In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

54 The Kentucky Anthology Robert Emmett McDowell from Tidewater Sprig One of the Kentucky novelists who have written fiction about Kentucky’s pioneer period is Robert Emmett McDowell. McDowell, a historian who wrote history and historical fiction, is the author of Tidewater Sprig (1961), the story of Todd Medford, a ne’er-do-well from an aristocratic Virginia family who comes to Kentucky on an Ohio River flatboat, debarks at Louisville, and winds up working at the saltworks in Bullitt County. This excerpt describes Todd’s arrival in Louisville. h Todd wasn’t disappointed by the settlement at the Falls of the Ohio for the simple reason that he hadn’t expected it to amount to anything. Louisville, for such was its official name, consisted of a scattering of rude log hovels set down in the midst of ponds and swampy ground that gave the place an unhealthy appearance. There was a new, raw-looking stockade, where he understood General George Rogers Clark made his headquarters; a short walk downstream he discovered a second, older fortification that already was beginning to fall into a state of disrepair. Since the Andrews and the Collings tribes were leaving the river at this point, planning to journey inland to Caleb’s improvement a short distance above the saltworks, Todd found himself faced with the necessity of hiring hands to work the boat. He made his way to the lower fort where, he had learned, there was a public house. This fort, unlike the new one where Clark made his headquarters, was a typical Kentucky station. Since it was the first that Todd had seen, he studied it curiously. It had been built in the form of a rectangle, the backs of the cabins making up the walls, the space between the individual cabins stockaded in with pickets. The cabins themselves were but one story high, with flat shed roofs sloping in toward the compound. Todd counted eight to the long sides of the roofs rectangle and four at the ends; at the corner nearest him a two-story blockhouse reared itself above the stockade, the second floor projecting about three feet beyond the walls. The gates stood open, and the compound was ankle-deep in mire, the musky odor of cattle droppings mingling with the sharper scents of urine and wood smoke. He located the ordinary and stepped inside to find a small, 54 The author’s name 55 gloomy, dirt-floored chamber where a number of men were drinking and playing cards, laughing and joking boisterously. They were as fine a parcel of rogues as Todd had yet seen, unshaven for the most part, clad in dirty buckskins or linsey-woolsey. A man was snoring drunkenly on the floor in a corner ; the stink in the place must have risen to high heaven. Robert Emmett McDowell 55 ...

Share