A visual documentation of Kentuckians who work, worship and live along the historic Dixie Highway.
Dixie Highway follows a natural path linking the Midwest to the South, first beaten into the ground by the traveling herds of buffalo. The path attracted humans as well who followed their food while living off the land. Time passed, and more feet, hooves and wheels forced the trail to widen as more people flooded the land, eventually giving the road its first name: Louisville & Nashville Turnpike.
The Turnpike was among the government's first attempts at highway organization. Asphalt was laid and the roadway joined a larger network of Dixie Highway. The veins of transportation connecting America from Michigan to Florida guided travelers through their now-quicker journeys to the booming metropolises of the country. Whereas the lights and largeness of Louisville and Nashville were the main draw, communities began to bloom in the in-between. Perhaps it was something about the wind in the bluegrass, the babbling brooks or the way the goldenrods bloomed in late summer that attracted people to stay and build their home along this route.
Kentuckians like their Friday night live country music, the freshest vegetables from roadside produce stands, the thrill of the barter for good livestock, the hugs from close friends met at weekly worship and slow mornings at southern-style diners. But they are also not afraid to change, adapting to keep the southern hospitality and Kentucky traditions alive and well despite the industrialization of a society always needing to move forward and faster.
The concept of a road holding this much importance provides a unique snapshot of Kentucky life. This road is the lifeblood threading the heart of Kentucky; the remaining communities along Dixie keep that heart beating by upholding traditions, day in and day out.
The Turnpike was among the government's first attempts at highway organization. Asphalt was laid and the roadway joined a larger network of Dixie Highway. The veins of transportation connecting America from Michigan to Florida guided travelers through their now-quicker journeys to the booming metropolises of the country. Whereas the lights and largeness of Louisville and Nashville were the main draw, communities began to bloom in the in-between. Perhaps it was something about the wind in the bluegrass, the babbling brooks or the way the goldenrods bloomed in late summer that attracted people to stay and build their home along this route.
Kentuckians like their Friday night live country music, the freshest vegetables from roadside produce stands, the thrill of the barter for good livestock, the hugs from close friends met at weekly worship and slow mornings at southern-style diners. But they are also not afraid to change, adapting to keep the southern hospitality and Kentucky traditions alive and well despite the industrialization of a society always needing to move forward and faster.
The concept of a road holding this much importance provides a unique snapshot of Kentucky life. This road is the lifeblood threading the heart of Kentucky; the remaining communities along Dixie keep that heart beating by upholding traditions, day in and day out.
Dixie Highway follows a natural path linking the Midwest to the South, first beaten into the ground by the traveling herds of buffalo. The path attracted humans as well who followed their food while living off the land. Time passed, and more feet, hooves and wheels forced the trail to widen as more people flooded the land, eventually giving the road its first name: Louisville & Nashville Turnpike.
The Turnpike was among the government's first attempts at highway organization. Asphalt was laid and the roadway joined a larger network of Dixie Highway. The veins of transportation connecting America from Michigan to Florida guided travelers through their now-quicker journeys to the booming metropolises of the country. Whereas the lights and largeness of Louisville and Nashville were the main draw, communities began to bloom in the in-between. Perhaps it was something about the wind in the bluegrass, the babbling brooks or the way the goldenrods bloomed in late summer that attracted people to stay and build their home along this route.
Kentuckians like their Friday night live country music, the freshest vegetables from roadside produce stands, the thrill of the barter for good livestock, the hugs from close friends met at weekly worship and slow mornings at southern-style diners. But they are also not afraid to change, adapting to keep the southern hospitality and Kentucky traditions alive and well despite the industrialization of a society always needing to move forward and faster.
The concept of a road holding this much importance provides a unique snapshot of Kentucky life. This road remains the lifeblood leading to the heart of Kentucky, and the remaining communities along Dixie keep that heart beating by upholding traditions, day in and day out.Dixie Highway follows a natural path, first beaten into the ground by the traveling herds of buffalo. The path attracted humans: natives following their food and living off the land. Time passed, and more feet, hooves and wheels forced the trail to widen as more people flooded the land; eventually giving the road its first name Louisville & Nashville Turnpike.
The Turnpike was among the government's first attempts of highway organization, asphalt was laid and the roadway joined a larger network: Dixie Highway. The veins of transportation connecting America from Michigan to Florida guided travelers through their now-quicker journeys to the beating metropolis' of our country. But as the lights and largeness of Louisville and Nashville were the main draw to many, communities began to bloom in the in-between. There must have been something about the wind in the bluegrass, the babbling brooks or the way the goldenrods bloomed in late summer that attracted people to stay and build their home along the route.
Kentuckians like their Friday night live country music, the freshest vegetables from roadside produce stands, the thrill of the barter for good livestock, the hugs from close friends met at weekly worship and slow mornings at southern-style diners. But they are also not afraid to change; adapting to keep the southern hospitality and Kentucky traditions alive and well despite the industrialization of a society always needing to move faster.
The concept of a road holding this much importance is a unique one indeed. Nevertheless, the route is home to Kentucky life. This road provides the lifeblood to the heart of Kentucky, and the remaining communities along Dixie keep that heart beating by upholding traditions, day in and day out.
The Turnpike was among the government's first attempts at highway organization. Asphalt was laid and the roadway joined a larger network of Dixie Highway. The veins of transportation connecting America from Michigan to Florida guided travelers through their now-quicker journeys to the booming metropolises of the country. Whereas the lights and largeness of Louisville and Nashville were the main draw, communities began to bloom in the in-between. Perhaps it was something about the wind in the bluegrass, the babbling brooks or the way the goldenrods bloomed in late summer that attracted people to stay and build their home along this route.
Kentuckians like their Friday night live country music, the freshest vegetables from roadside produce stands, the thrill of the barter for good livestock, the hugs from close friends met at weekly worship and slow mornings at southern-style diners. But they are also not afraid to change, adapting to keep the southern hospitality and Kentucky traditions alive and well despite the industrialization of a society always needing to move forward and faster.
The concept of a road holding this much importance provides a unique snapshot of Kentucky life. This road remains the lifeblood leading to the heart of Kentucky, and the remaining communities along Dixie keep that heart beating by upholding traditions, day in and day out.Dixie Highway follows a natural path, first beaten into the ground by the traveling herds of buffalo. The path attracted humans: natives following their food and living off the land. Time passed, and more feet, hooves and wheels forced the trail to widen as more people flooded the land; eventually giving the road its first name Louisville & Nashville Turnpike.
The Turnpike was among the government's first attempts of highway organization, asphalt was laid and the roadway joined a larger network: Dixie Highway. The veins of transportation connecting America from Michigan to Florida guided travelers through their now-quicker journeys to the beating metropolis' of our country. But as the lights and largeness of Louisville and Nashville were the main draw to many, communities began to bloom in the in-between. There must have been something about the wind in the bluegrass, the babbling brooks or the way the goldenrods bloomed in late summer that attracted people to stay and build their home along the route.
Kentuckians like their Friday night live country music, the freshest vegetables from roadside produce stands, the thrill of the barter for good livestock, the hugs from close friends met at weekly worship and slow mornings at southern-style diners. But they are also not afraid to change; adapting to keep the southern hospitality and Kentucky traditions alive and well despite the industrialization of a society always needing to move faster.
The concept of a road holding this much importance is a unique one indeed. Nevertheless, the route is home to Kentucky life. This road provides the lifeblood to the heart of Kentucky, and the remaining communities along Dixie keep that heart beating by upholding traditions, day in and day out.
“It’s the things of old time that become less and mean more.”
~ Betty Swiger, Miss Betty’s Diner, Park City
~ Betty Swiger, Miss Betty’s Diner, Park City
Chapter one:
Preserving Tradition
Preserving Tradition
Chapter one:
Preserving Tradition
Preserving Tradition
FRANKLIN
Sandford Inn
Nicky Hughes looks onto the guest's side of the inn at the props he painstakingly curated for the space. Since becoming the innkeeper, Nicky took the time to create the most genuine experience possible to transport visitors back to life in the 1800's.
“With that road right there you could get almost everything you wanted," innkeeper Nicky Hughes mused as the rumble of trucks thundering down Highway 31W echoed around the historic walls of Sandford Duncan Inn. The sun shining through the old warped glass warmed the centuries-old wood furnishing the scene set up in the quaint prop space. The toys posed in front of the fireplace and dishes placed on the table remind visitors the inn wasn't just a place for travelers to sleep, it was a home for the keepers themselves.
The old inn operated from around 1819 to the 1860s and was redone privately a few years before ownership was transferred to Simpson County. However, after the restoration the Franklin Tourism Department couldn't find anyone willing to keep up the historic inn – until they discovered Nicky.
Ever since his childhood days of helping his mom handle and sell antiques of all kinds, Nicky has had a steadfast love for history. He worked for the Kentucky Historical Society in Frankfort until 2020, then he moved back to his hometown of Franklin.
Ever since his childhood days of helping his mom handle and sell antiques of all kinds, Nicky has had a steadfast love for history. He worked for the Kentucky Historical Society in Frankfort until 2020, then he moved back to his hometown of Franklin.
"I've tried to retire three times. I'm not good at it," Nicky said. "Running a historic site museum is what I have done my whole life, so why not keep doing it here."
Nicky spends his days keeping the interior of the house clean and giving tours. For the opening season in 2022, the inn consumed all of his time and energy. But looking into the future he hopes to work with the tourism department to get a full staff working at the inn, allowing Nicky to enjoy his version of retirement at a slower pace.
Nicky spends his days keeping the interior of the house clean and giving tours. For the opening season in 2022, the inn consumed all of his time and energy. But looking into the future he hopes to work with the tourism department to get a full staff working at the inn, allowing Nicky to enjoy his version of retirement at a slower pace.
Crop Shop
Automobiles ease up and turn off the road to take a look at the vibrant flora and fauna surrounding the well-loved vegetable stand, The Crop Shop, on the edge of Franklin. Through the colorful rows of plants and the doorway of the vegetable shack, two employees emerge with smiles and kind greetings: a recent hire, Shannon (no last name provided,) who has only worked at the shed for one season, and the current Crop Shop owner, Kristina "Kris" Dover, who has been a part of the Crop Shop family for eight years.
Kris loves the Crop Shop as if it was one of her three children, but the history of the business stretches much further back than herself. The Crop Shop was originally run by a man named Merril Stuart with a very different system than how it operates today. Merril's wife, Shirley, started the business by selling sweet corn out of the back of their pickup truck.
Kris loves the Crop Shop as if it was one of her three children, but the history of the business stretches much further back than herself. The Crop Shop was originally run by a man named Merril Stuart with a very different system than how it operates today. Merril's wife, Shirley, started the business by selling sweet corn out of the back of their pickup truck.
After they found success in that, Merril would set up the vegetables on a shelf with a large metal box alongside his property on the edge of 31W. Back then, Merril trusted people would follow the message written on the shelf and pay for the veggies they took. But as time went on, more vegetables would disappear and less cash would be in the box. So he changed his business method and created a supervised stand, open May through October. Around the start of the pandemic, Merril found he couldn't run the shop himself. Kris, who had been working the storefront for the past five years, then stepped up and volunteered to take his place. While also balancing her busy family life, Kris works harder than ever to honor her old boss and friend after he died in January 2023.
Kristina “Kris” Dover organizes potted flowers to be sold at the Crop Shop on a sunny morning.
*Click to hear Kris reminisce on Merril's legacy and the community it has created*
BOWLING GREEN
No Limits
The shrill cheers of children are quickly drowned out by the revving of engines at the No Limits Monster Truck show during the matinee performance at Western Kentucky University's L.D. Brown Agriculture Exposition Center. Thick tires spew dirt as they tear through hills of the course laid out in the center of the stadium before launching into the air. But to the side of the stage, a young boy quietly awaits his debut.
David Harris, 5, was to ride his toy motor jeep around the track in a children's race during intermission. While the race was open to the public, no one else signed up. This would have been a momentous occasion for him, as his grandfather used to be a monster truck racer with No Limits. Right as he pulled his jeep up to the entrance to the stadium, it broke down. Despite the setback, David was pushed around the track with his younger sibling by his side with some help from the No Limits staff and David's family.
Green Earth Stones
Green Earth Stones Metaphysical owner, Kathryn Brown, goes about business as usual in her shop in Bowling Green as seen through a crystal ball.
Kathryn Brown, middle, is surrounded by her employees at the check out counter of Green Earth Stones Metaphysical Shop.
The quiet chime of the door and a full-bodied wave of incense welcomes all who enter Green Earth Stones Metaphysical Shop. Started online in 2008 by Kathryn Brown, the only metaphysical shop in Bowling Green has been a staple on 31W for the spiritualists of the Warren County area since 2017. However, the business has not come without hardships.
“The whole energy of my shop is just the enjoyment and respect of all different cultures and spiritual paths," Kathryn said. "That’s the beauty of my shop.”
The important part of being on the bypass is getting to know the customers, which Kathryn had a hard time doing while waiting in limbo after the EF3 tornado struck in December 2021. Kathryn was then forced to revert back to her old business style of selling online out of storage containers from her house.
“The control of your business is taken away by mother nature,” Kathryn noted while recounting the struggle of working from home. She endured these hardships while waiting just over 13 months for repairs.
“The whole energy of my shop is just the enjoyment and respect of all different cultures and spiritual paths," Kathryn said. "That’s the beauty of my shop.”
The important part of being on the bypass is getting to know the customers, which Kathryn had a hard time doing while waiting in limbo after the EF3 tornado struck in December 2021. Kathryn was then forced to revert back to her old business style of selling online out of storage containers from her house.
“The control of your business is taken away by mother nature,” Kathryn noted while recounting the struggle of working from home. She endured these hardships while waiting just over 13 months for repairs.
Tornado Damage: Before and After
The tornado that swept down Highway 31-W left a devastating scar on its intersection with Hogle Drive.
August 2019
April 2023
The difficult year of waiting rewarded the business’s return with a silver lining: the ability to expand. Green Earth Stones Metaphysical Shop was able to return on February 1, 2023, to a remodeled space in the same location that is nearly three times its previous size. This expansion allowed Green Earth to provide spiritual services such as tarot card readings and even book clubs for the spiritual community who continue to support the shop.
“I love this location, I like where we are at,” Kathryn said while gazing around at the trinkets, talismans and stones of the shop that many customers find solace in.
“I love this location, I like where we are at,” Kathryn said while gazing around at the trinkets, talismans and stones of the shop that many customers find solace in.
SMITHS GROVE
ICY SINK CHURCH
Pastor Reverend Steve Branham of Icy Sink Baptist Church ends his sermon as the pianist, Billy Duval, begins a hymn for the congregation.
The doors of Icy Sink Baptist Church swing open allowing entrance to large families and lone souls alike. Each creak of the door is followed closely with cheerful greetings and high-energy chatter. The congregation begins to settle down and focus their energy on the service as a pianist starts playing. They take their seats at the pews while grasping their Bibles and hymn books worn by many hands flipping through the pages over the years. This is how Icy Sink begins their Sunday service.
“It’s about the strength not the length of the service,” said Pastor Reverend Steve Branham.
As Icy Sinks' pastor for the past 13 years, Steve has watched and experienced firsthand the kindness of this tight-knit community. When he first joined their congregation, he said the hospitality of the community was unparalleled. The spirit of the congregation exists as an infectious and nearly tangible energy that flows throughout the church’s interior, fueled by gospel music.
“It’s about the strength not the length of the service,” said Pastor Reverend Steve Branham.
As Icy Sinks' pastor for the past 13 years, Steve has watched and experienced firsthand the kindness of this tight-knit community. When he first joined their congregation, he said the hospitality of the community was unparalleled. The spirit of the congregation exists as an infectious and nearly tangible energy that flows throughout the church’s interior, fueled by gospel music.
“Our church as a whole, we bring in praise and worship. We don't wait, we bring it in with us."
-Pastor Reverend Steve Branham
-Pastor Reverend Steve Branham
Phyllis, usher of Icy Sink for over 10 years, hugs another member of the congregation after the Sunday service.
chapter 2:
Finding Family
Finding Family
chapter 2:
Finding Family
Finding Family
PARK CITY
Miss Betty's
A bell signals the arrival of new customers stepping into the dining room of Miss Betty’s Diner, which sits on the southern edge of Park City.
When someone walks through those doors, they’re family. “I always want [them] to feel like they’re walking into Grandma’s kitchen again, that same feeling, that warm feeling, that good food, home feeling. You’ve walked back into grandma’s kitchen and you’re home,” said Betty Swiger, owner of the diner.
When someone walks through those doors, they’re family. “I always want [them] to feel like they’re walking into Grandma’s kitchen again, that same feeling, that warm feeling, that good food, home feeling. You’ve walked back into grandma’s kitchen and you’re home,” said Betty Swiger, owner of the diner.
Portrait of all three generations working in Miss Betty's Diner: (Left to right) Savanah, Betty and Wendy.
Miss Betty’s Diner got its start in Smiths Grove, Kentucky, but when that location was bought out by Speedway, Betty thought it might be the end of her business due to skyrocketing rent costs in the area.
“I left it up to God and I went home,” Betty said. Soon after, her uncle told her he’d found a vacant space in Park City. When the new diner location first opened, it consisted of one single room attached to the kitchen, but the increasingly loyal fans of the diner's good cooking made it clear the small space wasn’t enough to hold all of Miss Betty’s customers. They have since expanded with an additional dining room as well as other accommodations.
The community is woven into the fabric of this business. Betty has gone out of her way to deliver food to community members in need who can’t make it out to get food on their own.
Her daughter, Wendy Cross, works long shifts to help manage the restaurant and still knows most of the customers by name. Betty’s granddaughter, Savanah, saves her tip money to buy toys during Christmas for local children who otherwise wouldn’t have anything from their wishlist to unwrap on Christmas morning. Betty hopes that the business, and its patrons, will stay in the family for many years to come.
“And with these people here,” she said, “I have no doubt in my mind that they’ll always keep this going on.”
“I left it up to God and I went home,” Betty said. Soon after, her uncle told her he’d found a vacant space in Park City. When the new diner location first opened, it consisted of one single room attached to the kitchen, but the increasingly loyal fans of the diner's good cooking made it clear the small space wasn’t enough to hold all of Miss Betty’s customers. They have since expanded with an additional dining room as well as other accommodations.
The community is woven into the fabric of this business. Betty has gone out of her way to deliver food to community members in need who can’t make it out to get food on their own.
Her daughter, Wendy Cross, works long shifts to help manage the restaurant and still knows most of the customers by name. Betty’s granddaughter, Savanah, saves her tip money to buy toys during Christmas for local children who otherwise wouldn’t have anything from their wishlist to unwrap on Christmas morning. Betty hopes that the business, and its patrons, will stay in the family for many years to come.
“And with these people here,” she said, “I have no doubt in my mind that they’ll always keep this going on.”
CAVE CITY
A Quiet Home
"After the interstate was built, fewer cars came down this way," Vichael Cline said as he worked on rebuilding a fence between his property and Highway 31W. Vichael has lived in his current house for only three years, but he has lived on the same property located alongside Dixie Highway since 1956. Despite being only about 10 years old when moving there, Vichael remembers the traffic that used to back up on the road around rush hour. But, as the years went on, fewer and fewer cars came through, and the once-new motels and tourist shops in the area aged and decayed.
ROWLETTS
Chicken Swap
David Moore, of Rowletts, sells a chicken to a customer from Campbellsville, Kentucky. Participants travel from all over Kentucky early in the morning to sell their poultry at the Hart County Chicken Swap.
Tires amble through the dewy grass, coming to a halt in the morning sun outside Rowletts’ VFW post. As trucks are unloaded, squawks and trills shatter the serene sounds of the morning as chickens, roosters and other feathered folk are set out by hopeful vendors ready to sell and trade during another Hart County Chicken Swap.
The weekly event is young in comparison to the traditions of Hart County’s rolling hills. The swap hasn’t missed a Saturday since its start in July 2022. Founder RT Logsdon had a penchant for chicken swaps and was done with driving for hours to find one. In contrast to his main occupation dealing with metal and oil as a mechanic, Logsdon finds happiness in the community of people with a passion for all things feathered. The community welcomes all, from young to old and from Rowletts' natives to visitors from Campbellsville. They also offer other vendors who sell anything from plants to candy.
For many attendees, the Hart County Chicken Swap is more than just a place to buy and sell birds. It’s a chance to connect with a community of like-minded people who share their love for poultry. Visitors swap stories and tips, ask for advice, or simply chat with other attendees about their birds.
The weekly event is young in comparison to the traditions of Hart County’s rolling hills. The swap hasn’t missed a Saturday since its start in July 2022. Founder RT Logsdon had a penchant for chicken swaps and was done with driving for hours to find one. In contrast to his main occupation dealing with metal and oil as a mechanic, Logsdon finds happiness in the community of people with a passion for all things feathered. The community welcomes all, from young to old and from Rowletts' natives to visitors from Campbellsville. They also offer other vendors who sell anything from plants to candy.
For many attendees, the Hart County Chicken Swap is more than just a place to buy and sell birds. It’s a chance to connect with a community of like-minded people who share their love for poultry. Visitors swap stories and tips, ask for advice, or simply chat with other attendees about their birds.
Harley May leans on a cage of chickens her mother and father have for sale at the Hart County Chicken Swap. While Harley loves the chickens and roosters they have at home, her sister, Kinley May, is not so fond of them.
*Click to hear Kinley May speak her mind about the birds swapped at the event*
BONNIEVILLE
“Bonnieville is a dying town," Mike Ard sighs as he stands on his mother's front porch. A deep red decor of stars, chairs and an orb on a pedestal tastefully embellish the front of the red-bricked home. With a quick glance at the house next door, which happens to be his childhood home, Mike remembers a bygone era. He has been living with his mother for the past four years in her old age but has been supporting her for nearly 30 years.
While the well-loved downtown of Bonnieville holds fond memories, it has fallen into disrepair. Despite passing ghostly buildings that whisper promises of good times past, a traveler driving through Bonnieville finds rows and rows of homes with character at their forefront. Every house has a porch, and every porch has personality. Some porches are decorated with maximalism in mind, with baubles and trinkets, while others are adorned in more of a minimalist tone, with a simple bench, book and half-filled ashtray. Despite the claims of the town fading into the past, the remaining community is alive and well.
ELIZABETHTOWN
Dixie Highway has a long-standing reputation of being a dangerous road to travel, coining the nickname "Dixie Dieway" for decades. Fast speed limits, cross-traffic turns and a lack of medians create the perfect concoction for accidents. In the United States today, over one million vertebrate animals are killed in roadway collisions daily.
While the road shifts to a more industrialized landscape, the determination of some in the Elizabethtown community attempt to allow past tradition to shine through. However, as the road ebbs and flows from south to north one can notice the shift of smaller, well cared for family businesses to a corporate, strip mall look. The buildings are roughly a similar age but they lack the care and love upheld in the preserved memories of other communities to the south.
CHAPTER 3:
Inheriting Legacy
Inheriting Legacy
CHAPTER 3:
Inheriting Legacy
Inheriting Legacy
WEST POINT
Ole Country
Late afternoon sun falls on the front porch of the Grand Ole Country Music Hall in West Point, Kentucky, and bounces into the ticket stall awaiting the Saturday crowd. Inside, instruments are tuned and microphones are checked as the home band takes the stage to prepare for the evening show, something the music house hasn't seen for years until the stage reopened six months prior, changing from its previous name, “Music Ranch,” to its current name.
Todd Bodenheimer performs onstage as Elvis. The physical effort of the performance takes skill too; the performance requires acting, high energy dancing and singing to take the audience back in time to a live Elvis show.
Every Friday and Saturday night, the Grand Ole Country Music Hall brings country music lovers the show they deserve. With a house band and a constantly rotating cast of performers, each show is a unique treat that creates a lasting memory. Not only do they cover their usual country singers with local singer Larry Sander and young upstart Christian Tobbe, but the music hall also brings a unique cast of characters to their stage, such as Elvis impersonator Todd Bodenheimer.
World renowned for his ability to become the beloved late-icon, Todd has perfected Elvis Presley's look and mannerisms. When he takes the stage, older eyes in the crowd light up with recognition and everyone enjoys his energetic covers of Elvis' classics; many in the audience sing along.
Without fail, the show goes on and the people gather to listen. The dedication Grand Ole Country Music Hall has to the music lovers of the West Point community shows through every set. The music hall puts on a show every Friday and Saturday with no plans to stop anytime soon.
World renowned for his ability to become the beloved late-icon, Todd has perfected Elvis Presley's look and mannerisms. When he takes the stage, older eyes in the crowd light up with recognition and everyone enjoys his energetic covers of Elvis' classics; many in the audience sing along.
Without fail, the show goes on and the people gather to listen. The dedication Grand Ole Country Music Hall has to the music lovers of the West Point community shows through every set. The music hall puts on a show every Friday and Saturday with no plans to stop anytime soon.
The audience enjoys the show in their own ways; some record with their phones to make the moment last longer while others sing along.
KOSMOSDALE
Urbanization takes over in the town of Kosmosdale, Kentucky an overspill of the metro life seeping from the outskirts of southwestern Louisville. Rows of modest homes are contrasted by the gargantuan Kosmos cement plant spewing steam and smoke in the air, followed by abandoned, desolate buildings one after the other boarded up and worn from age. Harsh scenery and some wandering aimlessly through the night with glassy eyes and dilated pupils provide a a further sense of decay. A sign of graffiti on a street corner echoes the words of many living along the route: "Stop Heroin and Fentanyl."
Many of the towns in rural Kentucky deal with drug usage as either witnesses or participants. Fentanyl and other opioids are the most prominent drug of choice, followed closely by heroin, meth and cocaine. In 2022, Louisville DEA agents, working with the Jeffersontown Police Department, intercepted 30 kilograms (66.1 lbs) of cocaine and one kilogram (2.2 lbs) of Fentanyl. With a decline in community support as the road continues north, drugs and the overdoses they induce become more and more common. The abandoned spaces along the highway illustrate the same decline of support.
Many of the towns in rural Kentucky deal with drug usage as either witnesses or participants. Fentanyl and other opioids are the most prominent drug of choice, followed closely by heroin, meth and cocaine. In 2022, Louisville DEA agents, working with the Jeffersontown Police Department, intercepted 30 kilograms (66.1 lbs) of cocaine and one kilogram (2.2 lbs) of Fentanyl. With a decline in community support as the road continues north, drugs and the overdoses they induce become more and more common. The abandoned spaces along the highway illustrate the same decline of support.
Urbanization takes over in the town of Kosmosdale, Kentucky, an overspill of the metro life seeping from the outskirts of southwestern Louisville. Rows of modest homes are contrasted by the gargantuan Kosmos cement plant spewing steam and smoke in the air, followed by abandoned, desolate buildings one after the other boarded up and worn from age. Harsh scenery and some wandering aimlessly through the night with glassy eyes and dilated pupils provide a a further sense of decay. A sign of graffiti on a street corner echoes the words of many living along the route: "Stop Heroin and Fentanyl."
Many of the towns in rural Kentucky deal with drug usage as either witnesses or participants. Fentanyl and other opioids are the most prominent drug of choice, followed closely by heroin, meth and cocaine. In 2022, Louisville DEA agents, working with the Jeffersontown Police Department, intercepted 30 kilograms (66.1 lbs) of cocaine and one kilogram (2.2 lbs) of Fentanyl. With a decline in community support as the road continues north, drugs and the overdoses they induce become more and more common. The abandoned spaces along the highway illustrate the same decline of support.
Many of the towns in rural Kentucky deal with drug usage as either witnesses or participants. Fentanyl and other opioids are the most prominent drug of choice, followed closely by heroin, meth and cocaine. In 2022, Louisville DEA agents, working with the Jeffersontown Police Department, intercepted 30 kilograms (66.1 lbs) of cocaine and one kilogram (2.2 lbs) of Fentanyl. With a decline in community support as the road continues north, drugs and the overdoses they induce become more and more common. The abandoned spaces along the highway illustrate the same decline of support.
In Kentucky's 2021 overdose fatality report, an opioid was involved in 90% of all overdose deaths, and fentanyl was detected in more than 70% of those cases, not only in Kentucky but nationwide.
LOUISVILLE
Caufield's
Tracy Caufield-Johnson (above) runs the century-old family business with her brother, Kerry Caufield.
Kerry and Tracy Caufield, a sibling duo, carry on the legacy of their grandfather Keran S. Caufield through the family business. Caufield Sr. was an Irish immigrant who opened a photography studio in 1915. When Keran's son, Kerry, and Tracy's father, were involved in an automobile accident, the family received an insurance settlement. After paying the medical bills, they used the leftover $25 to purchase novelty merchandise to amuse the customers as they waited for their tintype photographs to develop. The studio began to sell these items because of demand and eventually selling the curios brought in more money than the photography. When the photography studio closed for good, Caufield's Novelties was born in its place in 1920.
“I always say photography stores in the early 1900s are kind of like video stores in the 80s," Tracy said. “They were everywhere."
Caufield's Novelty has always been unique. Throughout the Great Depression the storefront persevered, and the inexpensive jokes and magic tricks became a light in a dark time. Caufield's is now one of the oldest and largest theatrical distributors in the country and competes with a growing market of online sellers by shipping nationwide and overseas. Despite the competition with an increase in online sellers, Caufield's is here to stay. “I think you have to do a little something extra these days so you are a place that people want to come to instead of sitting on their computer and ordering," Tracy said. And at Caufields Novelty, there's never a shortage of a little something extra.
“I always say photography stores in the early 1900s are kind of like video stores in the 80s," Tracy said. “They were everywhere."
Caufield's Novelty has always been unique. Throughout the Great Depression the storefront persevered, and the inexpensive jokes and magic tricks became a light in a dark time. Caufield's is now one of the oldest and largest theatrical distributors in the country and competes with a growing market of online sellers by shipping nationwide and overseas. Despite the competition with an increase in online sellers, Caufield's is here to stay. “I think you have to do a little something extra these days so you are a place that people want to come to instead of sitting on their computer and ordering," Tracy said. And at Caufields Novelty, there's never a shortage of a little something extra.
Local residents run across the street toward Caufield's Novelty.
The road continues on, beating a path over the Ohio River on the 2nd Street Bridge. More stories, traditions and communities exist along Highway 31W as it stretches north through Indiana eventually reaching Mackinaw City, Michigan. But as the unrelenting march of modernization continues, the people of Kentucky will always remember their roots.
Project By Anna Leachman and Gabi Broekema
Video edited by Gabi Broekema
Visuals and words by both
A Special Thank you to:
Kara Brunot
Amy Ellis
And all the communities along the road who let us into their lives.
Video edited by Gabi Broekema
Visuals and words by both
A Special Thank you to:
Kara Brunot
Amy Ellis
And all the communities along the road who let us into their lives.