Miss Laura's Social Club

                Prostitution has often been called the world’s oldest profession, and in Fort Smith (Sebastian County), this intriguing history is neither hidden nor whitewashed. Instead, it stands out in a beautiful green building on Garrison Avenue: welcome to Miss Laura’s Social Club, which now serves as the city’s official visitor center. What began as a house of prostitution has become one of the most famous historical landmarks in the area.

                In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Fort Smith was a rough and tumble river and railroad hub, teeming with soldiers, marshals, outlaws, and the many working men passing through the last vestiges of “civilization.” Where there was money, loneliness, and whiskey, vice followed closely behind. The red-light district flourished mere footsteps from the tracks, with Miss Laura’s among the most notable establishments operating openly at the time. This was not a secret back-alley endeavor; it thrived as a business, regulated and tolerated, intricately woven into the city's fabric.

                What set Miss Laura's apart was its reputation for being relatively respectable for a brothel. Managed by Laura Ziegler, the house enforced its own rules: no weapons, no drunken disorder, and no violence. The women were expected to maintain professionalism, while clients were required to behave. In a city infamous for Judge Isaac Parker, popularly known as “The Hangin’ Judge,” order was essential—even in a place steeped in sin. This commitment to conduct resulted in a house known for its safety, cleanliness, and discretion, qualities that solidified its place in the rich backstory of Fort Smith’s history.

                When the allure of the red-light district waned, and Miss Laura's doors closed, the building faced the possibility of fading into obscurity. Rather than opting for demolition, Fort Smith city officials chose to preserve this iconic structure. Today, Miss Laura's functions as Fort Smith's visitor center, warmly welcoming tourists with maps, brochures, and friendly faces. The transformation feels almost poetic: a venue once devoted to pleasure is now centered on hospitality. Yet, the past remains visible; the upstairs rooms are preserved, stories are shared openly, and the building's history is acknowledged without any embarrassment.

                In my opinion, Miss Laura’s stands out as a testament to the unique character that defines Fort Smith. Unlike many towns that polish their pasts into shiny, marketable narratives, Fort Smith boldly embraces its history, as evident in its decision to transform a former brothel into a welcoming point for residents and visitors alike. This choice conveys a subtle yet powerful message: this is our story, and we take pride in it. After all, history is rarely accommodating.

                As you step inside Miss Laura’s, the layers of Fort Smith’s rich history unfold before you. The city has always been a juxtaposition of law and lawlessness, from churches and saloons to justice and vice co-existing in harmony. The building itself embodies this balance, reminding us that the American narrative encompasses not only aspiration and morality but also the intricate dance of survival and desire that defines community life.

                Miss Laura’s does not romanticize or vilify its past; it simply presents the building’s true story. In doing so, it offers a far more nuanced understanding of history than mere plaques or historical markers could ever convey, recognizing that towns are shaped not only by their heroes but by the everyday lives of common people—imperfect yet resilient individuals doing their best in challenging times.

                Ultimately, the enduring appeal of Miss Laura’s lies in its authenticity. It serves as a reminder that Fort Smith has always been a crossroads, influenced by movement, commerce, and the complexities of human morality. While calling prostitution the oldest profession may be a playful quip, at Miss Laura’s, it opens a doorway to understanding the city itself: unrefined, resilient, and unexpectedly inviting.

                For those interested in learning more about Miss Laura's, you can visit the center’s website at www.misslaurasmuseum.com. However, for a truly enriching experience, why not take a trip to Fort Smith and see it all for yourself? It’s definitely worth the drive!

Batesville's Historic Lock and Dam

                As most folks pass over the White River in Batesville (Independence County), the winding waterway rarely captures a second glance. I know I didn’t think much of it during my visit to this historic city last Saturday, accompanying my wife on a work trip. The river flows steadily beneath the bridge, a familiar sight in our everyday lives. Yet, just downstream lies a significant structure that has quietly influenced the city for more than a century: White River Lock and Dam No. 1.

                Constructed in 1903, Lock and Dam No. 1 emerged during a time when the United States relied heavily on its rivers for transportation. Initiated through the Rivers and Harbors Act of 1899, this project was part of a grand federal vision to enhance the White River for commercial navigation. Although plans were made for ten locks and dams along the river, only three came to fruition, with Batesville’s being the first.

                The dam spans approximately 660 feet across the river, featuring a lock chamber designed to lift boats about 15 feet above low water levels. At one time, this height was crucial. Steamboats transporting goods like lumber, cotton, and agricultural products required reliable river conditions, and the lock offered a solution, allowing vessels to navigate around troublesome shallow areas.

                Batesville’s bond with the White River predates the dam itself. As early as the 1830s, steamboats were a common sight at the docks, establishing the town as a bustling regional trading hub. For many years, the river served as the lifeblood that brought people, resources, and opportunity to the area.

                However, this dynamic shifted in the late 19th century with the arrival of the railroad. Rail transport gained favor due to its speed, dependability, and reduced vulnerability to the whims of weather and water levels. As trains began to replace boats, river commerce began to dwindle. By the mid-20th century, the Corps of Engineers determined that maintaining the navigation system on the White River was no longer financially sustainable, leading to the closure of the lock gates at Dam No. 1 in 1952.

                What could have easily become a forgotten relic of days gone by has instead found a new lease on life. The City of Batesville took ownership of the site, transforming the surrounding area into what we now know as Riverside Park. The dam has transitioned from being an industrial asset to a community treasure. Families can be seen picnicking nearby, while anglers cast their lines into the deep waters below the spillway. Walkers and joggers enjoy picturesque views of the river that once carried steamboats upstream.

                But the story of the dam doesn’t end there. In the latter half of the 20th century, local leaders recognized the river’s steady flow as a source of untapped potential. With an increasing focus on renewable energy, attention turned back to Lock and Dam No. 1, this time as a crucial player in hydropower production rather than just navigation.

                After years of planning, securing financing, and navigating regulatory hurdles, a hydroelectric facility was established at the site. It began generating electricity in 2007, enough to power thousands of homes. While it may still be considered modest compared to larger power facilities, this project signifies a significant investment in local renewable energy and contributes to economic development.

                Today, Lock and Dam No. 1 wears many hats. It serves as functional infrastructure, quietly generating power while also being a beloved recreational landmark at the heart of one of Batesville’s most frequented public spaces. It stands as a living testament to the city’s longstanding relationship with the White River.

                However, maintaining the dam is an ongoing necessity as it ages—a reality faced by any structure subjected to decades of rushing water and seasonal flooding. Recent repair efforts highlight the need to strike a balance between preserving historic infrastructure and ensuring public safety and usability.

                In many respects, White River Lock and Dam No. 1 mirrors Batesville itself: adaptable, resilient, and shaped by the winds of change. What began as a gateway for commerce has evolved into a vital community gathering spot and now plays a significant role in the region’s energy future. The river continues to flow, the dam remains strong, and together they narrate the story of a town built on the edge of one of the most important waterways in the Natural State.

Arkansas's Country Music History: Part Two

            Last week in my column, I wrote about some of the most prominent country singers to come out of the Natural State — legends like Johnny Cash, Conway Twitty, and Glen Campbell. It was a fun trip through music history, but as a sharp-eyed (and sharp-eared) lady at my church kindly pointed out afterward, I left off some important names. She was absolutely right.

            So, please consider this week’s column a continuation — and a correction — because Arkansas’s influence on country music runs far deeper than just a handful of household names. From silky-voiced crooners to chart-topping hitmakers, Arkansas has produced a remarkable lineup of artists who deserve their due.

            You can’t talk about Arkansas country music without talking about Charlie Rich. Born in Colt (St. Francis County).  Nicknamed “The Silver Fox,” Rich had a smooth, sophisticated sound that set him apart in Nashville. Songs like “Behind Closed Doors” and “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World” made him a superstar in the 1970s, earning him a Grammy and multiple CMA awards. On a side note, Rich had a fishing cabin on Lake Norrell near Benton (Saline County), which happens to be where my wife and I live. The old cabin was recently renovated, with a side building being refurbished with a mural depicting the country music star.

            Another Arkansas native with deep country roots is Tracy Lawrence. Born in Atlanta, Texas, but raised in Foreman (Little River County) became one of the biggest stars of 1990s country music. With hits like “Sticks and Stones,” Time Marches On,” and “Can’t Break It to My Heart,” Lawrence has been a mainstay on country radio for decades. Before the eight number one hits and millions of records sold, there were gigs in small towns in southwest Arkansas and big dreams — and it’s always special to know our state was part of that journey from the very beginning.

            Joe Nichols is another name that deserves recognition. Born in Rogers (Benton County), Nichols proudly claims Arkansas as home. With his traditional country sound and rich baritone voice, Nichols has scored several hits like “Brokenheartsville,” “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off,” and “Gimmie That Girl.” In an era when country music was often drifting toward pop, Nichols helped keep one foot firmly planted in classic country tradition, something Arkansas fans have always appreciated.

            Then there’s one of my all-time favorite female singer/songwriters-- K.T. Oslin. Kay Toinette Oslin was born in Crossett (Ashley County) but raised in Memphis. Oslin broke barriers in country music, proving that success didn’t have an age limit. She didn’t score her first major hit until her mid-40s, but when she did, she came out hot. Songs like “80’s Ladies” and “Do Ya?” spoke directly to adult women — a demographic that Nashville often overlooked. Oslin’s success paved the way for more mature voices and stories in country music, and her Arkansas roots make her achievements even sweeter.

            Collin Raye, from DeQueen (Sevier County), is another Arkansas favorite. With a powerful, emotional singing style, Raye delivered heartfelt hits like “Love, Me,” “In This Life,” and “That’s My Story.” His songs often focused on family, faith, and everyday struggles — themes that resonate strongly with Arkansas audiences. Raye’s career may not always have been flashy, but it was honest, and that authenticity helped him build a lasting connection with fans.

            And finally, there’s Martin Delray from Texarkana (Miller County). Born Michael Martin, he was encouraged by his record label, Atlantic Records, to adopt the stage name Martin Delray to avoid confusion with established recording artist Michael Martin Murphey. Delray showed real promise as a songwriter and performer, blending traditional country sounds with thoughtful storytelling. He scored two top-twenty hits in the 1990s: “Get Rhythm” and “Lillie’s White Lies.” “Get Rhythm” was a remake of a Johnny Cash song, and Cash, a labelmate of Delray’s, appeared in the music video. The video was placed in heavy rotation by CMT and TNN.  There’s also a personal connection for me — Martin’s uncle, Stan, was my childhood neighbor, and through that relationship, I had the chance to meet Martin several times.

            The Natural State has never been short on musical talent. From small towns and church pews to national stages, these artists carried a piece of home with them wherever they went. And as I was reminded last week, sometimes it takes more than 700 words to tell the whole story.

Arkansas's Country Music History

                Growing up in a household where country music ruled the airwaves, the sounds of artists like Johnny Cash, Conway Twitty, Don Williams, and Mickey Gilley were a constant presence. My parents embraced this genre wholeheartedly, ensuring that whether we were at home or driving down the highway, the radio, always tuned to KSSN 96 FM, was always filled with the heartfelt stories and melodies of country. These songs didn’t just fill the air; they became the very fabric of my childhood, shaping my love for music and my grasp of storytelling, emotion, and tradition. It’s only fitting that Arkansas, my beloved home state, has played such a crucial part in the tapestry of country music history.

                The Natural State has been a subtle yet powerful contributor to the evolution of American music, particularly in the realm of country. From the Delta’s rich farmland to intimate small-town performances, Arkansas has nurtured voices that have helped define the sound and storytelling traditions of the genre. While Nashville may hold the title of country music’s epicenter, Arkansas has served as both a birthplace and proving ground for some of its most significant stars.

                You can’t mention Arkansas country legends without starting with the iconic Johnny Cash. Born in Kingsland (Cleveland County) and raised in Dyess (Mississippi County), Cash’s lyrical prowess was deeply embedded in the trials and triumphs of rural life in Arkansas. His songs, such as “Five Feet High and Rising” and “Pickin’ Time,” were direct reflections of his experiences during the Great Depression. With his rich baritone and keen empathy for the working class, Cash transformed country music into a more socially aware art form.

                Another luminary from this vibrant music scene is Harold Jenkins, who is better known to fans as Conway Twitty. Legend has it that when Jenkins sought a memorable stage name, he consulted a map and found inspiration in the names of two towns: Conway, Arkansas, and Twitty, Texas. Although Twitty was born in Friars Point, Mississippi, he spent his formative years in Helena (Phillips County), where his musical career began to flourish. Twitty would go on to become one of the most successful country artists, amassing an impressive number of No. 1 hits—more than any other artist of his time (a record that would eventually be surpassed by the legendary George Strait). With classics like “Hello Darlin’,“ “Don’t Take It Away,” and “Goodbye Time,” Twitty’s emotive songs and captivating storytelling left an indelible mark on the genre, marking him as a cherished part of Arkansas' musical legacy.

                Glen Campbell, a global icon with roots in Arkansas, was born in the small community of Billstown, just outside Delight (Pike County). Rising from humble beginnings, Campbell carved out a place in history as one of country music's most versatile performers. His timeless hits like “Gentle on My Mind,” “Wichita Lineman,” and “Rhinestone Cowboy” seamlessly blended country and pop while remaining grounded in his authentic background. Renowned for his exceptional guitar skills and powerful voice, Campbell captured the hearts of music lovers across various genres and generations.

                The influence of Arkansas in modern country music is evident in artists like Justin Moore, who hails from Poyen (Grant County). Moore takes pride in his small-town roots, frequently drawing inspiration from rural life, faith, and family in his songs. Tracks such as “Small Town, USA” resonate with my fellow Arkansans and find common ground with fans nationwide.

                Ashley McBryde, a notable contemporary musician from Waldron (Scott County), is another example of Arkansas talent making waves. Her rise in the industry has been marked by a fearless approach to songwriting, characterized by raw honesty. McBryde's music delves into themes of heartbreak, resilience, and personal struggle, with a Southern grit that is both authentic and compelling.

                From the powerful voice of Johnny Cash to the smooth ballads of Conway Twitty and today’s chart-topping stars, Arkansas has consistently nurtured artists who tell compelling stories with heart and sincerity. The Natural State’s impact on country music may not always be loud, but its depth, endurance, and unmistakable authenticity echo in the melodies that once filled my childhood home.

Benton's Historic Cemeteries

                  

                   The city of Benton, the heart of Saline County, is home to some of the area's oldest burial sites that tell unique stories of our community’s past. Among these, Crouch Cemetery and the historically rich Hughes Cemetery, often referred to as the potter’s field, provide a glimpse into the lives of those who came before us, showcasing life in 19th-century Arkansas.

                  Crouch Cemetery, a modest yet significant burial ground in Benton, may not be extensively documented in state historical records, but it holds an essential place in local genealogy and cemetery registries. Located near South Street and Interstate 30, behind the site of what was once the Newcomb Garage, this private cemetery is primarily known as the final resting place for members of the Crouch family. Here, one can find the graves of notable individuals such as Benjamin Franklin Crouch, among others, preserving the memory of early Benton settlers.

                 While it might not boast the size or prominence of larger community cemeteries, Crouch Cemetery continues to play a vital role in Benton’s historical narrative. It serves as a poignant reminder of the families who established roots in this area, shaping the community we know today.

                Not far from Benton’s downtown lies another historically significant site: Hughes Cemetery. Commonly acknowledged by locals and historians as the early potter’s field or county cemetery, Hughes Cemetery dates back to the mid-1800s. Named after Green Hughes, a pivotal figure in Benton’s founding, this burial ground is steeped in local lore. Born in North Carolina in 1800, Hughes ventured to Arkansas to build a new life. He operated a general store and became Benton’s first postmaster shortly after Arkansas became the 25th state in June 1836.

                When Hughes died in 1858, he and his family chose a plot of land on what was once his farm for his burial. Unfortunately, over time, the original grave markers for Hughes, his wife, Louisa, daughter, Catherine, and son-in-law, Sam Steele, have fallen victim to the ravages of time, becoming lost or vandalized.

                Over the decades that followed, the cemetery grew well beyond its origins as a simple family plot. It became known in the community as a county cemetery, often referred to as a potter’s field—a term historically used for burial sites designated for those without means, unclaimed individuals, or those lacking family to bury them. In this regard, Hughes Cemetery emerged as the final resting place for many of Benton’s early residents, including pioneers and lesser-known locals, many of whom rest without headstones or proper markers.

               An 1882 deed highlights the cemetery, describing it as “100 yards square embracing the old graveyard,” indicating that the land had evolved into a communal burial ground rather than just a site for individual families.

              Like many older cemeteries in expanding towns, Hughes Cemetery fell into disrepair over the years, suffering from neglect, overgrowth, and vandalism. By the early 2000s, however, interest in preserving it began to grow, leading to the establishment of the Hughes Cemetery Association in 2004, aimed at restoring and maintaining the area. Local volunteers, including Boy Scout troops and various work crews, came together to clear underbrush and put up signage.

              In 2019, Hughes Cemetery was added to the Arkansas Register of Historic Places, honoring its significance in Benton’s early history and the importance of remembering those buried there.

              Today, although many graves remain unmarked and vulnerable to the effects of time, local historians and community volunteers tirelessly work to safeguard this historic burial site.

              Combined, both Crouch Cemetery and Hughes Cemetery emphasize the vital need to preserve local burial sites, not merely as places of rest, but as lasting connections to the history of the region and the lives of its earliest inhabitants.

Arkansas's Historic Plantation Homes

                The few cotton plantation homes that still stand within our state’s borders reveal a great deal about Arkansas's history. These stunning examples of Southern architecture not only showcase beautiful design but also whisper tales of a time when the cotton industry flourished, intertwined with deep-seated complexities of wealth and human experience. While many plantation homes across the South have been lost to the ravages of time, several in Arkansas stand, acting as poignant reminders of the state’s agricultural roots and the legacy of slavery that underpinned its economic development.

                Imagine walking along the wide porches of these grand homes, many of which showcase architectural styles such as Greek Revival, Colonial Revival, and Victorian. With their towering columns and airy rooms, these estates were designed to impress, serving not just as residences for the rich and powerful but as proud symbols of power and prosperity in the early to mid-19th century.

                Take, for instance, Lakeport Plantation near Lake Village (Chicot County), built in 1859. This Greek Revival gem is one of the few plantation homes in the state that invites visitors inside to experience the antebellum Southern lifestyle firsthand. Its large windows and symmetrical design stand as a testament to the era’s artistic vision. Today, Lakeport serves as a museum, providing visitors with the opportunity to learn more about the economic and cultural dynamics that have shaped the region. 

                Yet, amidst the beauty of these homes lies a stark reminder—the wealth that adorned these elaborate estates was built on the backs of enslaved individuals. Their labor is essential to understanding the real narrative behind these impressive residences.

                While the cotton plantation homes often symbolize status and affluence, the untold stories of the people who toiled in the fields paint a fuller picture. Beyond the grandeur of these structures, the lives of those who maintained the estates and faced unimaginable hardships deserve recognition. It’s a reminder to look beyond the façade and appreciate the intricate tapestry of history that these homes represent. So, as you explore Arkansas’s plantation landscapes, take a moment to reflect on both the beauty and the complexity woven into their walls.

                 Though many of the smaller structures where enslaved people lived no longer exist, a few have been preserved as part of historical sites. These small, often crude cabins were a stark contrast to the opulence of the plantation homes, reflecting the brutal realities of life for the enslaved. My former workplace, Historic Arkansas Museum in Little Rock (Pulaski County), for example, is working to highlight these overlooked stories, offering exhibits that delve into the lives of the people who made the plantation economy possible.

                One of the most important preservation efforts in our state is the Walker House in Jefferson County. Although not a grand plantation home, the house tells a powerful story of African American resilience post-Civil War. Built by a freed couple, it serves as a reminder that not all African Americans were dependent on white landowners and that they played a key role in Arkansas’s post-war reconstruction.

                Through these efforts, plantation homes that once represented the height of Southern wealth are now used to tell more complete, and often painful, histories. Visitors to these sites learn about both the grandeur and the exploitation that shaped them.

                Looking ahead, the future of these homes rests on the continued balance between preserving the architecture and telling the fuller story of the lives behind the facades. Preservation efforts must continue, but the narratives must continue as well. Many of these sites are beginning to focus more on the contributions and suffering of enslaved people, emphasizing their integral role in the economic systems that allowed these homes to thrive.

                While these homes stand as lasting symbols of Arkansas's past, they also serve as reminders of the state's complicated history of race, labor, and inequality. Through ongoing preservation and reinterpretation, they can help inform the present and future, offering lessons in resilience, empathy, and the importance of understanding our history in all its complexity.

                As the dialogue about race and history continues to evolve, the Natural State’s cotton plantation homes will undoubtedly remain at the heart of this conversation, standing as both testaments to the state's architectural heritage and powerful reminders of its dark past.