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Windsor Missouri History and Families, Miller, MO (2026)

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09/02/2026

WHEN CALHOUN CAME HOME
The Calhoun C**t Show—75 Years Ago

Friday morning, September 7, 1951, arrived in Calhoun cool, clear and almost tailor-made for a country fair.

The temperature had fallen to 53 degrees overnight. Some folks probably reached for a jacket before leaving home, but by afternoon it would warm to a pleasant 80. There had been no rain. The roads were dry, the sky was cooperating and Calhoun was ready.

And mercy, the people were coming.

They came from farms and little communities all across Henry County. They came from Clinton, Windsor, Leeton, Chilhowee, Tightwad, Hickory Grove, Shady Grove and Coal.

Others had traveled home from Kansas, Illinois, South Dakota, Oregon and California.

Some came to see the livestock.

Some came to look over the exhibits.

Some came for the rides.

Some came hoping to win a ribbon.

But many came for the same reason folks had been coming for years:

They came home.

GETTING READY FOR THE BIG WEEKEND

The C**t Show did not simply appear on Friday morning. Calhoun’s people had been working, cooking, rehearsing and raising money for weeks.

On Saturday, August 18, an ice-cream supper was held at Calhoun City Hall. The advertisement promised homemade ice cream and cake, served throughout the afternoon and evening, with the proceeds benefiting the C**t Show.

Homemade ice cream in August!

You can nearly picture the freezers packed with ice, somebody turning the crank, cakes lined along a table and neighbors lingering long after their bowls were empty.

There was entertainment, too.

A home-talent play called “A Southern Cinderella” was presented in Calhoun under the direction of Mrs. Wanda Kueck. The performance raised approximately $60 for the C**t Show fund—a considerable contribution in 1951.

The cast included:

Lois Jean Stone
Bonnie Parks
Jeannie Spring
Margaret Beasley
Lillian Bilbruck
Corlene Nestlerode
Wanda Kueck

Bonnie Parks played the Southern Cinderella.

Mrs. Alfred George and Mrs. Tommy Dady sang between the acts, with Mrs. Earl Finks accompanying them at the piano.

It was local entertainment supporting a local tradition. Nobody was waiting for someone from outside Calhoun to do the work. The community put on the play, baked the cakes, froze the ice cream, sold the tickets and raised the money itself.

That was how the C**t Show happened.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 7

By Friday morning, Calhoun was no longer an ordinary town of 463 people.

Livestock and exhibits had been brought in for inspection. The newspaper would later say that the livestock rivaled what might be seen at the American Royal and that the exhibits were good in every class.

That was high praise.

The American Royal in Kansas City was one of the most respected livestock exhibitions in the country. For a newspaper correspondent to compare Calhoun’s animals with those shown at the Royal tells us something about the quality of stock standing before the judges that weekend.

These were not merely barnyard animals brought to town for amusement. They represented years of feeding, breeding, training and work.

A ribbon carried bragging rights.

A prize-winning c**t, horse or other animal reflected upon the person who raised it—and upon the farm and family behind it.

Special prizes had been contributed by Elmo Kreisler and James Deakins of Clinton. Kreisler had recently purchased control of the Citizens State Bank of Calhoun and was known as a civic-minded Clinton businessman.

Rolla Jones served as the announcer.

Rolla was 54 years old, born and raised at Calhoun, and knew these families. He was not announcing strangers. He was calling the names of neighbors, relatives and people whose farms and horses he likely already knew.

Somewhere in the gathering was Mr. and Mrs. Dan Wilson, who came from the Shady Grove community on Friday.

There were exhibits to admire, livestock to examine and old friends to locate in the crowd. And when folks found one another, there must have been plenty of:

“Well, I declare!”

“When did you get back?”

“How are your folks?”

“And who is this young one?”

The newspaper called the weather ideal and said the crowds were large both days. Another account said hundreds enjoyed the exhibits, rides and the chance to see old friends again.

In a town of 463 residents, “hundreds” was no small crowd.

Calhoun had grown several times over.

MORE THAN A SHOW—IT WAS A HOMECOMING

The correspondent, Mrs. Thomas Clark, put the feeling into words:

The Calhoun C**t Show had become synonymous with “homecoming.”

Former residents planned their visits around it. Families opened their homes. Brothers and sisters were reunited. Old schoolmates renewed acquaintances. Some people returned every year, while others had not seen Calhoun—or a C**t Show—in decades.

Mr. and Mrs. H. M. Fewel came from El Dorado Springs to visit their son Clifton Fewel and his wife and to see old friends.

But H. M. Fewel was not just another returning resident.

He was Hugh McClung “Mack” Fewel.

Mack was 84 years old in 1951, and he had served as one of the three judges at the very first Calhoun C**t Show nearly half a century earlier.

Imagine that for a moment.

Standing among the 1951 crowd was a man who had been there at the beginning.

Mack had watched the C**t Show grow from a gathering built around local farmers and their fine c**ts into a two-day event with livestock, exhibits, prizes, rides and visitors from across the country.

He had outlived many of the people who stood beside him at those first shows, but he had come home once more.

THE MAN WHO WAITED FORTY YEARS

Phillip Trainer, a Clinton postal employee, returned to see the show and visit friends.

With him was his brother, Charley Trainer of Gannvalley, South Dakota.

Charley had not seen a Calhoun C**t Show in forty years.

Forty years is a mighty long wait.

The Trainer family had once lived southwest of Calhoun. As Charley looked around in 1951, he would have seen automobiles where horses and wagons had once stood. He would have seen electric lights, modern farm equipment and children belonging to people he remembered as children themselves.

But some things must have felt wonderfully familiar:

The livestock.

The families gathered together.

The calling of familiar names.

And that unmistakable feeling of being back where part of your life began.

THE OREGON HOMECOMER

Isaac Pheil came from Hood River, Oregon, for his first visit home in fifteen years.

A newspaper found him visiting around the old LaDue neighborhood after the serious illness of his brother, Ernest Pheil, brought him back to the area.

Isaac said he had missed attending the Calhoun C**t Show.

His return carried an additional family connection that the newspaper did not explain.

Isaac and Ernest had a sister named Mary Frances Pheil. Mary Frances was married to John Wellington Bradley—the president of the 1951 C**t Show.

Isaac Pheil was the C**t Show president’s brother-in-law.

So this was not simply an Oregon man visiting an old hometown. This was family coming home during the weekend when Calhoun’s families gathered together.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8

Saturday morning was warmer, with a low of 61 degrees. The afternoon reached only 77, and once again there was no rain.

It was another nearly perfect September day.

Saturday brought still more visitors. Community correspondents throughout the area recorded who had gone to Calhoun, sometimes listing entire families.

From Hickory Grove came:

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Robbins
Mr. and Mrs. E. W. Peters
Mr. and Mrs. Gifford Sperry
Mr. and Mrs. L. F. Ricker
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Hanger

From the Coal community came:

Mr. and Mrs. Kenneth Means and family
Mr. and Mrs. Elvin Fowler and their daughters
Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Fowler and their children
Mrs. Mollie Fowler
Merle Fowler

Wilma Moomaw and Merle Fowler were also reported attending on Saturday.

From Tightwad came:

Mr. and Mrs. Harvey Kisner
Robert Wilson
Mrs. Audra Parks
Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Crowder

Mr. and Mrs. Mike Anderson and Lorene accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Frankie Stoneking and their children.

Mr. and Mrs. T. H. King attended Saturday, as did Mr. and Mrs. Otto Kahrman—or Karhman, as the damaged newspaper type may read—of Kansas City.

Other columns simply reported that “many” from a community went to Calhoun. Their individual names disappeared, but their presence did not.

They were part of those hundreds filling the town.

THE FERRIS WHEEL

There were rides at the show, including a Ferris wheel.

A newspaper photographer captured one of the best surviving moments from that weekend.

In the photograph, C**t Show president J. W. Bradley and vice-president Rolla Jones are seated together high on the Ferris wheel, apparently taking what the caption called “a breather.”

Bradley was 63. Rolla was 54.

After the work of preparing the show, tending to exhibits, answering questions, welcoming visitors and keeping events moving, the two men climbed aboard and let somebody else take charge for a few minutes.

The caption reads:

“Calhoun’s annual C**t Show, oldest of its kind in the state, had another successful run last weekend. Hundreds enjoyed the exhibits, rides and the chance to see old friends again.”

That photograph may tell the story better than anything else we possess.

Two community leaders, dressed in their good clothes, sitting together on a carnival ride while the C**t Show continued below them.

For just a little while, the president and vice-president were no longer running the show.

They were enjoying it.

THE GREAT ROLL CALL OF HOMECOMERS

The newspapers preserved the names of many people who came back to Calhoun or attended the show that weekend.

Mr. and Mrs. Dolph Bush came from Long Beach, California. Dolph and his father had once owned the Montrose Tidings and the Calhoun Clarion. He visited his sister, Mrs. Clifton Fewel, and Mr. Fewel.

Frank Ham of Leeton, who had formerly lived north of Calhoun, returned to visit relatives and friends.

Mr. and Mrs. Milo Hilton came from Pratt, Kansas, and enjoyed returning to the former home of both.

Mr. and Mrs. Dick King of Leeton visited Mrs. King’s sister, Mrs. Edith Simpson. Mrs. King had once been Mabel Wall of Calhoun.

Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Ward came from Chilhowee.

Mrs. J. B. Redford, whose former home was Calhoun, was a Friday dinner guest of Mr. and Mrs. Harry Redford.

Mrs. Q. G. Faulkner, Mrs. Charles Yeager and Mrs. John Pence came from Clinton. Mrs. Faulkner had once lived west of Calhoun.

Mrs. Mollie Thomas and Mrs. May Houston came from Clinton.

Miss Olive Fewel and Mrs. Jake Kimes returned to see Miss Fewel’s old friends and relatives. Miss Fewel had once lived in the Hickory Grove neighborhood west of Calhoun.

Mrs. J. W. Baker visited her sister, Mrs. Will Hughes. Mrs. Baker had formerly been Anice Palmer, from north of Calhoun.

C. C. Jones, Robert Hutcherson and Harry Knoles came from Clinton. Ralph Knoles came from Norris.

Mr. and Mrs. C. C. Bradley and J. O. Webb of Chilhowee renewed old acquaintances.

Mr. and Mrs. Bill Jones came from Clinton. Bill was 84 years old and proudly reported that he was still barbering.

Mr. and Mrs. M. C. Hudson returned from near Warrensburg. Calhoun was the former home of both. Mr. Hudson had served as superintendent of schools for many years, and Mrs. Hudson had been Grace Bauder.

The Rev. Jack Perry of Kansas City, who preached at the Leeton Baptist Church, visited the show.

Mr. and Mrs. Paul Eaton of Clinton returned to Mrs. Eaton’s former hometown.

Tom McCown of Clinton loved horses, and the newspaper said that was why he particularly enjoyed the C**t Show.

Mr. and Mrs. D. L. Green and their daughter, Mrs. Katherine Redmond of Taylorville, Illinois, came home to Calhoun. Mrs. Green had been May Edwards, a Henry County teacher. Mr. Green had lived near Calhoun and worked in the coal business.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee Maize of Post Oak were delighted to see the show—as they did every year.

Levi Helphrey of Clinton, who had formerly lived northwest of Calhoun, returned.

Mrs. O. C. Stickrod of Windsor and Mr. and Mrs. Josiah Williams of Leeton came for the show.

C. T. Jones of Clinton and his son Walter were also glad to return to their old home.

Every one of those names represents another conversation, another reunion and another family connection.

The story belonged to Calhoun’s families.

THE RIBBONS WHOSE NAMES HAVE GONE QUIET

We know there were contests, prizes and many classes of exhibits.

We know the livestock was exceptional.

We know Elmo Kreisler and James Deakins supplied special prizes.

We know the newspapers praised the quality of the exhibits and said the livestock rivaled the American Royal.

But the surviving pages currently in our hands do not preserve the individual 1951 premium list.

We have not found the names of that year’s baby winners, cooking winners, farm-and-orchard winners, flower winners, fancywork winners or the owners of the prize livestock.

Those people existed.

Their cakes were tasted. Their flowers were examined. Their vegetables, needlework and livestock were judged. Ribbons were carried home and shown to grandparents, neighbors and children.

But until the complete result pages are found, we will not take winners from another year and pretend they belonged to 1951.

Their names remain one of the missing pieces of this story—and perhaps one of our readers still has a ribbon, photograph, premium book or family memory that will bring them home again.

WHEN THE WEEKEND ENDED

By Saturday evening, the final rides were slowing down. Exhibits were being collected. Animals were being led or hauled home, and families were beginning their journeys back to Clinton, Windsor, Leeton and all the little communities beyond Calhoun.

Others faced much longer trips—to Kansas, Illinois, South Dakota, Oregon and California.

But for two September days, Calhoun had gathered them together again.

The newspaper said the spirit of friendliness and goodwill had never seemed more evident.

That may be the truest description of the entire weekend.

The 1951 C**t Show was about fine livestock, exhibits, prizes and rides.

It was about homemade ice cream, cake, music and a community play.

It was about two tired show officers stealing a few minutes together on a Ferris wheel.

It was about an 84-year-old original judge returning to see what the little show had become.

It was about a man from South Dakota coming back after forty years and an Oregon man returning after fifteen.

It was about calling a familiar name across the crowd—and watching someone turn around.

That was the Calhoun C**t Show of 1951.

Not merely a show.

Not merely a fair.

It was Calhoun coming home.

Do you recognize one of these names? Does your family have a 1951 ribbon, photograph, premium book or story about the C**t Show? Please share it with us. The missing winners and memories may still be waiting in an old scrapbook, cedar chest or family Bible.

This history can—and should—continue to grow.

Saving Windsor and Calhoun’s past while preserving their future.

09/02/2026

WHEN A DOLLAR COULD FILL A BAG
Remembering Saxton’s & Fockler’s Ben Franklin — Windsor, Missouri

If you had walked down South Main Street in Windsor at eight o’clock on the morning of Friday, April 29, 1949, you might have noticed a little more activity than usual around 119 South Main.

Folks were coming and going. Children probably had their eyes on the windows. And inside, Galen and Pauline Saxton were beginning a chapter of Windsor history that would last for decades.

The doors were opening on Saxton’s Ben Franklin.

And if you grew up in Windsor during the years that followed, chances are you didn't need anybody to tell you where Ben Franklin was.

You knew.

A BRAND-NEW STORE ON SOUTH MAIN

The Windsor Review announced the grand opening for Friday and Saturday, April 29 and 30, 1949, beginning at 8 a.m.

The newspaper called it a “new business” located in the former Goodlet building on South Main Street.

We later learn a little more of the story. Galen and Pauline Saxton had purchased the business from Gilbert Goodlet, and advertisements identify their new store at 119 S. Main Street.

But what really makes that first weekend special is that an original grand-opening advertisement survives.

So we don't have to guess what was waiting inside.

Come on.

Let's go shopping in Windsor in 1949.

The new candy department offered Maple Fudge for 25¢ a pound, Golden Kisses for 25¢ a pound and stick candy for 19¢ a pound.

There were washcloths — three for a quarter.

Soup bowls were 9¢.

Ladies' blouses could be had for 97¢.

Children's coveralls were 77¢.

A pottery table lamp cost $1.89.

Purses were $1.98.

There were cups and saucers, towels, combs, pajamas, oilcloth, aprons, greeting cards, sewing and crochet thread and school supplies.

And then there were four little words guaranteed to slow down nearly every child who walked through the door:

“VISIT OUR TOY COUNTER.”

Oh, how many Windsor children must have stood there over the years deciding whether their few coins would stretch far enough for the treasure they had spotted.

AND YOU COULD GET YOUR PICTURE TAKEN, TOO

Here's something even some longtime Windsor folks may have forgotten.

When Saxton's opened, licensed photographer Martin Flynn made his headquarters right inside the store.

He was there each Saturday.

One grand-opening special offered an 8×10 photograph in a folding frame for 98¢.

Later advertisements told Windsor residents to stop by Ben Franklin and make an appointment. Flynn would take photographs right there in Windsor on Saturdays, sometimes advertising hours from 9 a.m. until 9 p.m.

He offered regular photographs, application photos, copies, photostatic copies and even oil coloring.

Think about that for a moment.

Somewhere, tucked into old Windsor family albums and dresser drawers, there may still be photographs taken inside Saxton's Ben Franklin by Martin Flynn more than 75 years ago.

We'd sure like to find one.

AND IF YOUR TOOTH HURT…

You didn't have to travel very far.

An advertisement for Dr. Paul J. Murphy, Dentist, placed his office in Dr. Shadburne's former office:

over the Ben Franklin Store.

So downstairs you could buy candy…

…and upstairs you could have your teeth worked on.

We aren't saying those two businesses were working together.

But that was some mighty convenient planning. 😂

IT WAS MORE THAN A FIVE-AND-DIME

That's the part of this story we didn't fully appreciate until we started digging through the old newspapers.

Saxton's wasn't simply a place that happened to sell things.

It participated in Windsor.

When local merchants sponsored Wednesday Matinee Merchants Free Shows, Saxton's Ben Franklin was among the sponsors.

One surviving advertisement announces a free showing of Johnny Concho, Frank Sinatra's first western, and lists five sponsors:

Saxton's Ben Franklin, Hughes Apco Service, Carr's Department Store, The Windsor Review and Wesner Drug Store.

Imagine being a Windsor youngster.

Maybe you had spent the morning doing chores. Maybe somebody handed you a little spending money. Downtown you went, perhaps stopping at Ben Franklin before heading to a movie that the merchants themselves had helped provide.

Those businesses weren't merely places where Windsor spent its money.

They helped make Windsor, Windsor.

THEY EVEN HAD A BOWLING TEAM

Yes, indeed.

There was a Saxton's Ben Franklin bowling team.

In one mixed-team tournament at Windsor Lanes, 43 teams competed from communities including Sedalia, Blue Springs, Lee's Summit, Odessa, Warrensburg, Concordia, Richmond, Clinton, Weston and Windsor.

Saxton's Ben Franklin finished third, rolling a 3011 and taking home $25 in prize money.

Another league report shows Saxton's sitting at 25 wins and 19 losses — and holding both the high team series, 2439, and high team game, 826.

Apparently those folks could sell you a washcloth and then go knock down some pins.

SUMMERTIME AT BEN FRANKLIN

And then we found the fireworks advertisement.

Lord have mercy.

Saxton's offered Roman candles, sky rockets, two-shot bombs, aerial flash bombs, torpedoes, Chinese salutes, Japanese rollers, buzz bombs, sparklers and Red Devil Chasers.

And, according to the advertisement:

“many more items to make your Fireworks assortment complete.”

We're pretty sure a Windsor boy reading that advertisement didn't make it much farther than “two-shot bombs.”

Some things about childhood haven't changed nearly as much as we'd like to believe.

CHRISTMAS AT BEN FRANKLIN

Now this is where we suspect some memories are going to come flooding back.

Years later, a Ben Franklin Christmas advertisement offered a whole collection of toys for 77¢ apiece.

There were toy dump trucks.

Jeeps.

An excavator tractor.

A fire engine.

Spy phones.

A 19-piece tea set.

A ukulele.

Doctor-and-nurse medical kits.

Magnet games.

A toy wall telephone.

Even little luggage.

Just imagine Christmas shopping there.

A mother quietly looking over the toys while a child was being instructed not to touch everything.

Someone choosing a present for a brother or sister.

A youngster staring at that truck and hoping awfully hard that Santa had been paying attention.

For some Windsor families, those weren't simply things sitting on a shelf.

They became Christmas morning.

“LOCALLY OWNED — NATIONALLY KNOWN”

Ben Franklin was part of a much larger system, but Windsor's store was genuinely local.

A 1952 Windsor Review article explained that G. F. Saxton's store belonged to the Ben Franklin franchise store group, associated with Butler Brothers of Chicago.

That year Windsor's store participated in the company's 75th-anniversary Diamond Jubilee celebration.

The national advertising slogan summed it up beautifully:

“LOCALLY OWNED — NATIONALLY KNOWN.”

And in Windsor, the first half of that sentence mattered.

Because behind that counter weren't anonymous corporate managers.

They were Galen and Pauline Saxton.

People knew them.

THE STORE GREW UP WITH WINDSOR

Saxton's didn't remain exactly as it had looked on opening morning in 1949.

At one point the store underwent a substantial remodeling.

The Review reported wider aisles, new-style shelving that made merchandise easier to reach, expanded merchandise lines, a new tile floor and a redecorated interior.

The newspaper described it as being as modern and attractive as a store could be in any community.

The Saxtons had also added an attractive new brick front several years earlier.

Think about what that means.

A Windsor child who first walked through those doors in 1949 could come back as a teenager, then as a young married adult, then perhaps as a mother or father shopping for a child of their own.

The merchandise changed.

The building changed.

And Windsor changed right along with it.

THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE COUNTER

We've been able to recover a few of their names, too.

Faye Hughes worked at Saxton's Ben Franklin for several years.

Gloria Ellis-Young, a 1953 Windsor High School graduate, also worked there.

And there were undoubtedly many others whose names we haven't found yet.

That's where we're hoping you can help.

Because an old store isn't really remembered by its shelves.

It's remembered by the people standing behind them.

The person who knew your mother.

The clerk who helped you find something.

The person who wrapped the gift.

The familiar face who knew half the people walking through the door before they ever said hello.

THEN CAME ANOTHER WINDSOR FAMILY

After nearly 28 years in the business, Galen and Pauline Saxton retired in December 1976.

But that wasn't the end of Windsor's Ben Franklin story.

Another familiar Windsor family became part of it:

Dean and Sharon Fockler.

Dean wasn't a stranger to Windsor retail.

As a teenager he had worked for Mrs. Milam's store, even delivering groceries around Windsor on his bicycle. He later worked for Gerbes Super Markets, including in Windsor.

Eventually, Dean and Sharon would own and operate Fockler's Ben Franklin in Windsor for ten years.

Sharon's mother, Gladys Buell, worked for her daughter and son-in-law at the store for several years.

Deanna Harbit is another Windsor resident whose obituary records that she worked at the former Ben Franklin store.

There is one little piece we're deliberately leaving unwritten.

Everything we've found strongly suggests the Fockler era followed the Saxtons' retirement, but we have not yet located a contemporary document proving the exact date and terms of the ownership transfer.

So rather than turn a good possibility into a “fact,” we'll leave that little blank in Windsor history until the evidence — or perhaps one of you — fills it in.

Because getting it right matters more than filling every hole.

WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER?

By the time you reach the end of an old business story like this, the dates begin to matter a little less.

April 29, 1949 tells us when the doors opened.

119 South Main tells us where.

Galen and Pauline Saxton and later Dean and Sharon Fockler tell us who kept those doors open.

But none of those things tells us what Ben Franklin felt like.

For that, we need you.

Maybe you remember the smell when you walked inside.

Maybe it was the candy.

Maybe the toys.

Maybe the fabric and sewing notions.

Maybe school supplies in late summer.

Maybe Christmas decorations.

Maybe you saved your change until you finally had enough to buy something all by yourself.

Maybe your mother worked there.

Maybe you worked there.

Maybe Galen, Pauline, Dean or Sharon knew you by name.

And maybe — just maybe — somewhere in an old family album you have one of those photographs Martin Flynn took at Ben Franklin on a Saturday long ago.

If you do, we'd dearly love to see it.

Tell us what you remember.

What did you buy at Ben Franklin? Who do you remember working there? What was your favorite part of the store? And does anyone remember the change from Saxton's to Fockler's?

Because buildings hold history.

Newspapers preserve dates.

Advertisements preserve prices.

But people preserve the memories.

And somewhere between the 25-cent maple fudge, the 77-cent Christmas toys, a Saturday photograph, a free afternoon movie and a little kid standing at that toy counter counting the coins in their hand…

there's a pretty good piece of Windsor still waiting for us.

❤️ Saving Windsor and Calhoun's past while preserving their future.

09/01/2026

100 YEARS AGO IN CALHOUN
The 1926 Calhoun C**t Show — When the Whole Year Came to Town

Close your eyes for just a minute.

It is September 1926.

There are no cell phones in anyone's pocket. No television waiting at home. No air-conditioned car to climb into when the afternoon gets warm.

And if somebody hollers your name from halfway across Calhoun, you'd better turn around because chances are pretty good they know your mother, your father, your grandparents—and probably what you had for supper last night.

The Calhoun C**t Show is here.

And mercy, what a sight it must have been.

Friday Morning, September 10, 1926

The rain had come at just about the right time.

There had been plenty of it in the days leading up to the show, enough that a newspaper reporter made special mention of what it had done:

There was no dust.

Anyone who has spent a September around livestock, wagons, dirt roads and hundreds of feet knows exactly why that mattered.

Nearby Clinton's historical weather records show more than an inch of rain on September 4 and another good soaking on September 7.

Then, almost as though somebody upstairs knew Calhoun had company coming, the rain stopped.

Friday dawned cool. Nearby Clinton recorded a low around 50 degrees before the temperature climbed to about 80.

Saturday would be warmer, reaching the upper 80s.

But both C**t Show days stayed dry.

And the rain?

It came pouring back on Sunday—after the show was over.

You couldn't have ordered it much better.

The newspaper called the weather “cool—ideal.”

So hitch up the team.

Crank the automobile if you've got one.

Put the children in their Sunday-best clothes—or at least something Mama won't be ashamed of—and head toward Calhoun.

Because everybody is going to be there.

The newspaper said people came from “far and near.”

It called the C**t Show a “real home coming.”

And in 1926, that meant something.

It wasn't simply an event you attended.

It was where you saw everybody you hadn't seen since the last time Calhoun gave you a reason to come home.

You'd Hear Calhoun Before You Saw All of It

Somewhere above the talking and laughing, the horses nickering, mules carrying on and roosters making sure nobody forgot they were there, you'd hear music.

The Calhoun High School orchestra played both days under the direction of J. H. Bennett of Clinton.

And there was plenty to play for.

A contemporary newspaper said the 1926 show was the biggest and best Calhoun had ever held.

Every department, the reporter wrote, had taken on “county fair proportions” in both quality and quantity.

That wasn't newspaper puffery.

We've found the results.

And goodness gracious, Calhoun had brought everything but the kitchen sink.

Come to think of it, somebody probably could have entered that if there'd been a premium for it.

First Stop: The Horse and Mule Ring

Now we'd better find ourselves a good place to stand because some serious horsemen have arrived.

And if you're betting your nickel on who will carry home a pile of ribbons, keep an eye on the horses belonging to George Roberts & Son.

They were everywhere.

Roadsters.

Saddlers.

All-purpose horses.

Driving teams.

Stallions.

Single drivers.

Model horses.

Again and again, the Roberts name appears beside first place.

They won the roadster stallion class.

They won with a saddler.

They won with all-purpose horses.

They took both first and second with their driving teams.

They won the single-driving mare or gelding class.

And when judges looked for the “most perfect mare or gelding, any age” in the Model Ring?

George Roberts & Son took first again.

If there was one stable everybody was watching that weekend, it certainly appears the Roberts outfit was among them.

But don't hand them every ribbon just yet.

Because Hobart Harrison came to compete.

Harrison took first with a young roadster.

Then another first with a young saddler.

He won the gentleman's saddle-horse class and finished second in the Model Ring.

Every time Roberts & Son appeared to have things sewed up tighter than Dick's hatband, here came Hobart Harrison again.

And Harry Burcham was having himself quite a show, too.

His young animals kept placing—first with a suckling horse mule, first with a suckling saddler, first with a suckling all-purpose c**t and second with a roadster suckling c**t.

These weren't names printed in a newspaper because somebody happened to attend.

These men had brought good stock to Calhoun.

But Then Came the Jones Mules

If the horse ring belonged partly to Roberts and Harrison, the mule department tells another story.

The name Jones is all over it.

Lee Jones placed with a yearling mare mule.

He took first and third with two-year-old mare mules.

With pairs of two-year-old mare mules, he took first and second.

And then came the big one:

Sweepstakes Mule — Lee Jones

Floyd Jones won the yearling mare-mule class and also won with a walking mare or gelding under saddle.

R. E. Jones won the class for mules three years old and over and placed with a pair of work mules.

And R. E. Jones wasn't just another name in a premium book.

He was Robert Lee Jones, a Calhoun-area farmer and mule dealer whose family would become known well beyond Henry County for buying, selling and exhibiting mules. Later accounts remembered him as a longtime superintendent of the C**t Show's mule department and as a man who eventually judged important mule shows himself.

So when we see the Jones family collecting ribbons in 1926, we're catching them right in the middle of a tradition that would continue for years.

Imagine those men standing beside those animals.

They knew horses and mules.

So did half the men leaning against the fence watching them.

And you can bet there was some friendly arguing going on.

"That's a fine mule."

"Fine? Mine'll outwork him before dinner."

"We'll just let the judges settle that."

Some things about small towns haven't changed much in a hundred years.

And Then Somebody Said, “Let's Race 'Em.”

Because apparently simply judging the animals wasn't enough excitement.

They had a mule race.

Mr. Hinton won it.

Di**le Clark came in second.

I'd give a good deal to have a photograph of THAT.

There were Shetland pony races, too.

Herman Eldridge took first, with Wilbur Harris second.

Children weren't left sitting on the sidelines either.

In the horseback class for boys under twelve, Walter Jones took first.

In the Shetland pony riding class, Verl Jones took first and Herman Eldridge second.

And somewhere in the festivities somebody decided they needed a Lean Man's Race.

Burl Colson won.

Floyd Shepherd finished second.

Apparently in 1926 you didn't need a horse, mule, chicken or prize pumpkin to enter the C**t Show.

Sometimes being skinny would do.

Then Things Got a Little Western

George Roberts & Son and J. H. Kemper brought out jumping horses for a demonstration.

A $20 purse was divided between them—a respectable amount of money in 1926.

Then something went wrong.

Two contemporary newspaper accounts tell the details a little differently, but agree on the important part.

A horse belonging to Roberts kicked toward the horse Jesse Kemper was riding.

Instead, the kick caught Jesse.

One newspaper described the injury as his ankle; another described the top of his foot and said it was badly lacerated and bruised.

For a time, people feared it was broken.

Jesse was taken to Dr. Pollard's office, treated and then taken home by automobile, where he was confined to bed for several days.

Thankfully, it apparently wasn't the broken bone first feared.

So yes—even in 1926, the C**t Show had one of those moments when everybody probably stopped talking and crowded around asking:

“Is he all right?”

Now Follow Your Nose

Because we're leaving the livestock for a minute.

Somewhere nearby are cakes.

Lots of cakes.

The Culinary Department gives us a wonderful glimpse into the kitchens of Calhoun families in 1926.

Mrs. Jim George had the first-place display of jellies.

Audrey Gray baked the winning angel food cake.

Miss Mary Stone took first with a burnt caramel cake.

Mrs. Rolla Jones won the devil's food cake competition.

Mrs. W. S. Mayhugh took first with two loaves of bread.

But don't elbow the youngsters out of the way.

They competed too.

Margaret Saterwein, a girl under fourteen, won the children's angel-food-cake class.

And Lillian Dodson, also competing in an under-fourteen class, brought the winning chocolate pie.

Just picture that.

Some little girl had carried a chocolate pie into the 1926 Calhoun C**t Show knowing grown folks were going to look at it, taste it and judge it.

And she won.

I wonder if anyone in her family still tells that story.

Mama Brought the Canning

This wasn't a jar or two set on a card table.

These women meant business.

For the best display of pickles, Mrs. John Hall took first with a display of fourteen jars.

Mrs. W. J. Chipman came second with six.

Then Mrs. Chipman turned around and took first in preserves with thirteen jars, followed by Mrs. Neale Cooper with seven.

Mrs. Sam Beaty entered thirteen jars of canned vegetables and took first.

Then she won the special canned-fruit display with eleven jars.

Mrs. Cooper placed second there, too.

Pears.

Peaches.

Pickles.

Preserves.

Vegetables.

Jellies.

Bread.

Cakes.

Imagine the colors lined up across those tables.

And remember what those jars represented.

There wasn't a supermarket on every corner.

Those women had planted, picked, peeled, cooked, sterilized and sealed much of that food themselves.

A blue ribbon wasn't just saying:

“Your peaches taste good.”

It was saying:

“You know how to provide for a family.”

That carried some weight in 1926.

Across the Way, the Needles Had Been Busy

The Fancy Work Department may have been quieter than the mule ring.

But don't mistake quiet for lack of competition.

There were crocheted bedspreads, appliqué bedspreads, embroidered bedspreads, luncheon sets, buffet sets, aprons, hand-worked towels, handmade handkerchiefs, quilts, rugs, tatting, baby dresses, pillowcases, sofa pillows, beaded bags and dresser sets.

Lorraine Winnerd was one of the standouts.

She took first with a crocheted bedspread.

First with an embroidered centerpiece.

And first with a beaded bag.

Mrs. A. A. Gray won with a homemade rug and also won the collection of tatting.

Mrs. Alice Anderson won with a crocheted luncheon set and with pillowcases.

Mrs. D. D. Spurrier won the embroidered buffet set and the hand-worked sheet-and-pillowcase class.

Mrs. Matt Martin had the winning embroidered bedspread.

Mrs. John Hall, who had already brought fourteen jars of prize-winning pickles, also won the fancy-apron competition.

Now that's showing off.

And Lord Have Mercy—the Chickens

If you think a C**t Show means horses, you haven't met the chickens of 1926.

The advertisements bragged that Calhoun had one of the largest poultry shows in that part of the state.

The results make a pretty convincing case.

There were approximately:

42 Single-Comb Reds.

40 Barred Rocks.

27 White Wyandottes.

23 Buff Orpingtons.

Plus Leghorns, Minorcas, Anconas, Rhode Island Whites, Red Caps, Speckled Sussex, Silver Laced Wyandottes, Golden Laced Wyandottes and Bantams.

Then came ducks.

Then geese.

And eggs.

If all those roosters decided to introduce themselves at sunrise Saturday morning, nobody in Calhoun needed an alarm clock.

The Beaty family was especially hard to beat.

The name appears repeatedly throughout the poultry results.

And when the big championship ribbons were handed out:

Jesse Beaty had the Champion Hen.

Sam Beaty had the Champion C**k.

Other championship honors went to C. A. Berggren.

They even judged eggs.

Mrs. Nellie Sweeney took first with brown eggs.

Mrs. W. Brownfield took first with white eggs.

But then along came T. H. Canida.

And T. H. had something nobody quite knew what to do with.

THE TWO-AND-A-HALF-POUND EGG

Yes.

You read that correctly.

Two and a half pounds.

T. H. Canida, identified in the newspaper as a knife maker, brought an enormous egg to the Calhoun C**t Show and put it on exhibition.

The newspaper called it one of the largest ever seen in the area.

People apparently gathered around to see the thing.

There was only one problem.

It didn't win a ribbon.

Not because somebody had a bigger egg.

Not because the judges didn't like it.

But because nobody on the C**t Show committee had thought:

"You know what we ought to have this year? A two-and-a-half-pound egg division."

No premium had been offered.

Poor Mr. Canida.

A hundred years later, though, we're still talking about his egg.

I'd say he won.

Now Let's Go See What Came Out of the Fields

If you wanted to know what Henry County soil could produce in 1926, you didn't need a government report.

You went to the C**t Show.

George Wheaton brought winning white corn and the largest ear of corn.

J. P. Doss had the longest stalk of corn.

John Marks won with popcorn and also showed winning bunches of oats and wheat.

Berry Motsinger won with broom corn and millet.

John Holl took first with oats and also won with his display of peppers.

Sam Beaty, apparently not satisfied with his success among the poultry and canned goods, showed the winning garden beets.

G. A. Shepard had the largest squash.

D. A. Moore brought the largest pumpkin.

There were potatoes and sweet potatoes.

Soybeans.

Wheat.

Oats.

Alfalfa.

Timothy.

Clover.

To***co.

Watermelons.

Peaches.

Pears.

Apples.

And grapes.

Lots and lots of grapes.

Sam Winnerd was all over the grape results, winning with multiple varieties.

So while Lorraine Winnerd was collecting ribbons among the beautiful handmade things, Sam Winnerd was collecting them among the fruit.

There's another family I'd like to hear from.

And That's When It Hit Me

We've been calling this the 1926 Calhoun C**t Show.

But that doesn't quite describe what happened here.

Because what those families really brought into Calhoun that September was their year.

Think about it.

The c**t represented months or years of breeding and care.

The mule represented work and livelihood.

The corn represented spring planting and a summer spent watching the sky.

The jars represented gardens planted, weeded and harvested.

The quilt represented winter evenings and countless stitches.

The cake represented a recipe somebody's mother may have taught her.

The child's pony represented practice and courage.

The grapes came from vines someone had tended.

The chickens had been bred and raised.

Even that ridiculous two-and-a-half-pound egg had a story.

They weren't bringing things.

They were bringing pieces of their lives.

And for two days in September, they laid those lives out for their neighbors to see.

Saturday Evening, September 11, 1926

Eventually the orchestra played its last tune.

The last ribbon was handed out.

Somebody had to load those chickens back up.

The horses and mules headed home.

Cakes had been cut.

Children were tired.

Men who had spent all day arguing over horses were probably still arguing over horses.

Mrs. John Hall still had bragging rights over fourteen jars of pickles.

George Roberts & Son needed someplace to put all those ribbons.

The Jones family could go home knowing their mules had done them proud.

And T. H. Canida still had the biggest egg in town, ribbon or no ribbon.

People climbed into automobiles, wagons and buggies and started down the roads toward home.

The dust wasn't bad.

Remember?

The rain had taken care of that.

And sometime after everyone had gone home and Calhoun had quieted down...

the rain returned.

Nearby Clinton recorded about an inch and a half on Sunday.

The old town couldn't have planned it much better.

Now It's Your Turn, Calhoun

One hundred years have nearly passed since those people gathered in Calhoun.

But look closely at those names.

Jones. Roberts. Harrison. Burcham. Eldridge. Beaty. Winnerd. Hall. Chipman. Cooper. Gray. Goodrich. Dodson. Finks. Fewell. Spurrier. Brownfield. Wheaton. Doss. Marks. Motsinger. Shepard.

And many, many more.

Somebody reading this is their grandchild.

Or great-grandchild.

Or great-great-grandchild.

Somebody may have one of those ribbons tucked into an old box.

Somebody may own the quilt.

Somebody may recognize the name of a horse or mule.

Somebody may even have a photograph taken during those two September days.

We want to see it.

If someone in your family attended, competed, showed livestock, baked, canned, sewed, raced a pony, played in the Calhoun High School orchestra—or simply came to town to enjoy the hoopla—tell us who they were.

And please share this story.

Because somewhere out there is a family who doesn't yet know that one hundred years ago, their grandmother baked the best cake in Calhoun... their grandfather raised the best mule... or their great-grandmother beat everybody else's pickles.

And those are exactly the little pieces of history worth bringing home again.

Next stop: 1976.

Fifty years later, we're going back to the Calhoun C**t Show to see what had changed... and what hadn't.

Saving Calhoun's Past while preserving its future.

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09/02/2026

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