in the sixth grade was Miss Anna Farrell, who had taught my mother when my mother was a girl. My mother went to a little private school over there when she was a girl run by Miss Mariah Tipton, who was a very close friend of our family, and whom I remember in her old age because she had also taught my Grandmother Prichard and my Grandmother Power and my Aunt Mary Bashford. And, of course when I knew her she was old, toothless, and retired, and another mean Republican. And she and my Aunt Mary Bashford would get together and just pound on my Democratic tendencies. But anyway Miss Farrell was an Irish Catholic teaching in the public schools and she was a stern disciplinarian, hard task mistress, but a very excellent teacher and always thought she dyed her hair. My mother used to say she thought Miss Anna Farrell used a henna pack. [Hellard laughs] You ever heard of a henna pack?

Hellard:Yes, yes, indeed.

Prichard:All right. Mother said Miss Anna Farrell always used a henna pack. But she was a good teacher, always dressed very conservatively.

Hellard:Now she was your sixth grade teacher?

Prichard:Sixth grade teacher, but she was a good one. Then when I got into seventh grade, of course, I was in junior high school and we had a whole passel of teachers. Miss Congleton taught me Latin and French; Miss Helen Hunter, who’s still living and was from Nicholasville, taught me civics; Mrs. Helen Hazelrig, who was a Daughtery, sister of Dr. Charles Daughtery and descendant of Governor Garrard and was a contemporary of my mother’s, taught me history; Miss Marian Mitchell, who’s still living there over at Paris and was a classmate of my mother’s younger sister at Science Hill, taught me geography; and let’s see—Miss Louise Connell now Mrs. Louise Furgeson, still living, taught me English; and I guess Mr. Roy Pepper, who was a classmate of my father’s at Centre and came from out in the Clintonville area of Bourbon County, taught me mathematics. I believe that was my—our principal in junior high school was Mr. John Shaw. And I believe he’s got a daughter living here in Frankfort. I don’t know whether she’s a married or unmarried daughter, her name was Anna Francis Shawl; but I’ve seen her since I’ve been around Frankfort. He later went to be Superintendent of Schools at Maysville, and then Ashland, and then went into the insurance business, but—now that was our junior high school.

Hellard:During the grade school and during the junior high school did you form any—who were you friends? Did you form any friendships that lasted through the years?

Prichard:Well, yes, the Baldwin boys. Phil Ardery—that’s been an off and on deal, we go into that more length later maybe—was a close friend. A girl named Elizabeth Kinney who’s now Mrs. Hugh Brent over at Paris was a close friend through many years and classmate; started at Miss Fanniebelle’s with me and went through high school and we graduated the same time. Oh, Amos Taylor was a friend all through those years. He’s still living over at Paris, farmer, lives out on the Maysville Road. His mother was a Turney. The Turneys lived out in that part of the county and the Gatesgill boys that I was raised with and went to school with me—

Hellard:Gatesgill?

Prichard:Yeah, there’s—some of them are still living. Henry lives in Lexington. Henry Gatesgill. Bob Gatesgill lives over at Paris. They—they lived on a farm that was in their family out near Austerlitz, which is south of Paris and was close to Escondida, where one of our farms was, and their mother was a Talbot. Their mother was a sister to Miss Virgil Chapman and their mother was a Talbot. And those boys—and my mother grew up with the Talbot girls. And the Gatesgill boys were all close friends of mine through the years.

Hellard:Well during those junior high years, I guess probably more junior—junior high, were there any extracurricular activities that you—you took part in?

Prichard:Oh, dramatics, and school plays, and debates. Never took part in athletics. Now, I think my musical career was very abortive. I think I took piano lessons for about one year when I was in grade school. Never did very much at it, with it. I played the bass fiddle for about a year in a little orchestra they had over there, and that didn’t develop into much. So it was primarily debating and speaking, that sort of thing.

Hellard:Was there a formal debate club?

Prichard:Well, we called it debating teams—yes, oh, yes, that really got to—

Hellard:This was during your junior— junior high year.

Prichard:Well, a little bit in junior high, but it was much less formal then. We’d have occasional debates, but I don’t know that we had teams then, or clubs, we would just debate maybe after sch—at a certain time of school, and devote some time to it. When I got into senior high school I became very active, and was in college, but—

Hellard:But you didn’t remain—what kind of outside interests did you maintain? Reading, going to court—

Prichard:I—I really, you know, other than, oh, I liked to go to the movies. That was a great thing then. We went, you know, went to children’s parties and dances, things like that. You know, friends and their children would have parties, and we’d go and we’d have parties, and they’ed come to our house and— But I don’t suppose that—that beyond that I had—you know I would go to high school games but I never participated. I went to—in junior high school the same way. I went to basketball and football games, but— I never sang to amount to anything. Oh, we’d sing, you know, we’d have a chorus occasionally and sing at Christmas carols and things like that but—and then music was—music appreciation I guess it would be called now, was an active part of the curriculum. We had an excellent music teacher in the schools in Paris, Miss Helen Blanding, whose sister was Dean of Women at the University of Kentucky and later became president of Vassar College and we—we spent a lot time on—on music appreciation. You know, she would play records for us, classical songs, operas, concerts, things like that; and we were suppose to learn to recognize the different composers and their work.

Hellard:And many of these things, I take it you were already exposed to at home.

Prichard: That’s right. That’s right. And then there was always the practice of the schools over there to have chapel exercises at which people would come and speak, and those were interesting. I was always interested in those. I can remember the first time I ever met John Y. Brown, Sr., and this was—I don’t know whether that was when I was in junior high school or senior high school, but he came over there as a young man to speak at a chapel exercise in our school, and I—I—I was captivated by him. He was a marvelous speaker, and I remember that very well, and that’s bound to have been more than fifty years ago and—

Hellard:Would you like to talk about it?

Prichard:No, I don’t really. I don’t remember, but I know he was good. But we had others that weren’t so good. We had a former congressman from Georgia who would run as a prohibitionist candidate for president, who was a cripple, named William D. Upshaw, and he was a fraud if I ever heard one. And he came and spoke. And then they had an old Dr. [ Ozier George] Mingledorff, who had a Bismarck Prussian haircut, and the Kaiser mus—mustache, and a frock coat, and he came and preach—talked to us about the evils of masturbation, and [Hellard laughs] that was to the boys alone. Scared everybody to death.

Hellard:[Laughs] You were at—you were in the Paris Independent School System?

Prichard:Yes, that’s right.

Hellard:Is it—

Prichard:Which was then considered a much superior system to the Bourbon County Schools, which were a step—

[end of tape]

Hellard:—one, side two, November 8, interview. Okay, we’re now recording again.

Prichard:I’m sure that during this period when I was in school at Paris that there were a lot of people, though I’m not wholly cognizant of who they were or how strongly they felt, that regarded me as an obnoxious little turd, smart aleck, mama’s boy, precocious, always ready to display my knowledge and such talents as I had. Encouraged by teachers and parents to be that way, not necessarily consciously, but I’m sure there was a feeling. And I think in John Ed’s [Pearce] pieces he caught that, through Miss Zerelda Noland if nowhere else, who was my high school English teacher and is now dead I’m sorry to say. And I think if you read that article carefully, which I know you have, you’ll catch that. And I think there was, you know, a lot of truth to that. I was a kind of a lopsided character. I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a hail-fellow-well-met or—

Hellard:I was—I was going to come to that at—at—at the point —there was a— a—a—the pre—the pre-Washington days, or the post-Washington days, and I was wanting to get the Prichard beforehand and the Prich that came out—that came out of jail, because I think that had to be a very difficult, trying experience for you. I think that at that point the personality changes so I think that what your saying is—is probably true and probably would be true of anyone in your situation at that time or even today.

Prichard:It’d be remarkable if it wasn’t true. After all, I was young, extremely young, was pushed, you know, like a hot house plant to grow faster then one might.

Hellard: Let me go back to the—

Prichard:And I’m sure that—that I had attitudes that people, you know, on the one hand they—they thought it was cute, some of them, and thought it was precocious, and thought it was fun to find a, you know, a boy eight, ten years old that talked about things that usually didn’t talk to till you were grown up, and on the other hand, I’m sure there were people who said this is a little smart-ass boy showing himself off and propelled into it by his ambitious and doting mother.

Hellard:Let me—let me ask you about the Paris public school system. Was it more liberal than—than the county school system? In terms of the programs you were talking about ( ) the prohibition candidate, was it a more literary classic—

Prichard:Well I think—oh, you were exposed to much more thorough and advanced education there then you would have been in the county schools at that time. The county schools have improved a great deal since then and I’m not trying to make a comparison now but there’s no question but what the standards— I think the public schools in Paris in that period were outstandingly good.

Hellard:Now, why?

Prichard:Well, because for one reason—because we had a superintendent who was in my judgment an outstanding educator, Dr. Lee Kirkpatrick. And he—he and I, by the way, had a close and affectionate relationship till he died, and I was a pallbearer at his funeral, and he testified as a character witness for me in my trial, and we were—we were close and— You know, I’m sure he thought in some way that I added a little bit of luster to his school and he was very proud of his school. He had an excellent faculty. He—he ran it with a kind of an iron hand, more so than a prin—superintendent would today. He was— Yes, I think it was an intellectually live institution. I think you’d catch that more when we get into the high school part of it than you did before, but it was always that way. Very rigorous, Latin was required, mathematics required. It was pretty much a structured course; there were very few electives.

Hellard:Let s talk about high school.

Prichard: Right.

Hellard:Let’s talk first of all about your debate. How did you—how did you get into the debate club, who encouraged you, who was your debate coach?

Prichard:Our debate coach—

Hellard:You had a debate—you, you were a debate partner of Phil Ardery’s, were you not?

Prichard:That is correct.

Hellard: Was he the only one you had, or—

Prichard:Oh, no, there were three of us on the debating team at that time. Phil Ardery, a girl named Naomi Isgrig, and I. Naomi is still living, married, she’s away. I haven’t seen her, the last reunion I went to I don’t believe she was there. She was an excellent debater. Isgrig children were all bright as they could be. Their father was a dairyman over in the edge of Paris. And—and he had a bunch of girls—had one boy—had a bunch of girls. And he was kind of an old tightwad, and I would’ve said didn’t have any great education himself, but he believed in it for his children, and every one of them was well educated, highly educated, and smart and— And Naomi was one of our debate team. And our coach was Miss Zerelda Noland, our high school English teacher. She was dramatic coach, debate coach, and everything else over there, and she was the greatest teacher I ever knew. I was pallbearer at her funeral. And she was witty, broad, highly literate, cultivated—

Hellard:Did she recruit you for the debate team or did you—

Prichard: I don’t—I think—

Hellard:—did somebody appoint you?

Prichard:I think it was just assumed as a matter of course that I’d be on it. I guess it was just—it was a little bit like—my father-in-law told me once about a controversy developed in the Christian Church about whether Dr. A. W. Fortune in Lexington was orthodox or not. And there were charges preferred by Dr. Ira M. Boswell over in Georgetown, the Christian minister over there, that is Miss Whitney Dunlap’s father, about his—his orthodoxy. And they had a—whatever was a Campbellite equivalent of a—of a ecclesiastical tribunal—they can’t have much of one because they’re [Hellard laughs] a congregation—to inquire into this. And most of them there in the church were all on Dr. Fortune’s side so when Boswell got up to prefer his charges—he’s from Corinth, Mississippi, and had bright red hair—and somebody said, “Mr. Boswell, you call yourself Ira M. Boswell, D.D. Would you please tell us what university has conferred the honorary degree of Doctor of Divinity on you?” And they said that Brother Boswell flushed to the roots of that red hair and said, “I acquired it by the commonly claim of the people. [Hellard laughs] Now I say that I suppose I was put on the debate team by the commonly claim of the people ’cause I don’t think there ever was any doubt about it, so I don’t know what impelled me to do it.

Hellard:How many people were involved in the debate?

Prichard:Oh, there would’ve been—

Hellard:How big was the school?

Prichard:School where we graduated sixty-three or four when we graduated, so you can see how big it was. It was probably a couple of hundred to two hundred and fifty students. I would say probably six or eight of us involved in debating, but it winnowed down pretty much to a team pretty quickly. And I debated on it for three years. I guess all three of us debated on it for three years.

Hellard:And how successful were you?

Prichard:Oh, we won the state championships and won most of our debates.

Hellard:What about class—class elections for officers and that sort of thing? Did—was that—did you do that sort of thing then and if so did you take part in it?

Prichard:There was no such commonly claim of the people that—

Hellard:I see.

Prichard:—demanded me to run for that. No. I was not that popular in that sense. No. Other people were class officers.

Hellard:Well what other activities did you take part in?

Prichard:And I never had any particular ambition to be a class officer. I never thought it amounted to that much in the one hand and I’m sure I would not have been a terribly successful candidate any how, so I probably reconciled myself to it by saying it didn’t amount to much. Mmmmm?

Hellard:What other—what other outside activities were you involved in in high school?

Prichard:Oh, you know, things like the Latin Club and dramatics. I was in plays. We had a good dra—Miss Noland was our dramatic coach.

Hellard:You—you enjoyed the theater?

Prichard:Yeah. Mildly. You know, I wasn’t—I never got to the point where I really went into it whole heartedly but I—when they would tell me to try out for a play part I’d do it and enjoyed it all right. It didn’t continue into college though and—

Hellard:Well you said Phil Ardery was your best friend in high school.

Prichard:He was pretty close.

Hellard:Did you have other—other people that would fall in that category?

Prichard:Oh, there were several, as I say, the Baldwin boys, the Gateskill boys—

Hellard:What about high jinks as a kid? Did you ever engage in any kind of high jinks?

Prichard:Sure. That was a little older when we got up to high school age. Sure, we used to go out and ring people’s door bells and hide at night. Of course the game we used to play, tic-tac-toe, you know, where you would tie a rock to the door, string to the other end [laughs] make it sound like the house was going down. All those things. Occasionally turned in a false fire alarm. Scared me to death about that. I can remember just as well, one night we had a bunch—we lived in Paris most of the time then over at the corner of the house where my parents lived until Mother went to California. They lived there for nearly fifty years and we had a neighborhood there. We were cut off from town sort of by the creek. And that neighborhood, it was Houston Avenue, Second Street, and Mt. Aerie, and an addition across the railroad called White’s Addition. And I had a lot of playmates in that area and they were all friends in high school. There’s a boy name Hiram Redman who still lives up at Ashland, I think. A boy name John Gilkey, who later taught school over in Bourbon County and is dead. John Frank Collier, who’s dead, lived up the street. He was a good friend. Boy named Joe Greer who lived over in White’s Addition, his father was a jeweler. Joe was a very smart boy and he and I were—were—were close friends. Joe went away to—I saw him at a class reunion a year or so ago. He—he moved to Chicago or somewhere like that. Did well in business. They were all close friends. We had a close neighborhood group and then now don’t forget my next door neighbors over there, the Wilsons. They still live next door to where we used to live. James Wilson, now there’s a lifelong friend you can talk to. ’Cause we were at Princeton together. He was two years ahead of me, but he lived next door and we were very close. Miss Lucy and Ms. Wilson had taught my mother in school when mother was young and they—they were—had four children and two of them were about the ages of my brother and me were then around and so—they were all part of our neighborhood group. And we used to play pranks and we’d play ball in our front yard and then our basement and attic were great gathering places. We had all kinds of things stored in the attic and a lot of room up there. And we’d go up there and put on plays or we’d go down in the—in the basement and tell stories when the weather was bad and we’d play ball out in the front yard or in somebody else’s cow lot. There were cow lots over in our neighborhood, over on the creek, and those were all things we did. And at night we’d sometimes go out, although we couldn’t stay out very late, we’d go out and play pranks and occa—one time I turned in a false fire alarm. Over at the corner of Second Street and Houston Avenue, which wasn’t but two doors from our house. And we ran and went back home and all went to bed. Nobody ever said anything about it except occasionally. The fire chief over there, his name was Earl McCracken and was a great friend of my daddy’s, said to me once—Miss Fanniebelle was still the judge—he just said to me, “Son,” says “if you ever turn in another false fire alarm, Miss Fanniebelle is going to kick a bucket of shit out of you.” [Hellard laughs] And that scared me to death.

Hellard:Was that the end of your prank playing?

Prichard:Well, it was the end of doing that. [Hellard laughs] Not the end of pranks but it was the end of turning in false alarms.

Hellard:Were there any other occasions that—

Prichard:And we’d put on plays and amateur entertainments in our attic.

Hellard:You said a moment ago that you enjoyed the movies as a child.

Prichard:Uh-huh.

Hellard:Did you have a favorite actress or actresses?

Prichard:Oh, Lord, I can’t remember. Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, now see I’m going back to young ones. I remember going to see The Birth of a Nation when I was seven or eight years old and then they had these serials that would run ever Saturday, you know, and you’d go and they’d say the next chapter will be shown at this theater same day next week. And I remember there was a couple that always played in them, these serials, named Allene Ray and Walter Miller. And I don’t know who they were but they—we were interested in those serials. And then we lis—watched Tom Mix and the cowboy movies. William S. Hart and then of course, as I say, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks and—

Hellard:You recall any specific thoughts about Birth of a Nation?

Prichard:Oh, at that time, you know, I thought it was great. I—I wasn’t, you know, I was still steeped in just, not so much by my family, but I read a lot of Confederate lore, you know, and a lot of—

Hellard:Well, your great grandfather rode with [John Hunt] Morgan.

Prichard:That’s right. And I picked up a lot of that from him, you know, the Confederacy. And I was looking on The Birth of a Nation as sort of an extension of the Confederacy, and, you know, the race aspect of it just didn’t come into my consciousness the way it should. And oh, I can remember it very well. And, you know, that Ku Klux stuff in there didn’t really get any hold on me except in thinking that it was a great southern revolt. Because the Ku Klux after World War I was going strong at the same time, you know, in Kentucky, and my—my daddy just despised the Ku Klux, had contempt for them. And if he’d run into somebody in Bourbon County that he thought was a Klansman, he would say to him, “I know your not a Ku Kluxer.” He’d say, “Your not a common son of a bitch, and anybody that joined the Ku Klux is a common son of a bitch.” [Hellard laughs] And he’d do that deliberately. Things like that.

Hellard: It’s fair to say your father was a pretty outspoken man.

Prichard:Oh, very, very, very, and, you know, was always getting in brawling fisticuffs. You know, his favorite—he’d get in an argument with somebody, he’d grab him and say, “I’ll break every bone in your body.” And he could do it pretty near. He was six foot, four inches tall, great big strong man, athletic. Had a high temper. He was a—haven’t talked much about him—he was a very contradictory person. He could be the most generous, kindest, thoughtful fellow in the world, and he could be the meanest, most irascible, contentious person in the world. He had an ineradicable impulse for self-justification. Whatever he wanted was right if he wanted it bad enough. And he could rationalize a thousand ways. Some of the law—one of the old lawyers over there who was sort of our family lawyer, Judge Dennis Dundan, used to say it was too bad my father hadn’t been a lawyer, that he was the most, oh, original and skillful advocate he knew and could advocate anything that suited him and— And yet at the same time, he could be very broadminded and very—very bright in—in—in analyzing things, but—but he—he, most of the time he was sort of uncritical. He—he proceeded from raw emotion, and he was stubborn. I can remember there was a group over there—a Sunday school class at the Christian Church called the builders and they wanted to raise money to build a classroom for them in the basement of the church. And they had a thing called the “Builder’s Shindig” and they had local people, you know, kind of a show. Mother sang a solo and then they had a quartet and all kinds of things. They had a minstrel and this male quartet came out and one song they sang, I can’t remember what tune they sang it to, was, “A woodpecker lit on Ed Prichard’s head and started out to drill; he worked away for half a day and finally broke his bill.” And [Hellard laughs] mother said they were exactly right. And so he—he was that way. He was combative and yet he could be very generous, big-hearted, do anything for people that were in trouble or hard up. Had a great big garden and had a fellow spend most of his time running and gardening. Raised about an acre of, you know, strawberries, asparagus, all kinds of vegetables. And he hauled that stuff to everybody in and around our end of the county that—that he thought maybe could use a little help. I mean, he was just as generous as he could be in that way. When he had a dairy and somebody was hard up, needed a little help, he’d take milk to their door, have milk taken to their door and stuff, and never charge them for it. Things of that sort. But at the same time, if one of them didn’t vote the way he wanted them to in an election, he’d cut their milk off. [Hellard laughs]

He1lard: What kind of businessman was he?

Prichard:Well he could’ve been a great one, except for these contradictions. He had good ideas and could put them across, but then he would begin to lose a little interest in them and want to get into something else, and tried to do too many things at once, and it would sometimes cost him. He was up and down. He went broke in the horse business, in—in farming in the Depression, wasn’t all his fault, but if he had been tightfisted and careful enough it might not have happened. He had a horse in 1930 that was, you know, one of the favored horses in the [Kentucky] Derby, not the favorite, named Tannery, and he won a lot of stakes and was well bet on in the Derby. And a week before the Derby, it won a big stake at Lexington. And Mr. George Collins from over here at Frankfort, you know, an oil man that lived out at what’s now Thistleton, offered him $75,000 for the horse and half of all he won his third and fourth years in racing. Well, Daddy was crazy, but he turned it down because he said if he’s worth $75,000 to George Collins, he’s worth $150,000 to me. If he’d a sold that horse for $75,000 he could’ve paid himself and his mother out of debt, and we would have survived the Depression. Now that’s the kind of thing that stood in his light.

Hellard:You once told a story I heard about your father when he lost one of his eyes. Do you remember that story?

Prichard:Oh, he said, “Yes,” said “I’m—I—I really feel bad about this ’cause” said “people that used to call me a son of a bitch can call me a one-eyed son of a bitch.”

Hellard:I thought that spoke well for your father’s sense of humor.

Prichard:Oh, he had a sense of humor at times.

Hellard:Could he laugh at himself?

Prichard:Mmmm—

Hellard:Obviously—obviously he could.

Prichard:He could sometimes but sometimes he couldn’t too. You never knew. He was so unpredictable. Grover Baldwin, Jr., used to quote me as having said, “The trouble with daddy is he’s such a creature of the moment.” And there’s a lot of truth to that. You never knew what side of the bed he’d get up on.

Hellard:Well in high school—during high school, is that when you and—and Phil developed somewhat of a competitive spirit as well as a friendship?

Prichard: I never thought we had an extremely competitive spirit. I may have been an innocent on this, and I never knew maybe that his mother and father felt that way. Later on I’m not sure, you know, what their attitude was. I was very close, you know. I’d go out and spend weekends with them and he’d spend weekends in our house, spend the night. We just saw each other constantly, closest of friends. And of course when he came to the law school, you know, I had a lot of friends there who I’d known in college and all. I introduced him to all of them and he was—he really didn’t know very many people up there and we were roommates and—and later law partners. I never realized—I didn’t feel that way about him. When he wanted to run for the United States Senate in 1946 I supported him, put money of my own in his campaign, raised money for him. So, I don’t know. The first time I began to think that anything was different, was when we split on the governor’s race in nineteen and forty-seven, when he supported [Harry Lee] Waterfield and I supported [Earle C.] Clements. And I think he felt very resentful and so did his mother and father about it.

Hellard: Let’s go back to your high school days. Were you active in politics then in terms of being active in elections and handing out cards and—

Prichard: Oh, yes.

Hellard: —being on the inside of the strategy meetings?

Prichard: Yes I certainly was. Certainly was. Now, not, I didn’t get into any school politics. You know, truth is I never thought of that as being the real thing. [Laughs]

Hellard: Right.

Prichard: Oh, yes. And—and I can remember being let off a little early from school by Dr. Kirkpatrick to go to a speaking if it was going to be, you know, 2:30 in the afternoon or something. And sure, and on—on the primary days particularly I would hand out cards for candidates at the polls and—

Hellard:Well was the Ku Klux Klan active in Bourbon County?

Prichard:Oh, hell yes.

Hellard:You recall ever seeing many Klan demonstrations or meetings?

Prichard:No. I heard about them but I was never allowed to go around them, but I heard about them. Heard they burned a cross somewhere or other. We used to argue and talk about who was in it and who wasn’t in it.

Hellard:Were they of any real influence in terms of elections?

Prichard:Well, I think they were in the—in the early and mid-twenties. They never acquired dominant influence in Bourbon County but they were influential in the state generally. I don’t know that they ever got as powerful here as they did in Alabama, or Texas, or Georgia, or Indiana, but they had some influence. And we—I can remember hearing my father say the Ku Klux was for this one and against that one, and we were usually on opposite sides from the Ku Klux. Apparently, when they first organized in Bourbon County after the war, they got a lot of young veterans in it that were people not naturally Klansmen and who were kind of hoodwinked and a lot of them got out early. But the ones that were left were kind of ragtag and bobtail, you know. They weren’t citizens of much respect or prominence. They were kind of red necks.

Hellard:Who was the sheriff in your high school years?

Prichard:Well, different ones. The first sheriff I remember when I was a little boy was Mr. W.G. McClintock, who was one of the most powerful politicians in the county, and he and my father were close friends. I wrote his will later. He lived to be ninety something. He had come from Millersburg. He was a very active livestock trader and later he and his—couple of his associates founded the Paris stockyards, which he made a great deal of money out of and he owned two, three farms over there. He was sher—first elected assessor and then in the years of my young childhood he was the sheriff. And he controlled that sheriff s office for, oh, twenty-five years after that. He named his successors and his ticket always won. There was always a strong fight against his ticket, but he always won. And he was a very powerful influence in Democratic politics over there, and particularly as long as he and Pearce Paton worked together, which they did for a good many years. And you might have called them the leaders, or bosses, or whatever you want to call them of the Democratic Party. But Mr. Paton ruled more by love and Mr. McClintock by fear I’d say. Not entirely, because Mr. McClintock had warm friends and Mr. Paton could play rough, but their natural tendencies were different, so they worked together very well. Mr. Paton preserved his strength by two things. Being county clerk, he did something for people and not to them. He was always in a position to do favors, and he was a very efficient clerk. You know, the records were always in perfect order and they—every time they audited him, why if anything happened the state owed him money, he never owed the state anything. He—and he—he—raised the young people up in his organization. Every night he would post himself downtown in front of a local little restaurant or a soda fountain where the kids used to congregate, and the young people. And as they came by, he’d buy them a candy bar, or an ice cream cone, or a soda and talk to them. And he wouldn’t talk politics, he’d just make friends with them. And then when the election came, he could get them to influence their parents, and then when they grew up, they became part of his organization. Now, Mr. McClintock was more of a power broker. Not that he didn’t have friends, but he was a very aggressive sort of a man, carried a big drover stick, you know what I mean, one of those livestock canes, and wore a sort of a wide-brim hat, and moved fast. Called everybody “boys.” “Come on, boys, now let’s get together and set up this campaign.”

Hellard:If you learned one thing from Mr. Paton, what would it be?

Prichard:Oh, I would say that—two things—that you play politics every day and not just during the campaign. That’s number one. Number two is that you catch more flies with molasses than you do with vinegar. He—he made his strength by, not by doing things to people, but by doing things for people. And—and he—he played politics every day in the year. Consequently, he never had opposition in his forty-two years in office more than about twice. And he could go and participate in other campaigns and never make enough enemies to give himself trouble. He—he—he would—he would run, either nominally or actually, most state campaigns there. And he was very close in the what we used to call the Billy Klair organization. Billy Klair in Lexington was the kind of district leader of the party machine in those days, or one faction of it, and he and Mr. Paton always worked together. And—and Mr. McClintock was usually with them. Now later on, when [A. B. “Happy”] Chandler ran for governor [in 1935], that’s the first time they had a little bit of a split. Mr. McClintock was for Tom Rhea and Mr. Paton was for Chandler in the second primary; course we were all for Frederick Wallis [of Paris] in the first primary. And so I was for Chandler that time. That’s really the last time I was for him. And we carried the county pretty well for him. Mr. McClintock didn’t like that too much and— But he and Mr. Paton didn’t just fall out about it, but they never were quite as close as they had been before.

Hellard:Can you recall—

Prichard:Mr. McClintock that—that was the instance that gave rise to one of my stories. Mr. McClintock was for Tom Rhea, and he was handling Rhea’s money, and we had a big float vote over there in those days, and there was a lot of votes you could handle with money, probably a thousand or twelve hundred votes. And he sent Mr. Jim Woodford up to one floating precinct and gave him about $700 and told him to handle the precinct. Well, Mr. Woodford came back to him about eleven o’clock and gave him his money. He said, “Mr. Mac, I can’t use that money up there.” He says, “Why not, Jim?” He said, “Mr. Woodford,”[speaking in deep voice]—the Woodfords all had a very deep old kind of southern accent—Mr. Woodford said, “because” he said, “Mr. Mac, the sentiment’s against us.” Mr. Mac said, “Why you silly son of a bitch. That’s what money’s for, to fight sentiment.” And [Hellard laughs] I’ll never forget that. But money couldn’t fight it that year. They were so hepped on that sales tax that they voted—they could take your money and vote for Happy.

Hellard:Can you recall any other election stories of interest?

Prichard:Sure. I can remember the year that Judge [William] Ardery ran against Marion Rider for commonwealth’s attorney. Judge Ardery had been in the legislature, and when the Ripper Bill came up in nineteen and thirty session, that was the bill to rip the highway department. You know one of the cases is about that Rouse against somebody—Sibert isn’t it?—no, no, Sibert and Garrett’s earlier, this was Rouse against somebody. They took the highway commission away from the governor and gave it to the governor, attorney general, lieutenant governor—that was known as the Ripper Bill. It passed the legislature after a very bitter fight. Judge Ardery, though a Democrat, bolted his party and voted against the Ripper Bill, and that was about to do him in politically. And then the commonwealth’s attorney for this district, Mr. Whitley, died suddenly, and [Governor Flem] Sampson appointed Ardery commonwealth’s attorney. Well, of course a lot of the Democrats were resentful because Ardery had voted against the Ripper Bill. And so Mr. Rider ran for commonwealth’s attorney with the backing of his powerful partner Mr. Les Morris. And everybody thought that Rider was going to win the race, and he carried Bourbon County, and he carried Scott County, and he carried Woodford County. And they had Mr. Jim McClure, who was the only person in Bourbon County that was against Ardery, to go around and have people spot the polls, and he said that there was eighteen hundred votes cast in Bourbon County. It was a very light vote. Well, Monday morning—in those days, they waited and didn’t count the votes till Monday at the courthouse. So when they count—opened the boxes Monday and counted them, they rolled out thirty-two hundred ballots, and Ardery got all of them but a hundred and twenty-five. And he beat Rider by twenty-seven votes on the official count. And that was one of my first experiences with vote stealing. And I saw what was being done that day. But one of the things, hell, they—one precinct they voted the whole book and then sent to town to another precinct and borrowed fifty votes. But anyway, Mr. McClintock was election commissioner, and they certified the count. But one of the things that happened that day was that—I was at the courthouse and Mr. Paton sent me; I guess I was then, what, seventeen, sixteen. Mr. Patton said, “Go around to the number-one precinct—that was at the Bourbon Hatchery—and tell Bill Blanton not to vote Squire Lowery, that he just died this morning.” So I went around there feeling very important, and I said, “Mr. Blanton, I have an important message for you from Mr. Paton.” He said, “Well, what does old Baldy want you to tell me?” He said—I said, “Well you come over here, now, I’ve got to tell you [Hellard laughs] this confidentially.” So he came over in the corner, and I said, “Mr. Paton says for you not to vote Squire Lowery. He just died this morning.” Bill Blanton looked at me, and he says, “You tell that fat son of a bitch that the last thing Squire Lowery did before he died was to vote.” [Hellard laughs]

Hellard:Sounds like Woodford County politics.

Prichard:That’s right. Well, that’s exactly what happened. So that’s how I began to learn about what they did. And my daddy was in it all. He—he went out to Clintonville Precinct and wrote the book for—for Ardery in that thing, and they all did it. And they—they literally stuffed the boxes with thirteen, fourteen hundred votes. And—and, you know, Rider decided not to contest it.

Hellard:Is that right?

Prichard:Uh-huh.

Hellard:Was there—was there a reason for that?

Prichard: I just believe Les Morris was an old-school politician that believes if you could out-steal them, you abide by the result, and I think that was exactly it.

Hellard:Now your father, did your father ever bolt the Democratic party?

Prichard: Once.

Hellard:Want to talk about that?

Prichard:Well, that was a commercial transaction, in a sense. In nineteen hundred and twenty-seven the Democratic Party nominated J.C.W. Beckham for governor. My father had supported Bob Crowe, Guthrie Crowe’s father from LeGrange, who was the candidate of the Klair faction—the anti Beckham-Hayley faction. Beckham was very much opposed to pari-mutuel betting, or at least professed to be. So when Beckham got nominated the—the Dem—a lot of the Democrats, particularly in central Kentucky, decided to support Sampson, who was then on the Court of Appeals and was more or less allied with Galvin and the pro racetrack elements in the Republican Party and daddy bolted; he was in the horse business and he just bolted. That’s the only time I ever knew him to do it. And I supported Beckham—I was twelve years old—but I wouldn’t leave the party—

Hellard:Well there was—

Prichard: —and it caused a little tension between us.

Hellard:That was my next question as to how did you handle that?

Prichard:I just told him I was for Beckham. And he just said when you get older you’ll know better, something like that. He didn’t get too upset about it, ’cause there wasn’t much I could do about it. And in fact Sampson carried the county a little bit. ’Cause all the horse people not only worked for him, but spent money for him, and daddy did.

Hellard:What were some of the—the—going back now to your high school days, maybe even your grade school days, what were some of the social issues that—that you remember being discussed over at—over the dinner table, around the courthouse?

Prichard:Prohibition, racetrack betting, evolution and teaching of evolution. You know, they had legislation which almost passed in the mid ’20s to forbid the teaching of evolution in the public schools. And it was just narrowly defeated in the legislature by a gallant effort led by Dr. Frank McVey, president of the University of Kentucky, who almost single-handed took it on. There’s a very interesting article on that in a recent issue of The Register of the Kentucky Historical Society, a year or two ago. I guess those were the social issues. Ku Klux, Catholic Church and the Al Smith race, those were the main issues—social issues. And—and the economic issues were much more muted then, you know. The so-called liberal and conservative economic issues were not all—we were in the period of Coolidge prosperity and they were really kind of marginal except in some parts of the state. You know, the—the issues that the parties divided on were then more likely tariff and things of that sort. But on—on the issues of those—those issues, our family was against prohibition, for Al Smith, against the anti-evolution law, and for pari-mutuel betting. My Grandfather Power was for prohibition, for outlawing pari-mutuel betting, for the anti-evolution statute, and against Al Smith. But my mother wasn’t.

Hellard:So you really grew up in a—in a fairly liberal family.

Prichard: Comparatively.

Hellard:For that—for that—for that day and time.

Prichard:Comparatively.

Prichard:Was that—would you say that would be the general prevailing attitude of most people in Paris?

Hellard:No, you wouldn’t, you’d have to say they were divided. They were divided. I’m sure the predominant sentiment in that county was dry. Hoover carried the county by something like—

Hellard:Well, I’m talking about more the city of Paris. I’m thinking again of the independent school system in Paris and—

Prichard:Oh, it would be more a liberal than the general tenor of the county as a whole, yes, yes it would. A town—a place like North Middletown would have been a bastion of fundamentalism, Ku Klux, anti-pari-mutuel betting, anti-evolution, but Paris it would’ve been a little less so. But not—not all that predominantly less so, just some less so. And I think the schools had something to do with that. ’Cause we—we were more critical, you know, taught to be more critically analytical in the schools.

Hellard:Well I think that’s going to be it for today Mr. Prichard.

Prichard:Well whatever you say; do you think we got a lot a long anywhere?

Hellard:It’s about five minutes till two o’clock.

Prichard:Well that’s good.

Hellard:And I’ll say this is the end of tape one, side two.

Prichard: Uh-huh.

Hellard:Okay, ready to go.

Prichard:There’s a little story I remember from the Al Smith election. There was a fellow that worked for my Grandfather Power, named Tom Branton, who was a typical Ku Kluxer; had a great big mustache and came from Bracken County and was—was an ardent member of the Ku Klux. He had a son that was kind of a playmate of mine, and I knew his daddy was a Ku Kluxer. And so I said something to him about the Klan when we were talking about the Al Smith races—was Charlie Branton. And Charlie said a little poem, he said, “I’d rather be a Klansman with a robe of snow so white than to be a Catholic with a robe as black as night, for a Klansman is an American and America is his home, and he does not have to kiss the toe of the Jewish Pope in Rome.” [Hellard laughs] I can remember that just as well—that was fifty-four years ago.

Hellard:Was that what—you—you—’cause you went through the Al Smith campaign and the Kennedy campaign—

Prichard:Uh-huh.

Hellard: — ( )Was—was there substantial difference in the way that [John F.] Kennedy was treated [in 1960] and the way Al Smith was treated [in 1928]—

Prichard:Yes.

Hellard:—in terms of the—

Prichard:Kennedy got hurt but he won.

Hellard:But I’m talking about in terms of Kentucky.

Prichard:Well, Kennedy didn’t lose Kentucky near as much as Al Smith lost it. Al Smith lost it by 180,000 votes. Kennedy lost it by 60,000 out of a bigger electorate. The—the anti-Catholicism was much more rampant and open in the Al Smith race. In the Kennedy race, with the exception of a few people like Brother [Edwin] Walker and a few extremists it was much muted. You know, people would—would hide their true reasons. In the Al Smith race they’d come right out and tell you, “I’m not going to vote for no goddamn Catholic.” It was a—

Hellard:How did that affect people like some of your school teacher who was a staunch Catholic? Was there much personal animosity aroused because of this election?

Prichard:Yes there was, plenty of it. But I don’t know how it affected Miss—Miss Anna Farrell because by that time I was past her class and into, I guess into junior high school. But I’m sure that it was a—an agony for her. ’Cause she was devout; she wasn’t narrow but she was devout, and very strong in her convictions and— I remember I asked her about it and all she said to me was I voted for the Democrat. That’s all she said. She—she wasn’t inclined to come out and, you know, with a flaming sword. But the Catholics felt it very deeply and— But at that time the blacks were still voting Republican. And up until Roosevelt’s time the hard core of the Republican Party in Bourbon County were the blacks, who gave solid support to the Republicans. And if the Republicans had a chance in that county it was because they started out with the black vote, and there were more blacks in proportion then there than there are now. Probably a fourth of the population of the county was black. And I remember that, you know, when we had a Republican speech in Bourbon County, usually it would be Ed Morrow. He was a great stump speaker for the Republicans. And when he came to Paris he’d draw a pretty good crowd of white people because the Democrats all liked to hear him. And he’d have a pretty fair crowd but the—the—the—blacks all had to sit up in the gallery in the courtroom, and they would be just packed, just packed.

Hellard:Ed Morrow, was he the one that gave the speech on old ring?

Prichard:Yes, that’s right. And—I can remember when [Augustus O.] Stanley, who had been Beckham’s enemy all through their political lives supported Beckham in 1927—much to the surprise of all of his friends. And I can remember Ed Morrow making a speech for Sampson in Bourbon County and he recited a little poem, and all I can remember is two lines from it: “When stalwart Stanley assumed his pose, the man in the moon just held his nose.” [Hellard laughs] And [laughing] Ed was a witty speaker and a good speaker. And, you know, very popular with Democrats, even if they didn’t vote for him they had a certain affection for him. Stanley and Morrow were the two speakers that drew the crowds in those days, more than any others.

Hellard:Did they ever appear on the same platform at the same time?

Prichard: Oh yes they debated not—I don’t remember them in Bourbon, but earlier when they were both running for governor against each other in 1915 they went all over the state debating. And they were great personal friends. And when Stanley and Morrow got on opposite sides in the Beckham thing—Stan1ey at that time was on some commission, International Boundary Commission in Washington and Morrow was on the Railway Labor Board—and they both went back Washington after that election was over. And Stanley passed Morrow on the street and didn’t speak to him. And the next time they met Stanley walked by kind of in a huff and Morrow stopped him and he said “Now Owsley,” he said, “you and I have been fighting each other and scrapping with each other for twenty, twenty-five years in this state and we always remained close personal friends. Now I don’t want you to be angry with me and if you’ve got anything against me just say it now and let’s get it over with.” Stanley says, “Ed,” he says, “for twenty-five years you’ve been going all over this state lying about me and I never said a goddamn word, but this year you told the truth and I’m mad as hell at you.” [Hellard laughs] But those were colorful times. You could get a hell of a crowd at a political speaking in those days. You could pack these courthouses. And they’d stomp and cheer and whistle, and—

Hellard:I guess that Chandler-[Edward T.] Breathitt race was one of the last times you—

Prichard:Last time, that’s right, that’s right. And the—when Chandler ran—when Chandler ran he drew terrific crowds in his first campaign for governor. I can remember he opened his campaign in Paris in the second primary and I made a little speech that day. And I expect we had seven thousand people there.

Hellard:What’d you say?

Prichard:Oh, I’ve forgotten. Just talked about the, you know, the sales tax, and the—Lafoon and Rhea and how they tried to keep the people from having the right to vote, things like that. I was very much for Happy in that race.

Hellard:And you were how old?

Prichard:Oh, let’s see, twenty. I—I—that was the year I graduated from college. I wasn’t old enough to vote. I made speeches for Happy all over this part of the state, made one here in Frankfort, several places and— But I never was for him again in a primary.

Hellard:Why?

Prichard:Well, he turned on Roosevelt, turned on Barkley, turned on his party really, and I just never had any more use for him; that was my main quarrel with him at that time. I thought he made a pretty good governor his first term. Certainly the first two years of his first term. But—

Hellard:Well okay, we’ll continue this at our next interview.