#johnston county

[federer7]

Dormered Cabins, Georgetown vic., Georgetown County, South Carolina. 1936 or 1937

Photo by Frances Benjamin Johnston

[pinkblanc]

Frances B. Johnston, Mount Prodigal, Virginia, 1935

[thebohemianloner]

Abandoned Estate Historical Ruins • Bethlehem, PA

[libraryofva]

Recent Acquisition - Ephemera Collection

Three Hills, Warm Springs, Virginia. May to November.

[todieforimages]

Queen Anne House-Johnston, South Carolina

Built in 1900, this home is a contributing property to the Johnston Historic District.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

A.B. Stoddard at The Bulwark:

1. Trump’s Not Taking the L. . .

The last two weeks—the unveiling of the Harris-Walz ticket, and Kamala Harris’s surge in the polls—feels like some surreal dream state. Everything has changed. Have you noticed Harris has pushed Donald Trump right out of the comfy lead he’s held for an entire year? He’s noticed. From FiveThirtyEight to RealClearPolitics—pick your polling average—they all now show Harris out in front after only two and a half weeks.

Trump is no longer on track to win the election—which he has been for more than six straight months. Instead, the momentum, money, voter registration, volunteering, grassroots organizing, polling, and online engagement all favor the Democrats and it looks now like Trump could easily lose. But that won’t happen, because Trump doesn’t lose. He beat Joe Biden in 2020—remember? So if he’s not the rightful victor on November 5, an entire army of Republicans is ready to block certification of the election at the local level. No need to worry about mayhem on January 6, 2025 when Congress meets in joint session; the election deniers plan to stop a result right away if it looks like Harris is winning. Their goal: Refuse to certify anywhere—even a county that Trump won—and prevent certification in that state, which prevents certification of the presidential election. A Harris victory could become a nightmare.

An investigation by Rolling Stone identified “in the swing states of Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania . . . at least 70 pro-Trump election conspiracists currently working as county election officials who have questioned the validity of elections or delayed or refused to certify results.” Of those 70, 22 of them already have “refused or delayed certification” in recent past elections. Nationwide, Republicans have refused to certify results at least 25 times since 2020, in eight states—the most in Georgia.

The article describes social media posts from the zealots who have infiltrated election administration as showing “unapologetic belief in Trump’s election lies, support for political violence, themes of Christian nationalism, and controversial race-based views.” There are more than enough such individuals in these key posts to bring us to a constitutional crisis. “I think we are going to see mass refusals to certify the election” in November, Democratic election lawyer Marc Elias told Rolling Stone. “Everything we are seeing about this election is that the other side is more organized, more ruthless, and more prepared.” Sit with that.

Then there is this. Trump’s self-destructive attacks on Georgia’s popular governor made the headlines from his Atlanta rally last Saturday, but he also singled out for praise three little-known Georgians—Janice Johnston, Rick Jeffares, and Janelle King—calling them “pitbulls fighting for honesty, transparency, and victory.” Who are Johnston, Jeffares, and King? They are three of the five members of Georgia’s State Election Board. Three days after Trump’s speech, this past Tuesday, those three Republicans approved a new rule requiring a “reasonable inquiry” prior to election certification that—while vague and undefined—could be exploited to delay certification and threaten the statewide election certification deadline of November 22.

The law in Georgia, where Trump and fourteen1 others are charged with plotting to overturn the 2020 election result, requires county election boards to certify results “not later than 5:00 P.M. on the Monday following the date on which such election was held”—so this year, by the evening of November 11. The secretary of state is then to certify the statewide results “not later than 5:00 P.M. on the seventeenth day” after the election, so November 22.

Across the country, the November election results will have to be certified in more than 3,000 counties, and all state results must be final by the time electors meet in each state on December 17. Members of county election boards are not tasked with resolving election issues; certification is mandatory and “ministerial,” not discretionary. Disputes over ballot issues are separate from the certification process—investigated and adjudicated by district attorneys, state election boards, and in court. Election experts say the new rule could disrupt the entire process across the state by allowing local partisans to reject results. And Georgia appears to be at the center of Trump’s plans. Casting doubt on Fulton County, which makes up the bulk of Democratic votes in the state, will help him claim he won the Peach State as the rest of the results come in red.

But even without an explicitly permitted “inquiry” like the new Georgia rule provides, Republicans in other swing states still plan on acting at the county level to slow or stop certification. Because questioning the outcome at the very start of the process will create delay. Any doubt and confusion, and perhaps even violence, makes it easier to miss essential deadlines and can threaten the chance that the rightful winner prevails. Election deniers also hope that sowing chaos might prompt GOP legislatures to intervene—in Georgia, Arizona, or Wisconsin for example—a dangerous scenario I wrote about in April.

[...] It’s crucial that these plans are widely publicized. And they can be. Just like Project 2025, which was virtually unheard of and is now in the forefront of the political debate. Putting a media spotlight on this issue will force Republican officials to address what they are well aware of and are refusing to call out. Yesterday CBS News reported Biden said in his first interview since leaving the presidential race he is “not confident at all” there will be a peaceful transfer of power if Trump loses. Harris isn’t likely to talk about this in her campaign, so it’s critical that other high-profile surrogates do. President Obama, President Clinton, Hillary Clinton, and others must educate voters about the plot underway to force more public pressure and accountability on the process. Every Republican must be asked about local certification of elections, electors honoring the popular vote of their state, preventing political violence—all of it. Repeatedly. As Elias told an interviewer, there are things we can do, as citizens willing to invest some time, to take action. This isn’t a threat from abroad. This year—and likely for years to come—we will all have to continue to fight against what our fellow Americans are doing to subvert elections. Because without free elections—and facts and truth—we cannot be a free country.

A.B. Stoddard wrote in The Bulwark that Republicans will seek to cause chaos post-election to try to block certification of a potential Kamala Harris win.

[ausetkmt]

Pharmacist Lunsford Richardson made Vicks a household name throughout the nation, but his popular product did not do the same for him.

Even in his native North Carolina, where his most celebrated of chemical concoctions has been right under our stuffy noses and on our congested chests for generations, the mention of Richardson’s name elicits blank stares from all but those who study and cherish history.

Richardson’s salve, Vicks VapoRub, helped the world breathe easier during the devastating influenza pandemic of 1918 and during the countless colds and flus of our childhoods, yet most of us couldn’t pick Lunsford Richardson out of a one-man police lineup, much less a who’s who of medical pioneers.

Why didn’t Richardson — by all accounts a creative inventor and smart businessman — ever become as famous as those vapors packed into the familiar squat blue jar?

Because his name wouldn’t fit on the jar.

That’s one version of the story. According to company and family lore, Richardson initially dubbed his promising new product Richardson’s Croup and Pneumonia Cure Salve. Realizing that this name didn’t exactly roll off the tongue nor fit when printed on a small medicine jar, Richardson changed the name to honor his brother-in-law, Dr. Joshua Vick. Another account suggests the inventive druggist plucked the name from a seed catalog he’d been perusing that listed the Vick Seed Co.

The truth may never be known. What is known, though, is that Lunsford Richardson created a medicinal marvel for the ages, the likes of which may never be equaled.

Croupy beginnings

A Johnston County native born in 1854, Richardson loved chemistry and hoped to study it at Davidson College. The college’s chemistry program at the time wasn’t as strong as he’d hoped it would be, so he studied Latin instead, graduating with honors in three years. He returned to Johnston County and taught school, but it wasn’t long before the young man’s love of chemistry got the best of him. In 1880, he moved to Selma to work with his physician brother-in-law, Dr. Vick. It was not uncommon in those days for doctors to dispense drugs themselves, but Vick was so busy seeing patients that he teamed up with Richardson, allowing him to handle the pharmacy duties for him. Richardson relied on his knowledge of Latin to help him learn the chemical compounds required to become a pharmacist, and that’s when he began to experiment with recipes for the product that would become Vicks VapoRub.

It wasn’t until Richardson moved to his wife’s hometown of Greensboro in 1890 that his magical salve and other products he created began to take off.

“He was a man of great intellect and talent,” says Linda Evans, community historian for the Greensboro Historical Museum, which has an exhibit devoted to Richardson and Vicks.

“Druggists at the time fashioned their own remedies a lot, and he created a number of remedies, in addition to his magic salve, that he sold under the name of Vick’s Family Remedies. He was obviously a man of such creativity.”

In Greensboro, working out of a downtown drugstore he purchased (where he once employed a teenaged William Sydney Porter, the future short story writer O. Henry), Richardson patented some 21 medicines. The wide variety of pills, liquids, ointments, and assorted other medicinal concoctions included the likes of Vick’s Chill Tonic, Vick’s Turtle Oil Liniment, Vick’s Little Liver Pills and Little Laxative Pills, Vick’s Tar Heel Sarsaparilla, Vick’s Yellow Pine Tar Cough Syrup, and Vick’s Grippe Knockers (aimed at knocking out la grippe, an old-timey phrase for the flu).

These products sold with varying degrees of success, but the best seller in the lineup of Richardson’s remedies was Vick’s Magic Croup Salve, which he introduced in 1894. And by all accounts, necessity was the key to its success.

“He had what they referred to as a croupy baby — a baby with a lot of coughing and congestion,” explains Richardson’s great-grandson, Britt Preyer of Greensboro. “So as a pharmacist, he began experimenting with menthols from Japan and some other ingredients, and he came up with this salve that really worked. That’s how it all started.”

Another version of the story suggests that all three of the Richardson children caught bad colds at the same time, and Richardson, dissatisfied with the traditional treatment of the day, which included poultices and a vapor lamp, spent hours at his pharmacy developing his own treatment.

Richardson’s salve — a strong-smelling ointment combining menthol, camphor, oil of eucalyptus, and several other oils, blended in a base of petroleum jelly — was a chest-soothing, cough-suppressing, head-clearing sensation. When the salve was rubbed on the patient’s chest, his or her body heat vaporized the menthol, releasing a wave of soothing, medicated vapors that the patient breathed directly into the lungs.

Vicks in the mailbox

In 1911, Richardson’s son Smith, by now a successful salesman for his father’s company, recommended discontinuing all of the company’s products except for Vick’s Magic Croup Salve. He believed the salve could sell even better if the company stopped investing time and money in the other, less successful remedies. He also suggested renaming the salve Vicks VapoRub, according to the company’s history timeline, to “help dramatize the product’s performance.” Richardson agreed, and a century later, the name’s still the same.

Meanwhile, Richardson intensified his marketing efforts by providing free goods to druggists who placed large orders and publishing coupons for free samples in newspapers. He also advertised on billboards and sent promotional mailings to post office boxes, addressed to Boxholder rather than the individual’s name, thus earning him the distinction of being the father of junk mail.

In 1925, Vicks even published a children’s book to help promote the product. The book told the story of two elves, Blix and Blee, who rescued a frazzled mother whose sick child refused to take nasty-tasting medicines. Their solution, of course, was the salve known as Vicks VapoRub.

Expanding and experimenting

As successful as the marketing campaign was, nothing sold Vicks VapoRub like the deadly Spanish flu outbreak that ravaged the nation in 1918 and 1919, killing hundreds of thousands of Americans. Loyal Vicks customers and new customers stocked up on the medicine to stave off or fight the disease.

According to the company’s history timeline, VapoRub sales skyrocketed from $900,000 to $2.9 million in a single year because of the pandemic. The Vicks plant in Greensboro operated around the clock, and salesmen were pulled off the road to help at the manufacturing facility in an effort to keep up with demand.

As the flu spread across the nation, Richardson grew ill with pneumonia in 1919 and died. Smith took over the company. Vicks continued to grow, buying other companies until Procter & Gamble bought it in the 1980s. Through the years, Vicks continued adding new products to its arsenal of cold remedies: cough drops, nose drops, inhalers, cough syrup, nasal spray, Formula 44, NyQuil. And whatever success those products attained, they got there standing on the broad shoulders of Richardson.

Richardson will never be a household name, but his salve has held that status for more than a century — and may do so for the next hundred years. And for Richardson, were he still around, that ought to be enough to clear his head.

A cure-all salve

Vicks users have claimed the salve can cure and heal many maladies. Even though Vicks doesn’t say the salve works for these problems, people still believe.

Toenail fungus: Rub the salve on your toenails, cover with socks, and sleep your fungus problems away. Cough: For a similar fix to a nagging cough, some believe rubbing Vicks on the soles of your feet can fix the problem. Dandruff: Rub Vicks directly on the scalp, and your flakes may just disappear. Chapped lips: Petroleum jelly is one of the ingredients in Vicks, and some say the ointment can help heal cracked lips. Mosquito bites: If you smooth Vicks on the red bumps on your legs and arms, it can supposedly take the itch right out. Warts: Dab Vicks on the wart, cover with duct tape, and it may fall off in a few days.

Greensboro Historical Museum 130 Summit Avenue Greensboro, N.C. 27401 (336) 373-2043 greensborohistory.org

See historical Vicks VapoRub bottles and learn about Lunsford Richardson.

[coochiequeens]

'There are wonderful surrogates but the system is also allowing ­others to take advantage.' Says a woman who exploited another woman

Twins? No, but this couple's baby boys were born just five months apart after a terrifying tale that raises grave questions about modern-day surrogacy

Cáhan and Cómhan Kilgannon look to the outside world like they are twins

But pair from County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland were born five  months apart 

Parents Kiara and Stevie conceived naturally just after using a surrogate mother 

By JENNY JOHNSTON FOR THE MAIL ON SUNDAY

PUBLISHED: 17:16 EST, 18 February 2023 | UPDATED: 17:16 EST, 18 February 2023 

Snug in their double buggy, peeking out with matching, adorable blue eyes, Cáhan and Cómhan Kilgannon look for all the world like twins as they enjoy a stroll with parents ­Stevie and Kiara.

'When we are out in shops, people assume they are twins,' says dad Stevie. 'When they were younger and the size difference between them more noticeable, we'd explain that there was actually five months between them.

'But you could see people doing the maths and getting confused.'

Cáhan (it means 'little battler' in Irish) is 15 months old, while his brother Cómhan (meaning 'twin') is ten months. 

And there is a fascinating and heartwarming reason for the age discrepancy. 

Biologically, Cáhan is Kiara's and Stevie's child, conceived through IVF using her egg and his sperm, and born via surrogacy after Kiara had been told she would never carry her own child.

The couple opted for an increasingly common surrogacy route – delighted to find a stranger who effectively offered them her womb. 

Stevie says: 'We explained it to family and friends as 'our bun, her oven'.'

Yet five months into the surrogate's pregnancy, the 'impossible' happened – Kiara became pregnant herself. Entirely naturally. 

'The doctors – we'd been to them all, even an expert in the US – said it simply wasn't possible for me to carry a child,' she explains. 

'When it happened, we couldn't believe our double miracle. The boys will be in the same class at school, so we have years ahead of having to explain why they appear to be twins, but aren't.'

At their home in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland, this couple's joy is palpable

So too, though, are more com­plicated feelings. It turns out their 'surrogacy journey' was anything but joyful. 

Indeed, they're speaking out today because they want to warn other couples – 'who may be as desperate as we were' – that the whole experience can push you to the edge.

The reality of their situation is that the relationship with their surrogate broke down during her pregnancy. 

They even feared she would abort their child. 

'It was a real worry – later confirmed when she posted on social media that she'd con­sidered a termination,' says Kiara. '

At another stage she threatened to keep our baby if a whole list of requests that had never been mentioned before were not met.'

It sounds as if everything that could go wrong with the surrogacy agreement – 'a piece of paper that is legal but not legally binding', says Stevie – did.

Petty disagreements, mostly about money, escalated to the point where they were consulting lawyers and trying to get mediation.

'In the process, she cut us off, blocked us from messaging her, refused to allow us to go to scans, which she'd previously said we could attend. 

'She told midwives and hospital staff – who deal with surrogacy arrangements all the time, and had been wonderful about making us feel part of it – not to include us.

'In the weeks coming up to the birth, we had moved over to England, where she lives, to be in place for the birth. Yet for that full four weeks we had no contact with her.

'We had no idea if she would even hand him over when he was born. We discovered – the hard way – that biological parents have no rights,' Stevie recalls.'

Kiara – pregnant during the latter stages of this delicate process – was distraught. 

'My pregnancy was deemed high-risk and the ­doctors said I must I avoid stress.

'But I could not have been more stressed. I thought I was going to lose both babies.'

It is very rare for a couple to be in this situation – and also uncommon for a couple who have had a 'successful' surrogacy journey to talk about the pitfalls. 

They can share their story now because, in December, a court granted them a Parental Order, giving them full legal res­ponsibility for Cáhan.

In any surrogacy situation, there is a period of some months when the intended parents are in a legal limbo. 

Although Stevie was even­tually named on Cáhan's initial birth certificate – they had no birth certificate at all for him for several months – Kiara was not, as the surrogate is always the mother, by law, until a Parental Order is granted.

Issues such as who is authorised to make medical decisions can be contentious – but in amicable surrogacy arrangements, these things can be agreed and made workable. 

The frustrations were made all the more difficult with two babies in the mix.

Kiara says: 'It meant we were in this ridiculous situation where I could get treatment for Cómhan, but with Cáhan, Stevie had to do everything.'

It has long been accepted that the law surrounding surrogacy in the UK, which has not been changed in 40 years, needs to be updated, but a much awaited review by the Law Commission has been delayed. 

Meanwhile, the number of couples using surrogates has quadrupled over the past ten years.

Commercial surrogacy is banned in the UK, but surrogates can be paid reasonable expenses, which Stevie and Kiara believe has 'led to commercial surrogacy under the table'. 

Stevie, who works in the justice system, says: 'It would be more transparent to allow commercial surrogacy because, as it stands, there are no rules about what constitutes reasonable expense. We came to feel we were cash cows.

'Our surrogate alerted us to a chipped windscreen on her car, and we paid for a replacement tyre. 

'She charged us £1 for an envelope to send a scan picture and refused to post it until the money was in her account. 

'It all got incredibly petty, but when we asked for documentation for expenses over the agreed figure, she cut contact.

'We discovered surrogates advise each other about how to push their expenses up. 

'One couple even paid for a gardener to mow their sur­rogate's lawn – then learned she had no grass. 

'Surrogates even discuss charging for slimming club memberships, spa treatments, even car valeting after vomiting in the car because of morning sickness.

'This is not about money – we paid our surrogate expenses of about £15,000 but we'd have paid much more from the off if the pro­cess had been fair. 

'Our point is that we felt held to ransom.

'There are wonderful surrogates but the system is also allowing ­others to take advantage.'

See rest of article

[darkmaga-returns]

Sanctuary cities have been pleading with the federal government for assistance as they cannot manage the sheer number of migrants appearing in their cities. The cities are unable to accommodate proper shelter or basic supplies for these newcomers, and the local healthcare systems have been overwhelmed. Despite the facts, sanctuary city mayors insist that they will not comply with Trump’s deportation.

Denver Mayor Mike Johnston said that Trump’s deportation would become a Tiananmen Square moment as the far-left will assemble to block law and order from restoring. “More than us having DPD stationed at the county line to keep them out, you would have 50,000 Denverites there,” Johnston told reporters. “It’s like the Tiananmen Square moment with the rose and the gun, right? You’d have every one of those Highland moms who came out for the migrants. And you don’t want to mess with them.”

Democratic Governor JB Pritzker of Illinois has said that he would block any deportation effort, personally. “If you come for my people, you come through me,” he boldly said. Countless members of the violent left have warned that civil unrest is imminent.

Newly-appointed Border Czar Tom Homan said he agrees with these Democrats on one thing – they’re willing to go to jail and he’s willing to arrest them on felony convictions.

[dertaglichedan]

Denver mayor threatens to deploy cops, 50K residents in ‘Tiananmen Square moment’ to stop Trump’s mass deportations

Denver’s mayor has vowed to shield migrants in his sanctuary city from mass deportation by using local cops and 50,000 residents “stationed at the county line” — calling it a “Tiananmen Square moment.”

“More than us having [federal agents] stationed at the county line to keep them out, you would have 50,000 Denverites there,” Democratic Mayor Mike Johnston recently told the outlet Denverite — after President-elect Donald Trump vowed to undertake mass deportations of illegal migrants across the US.

“It’s like the Tiananmen Square moment … right?” said Johnston, referring to the famous caught-on-video showdown between a Chinese student and government tank in Tiananmen Square in China during the 1989 rebellion there.

“You’d have every one of those Highland moms who came out for the migrants. And you do not want to mess with them,” the mayor said of Denver residents apparently prepared to go to the mat against the federal government.

Roughly 40,000 migrants have flocked to the Mile High City since December 2022 — the largest number of new arrivals per capita across the nation.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

The Bell Witch Haunting

In the early 1800s, John Bell moved his family from North Carolina to the Red River bottomland in Robertson County, Tennessee, settling in the Red River community, which later became the present-day Adams, Tennessee.  Bell purchased some land and a large house for his family. 

One day in 1817, John Bell was inspecting his corn field when he encountered a strange-looking animal sitting in the middle of a corn row. Shocked by the appearance of this animal, which had the body of a dog and the head of a rabbit, Bell shot several times. The animal vanished. This was the first documented manifestation of the entity. Bell thought nothing more of the incident, at least not until after dinner. That evening, the family began hearing "beating" sounds on the outside walls of their log home.

The mysterious sounds continued with increased frequency and force each night. Bell and his sons often hurried outside to catch the culprit but always returned empty-handed.  In the weeks that followed, the Bell children began waking up frightened, complaining that rats were gnawing at their bedposts. Not long after that, the children began complaining of having having their bed covers pulled from them and their pillows tossed onto the floor by a seemingly invisible entity.

As time went on, the Bells began hearing faint, whispering voices, which too weak to understand but sounded like a feeble old woman singing hymns. The encounters escalated, and the Bells’ youngest daughter, Betsy Bell, began experiencing brutal encounters with the invisible entity. It would pull her hair and slap her relentlessly, often leaving welts and hand prints on her face and body.  The disturbances, about which John Bell had vowed his family to secret, finally escalated to the point that he shared his "family trouble" with his closest friend and neighbor, James Johnston.

Sceptical at first, Johnston and his wife spent the night at the Bell home. Things began peacefully, but once they retired for the evening, they were subjected to the same terrifying disturbances that the Bells had been experiencing. After their bedcovers were yanked off and James was slapped, he sprang out of bed, exclaiming, "In the name of the Lord, who are you and what do you want!" The entity did not respond; the rest of the night was peaceful. The next morning, Mr. Johnston explained to the Bells that the culprit was likely an "evil spirit, the kind that the Bible talks about." The entity's voice strengthened over time and became loud and unmistakable. It sang hymns, quoted scripture, carried on intelligent conversation, and once even quoted, word-for-word, two sermons that were preached at the same time on the same day, thirteen miles apart. 

The spirit grew stronger and more aggressive over time, particularly picking on John Bell claiming to want to kill him. Bell had been experiencing episodes of twitching in his face and difficulty swallowing for almost a year, and the malady grew worse with time. By the fall of 1820, his declining health had confined him to the house, where the malicious entity continuously removed his shoes when he tried to walk, and slapped his face when he recovered from his numerous seizures. Her shrill voice was heard all over the farm, cursing and chastising "Old Jack Bell," the nickname she had given him. John Bell breathed his last breath on the morning of December 20, 1820, after slipping into a coma a day earlier. Immediately after his death, his family found a vial of strange black liquid in the cupboard. John, Jr. sprinkled two drops on the cat's tongue. The cat jumped up into the air, rolled over in mid air, and was dead when it hit the floor. The entity then exclaimed, "I gave Ol' Jack a big dose of that last night, which fixed him!" John, Jr. tossed the mysterious vial into the fireplace. It burst into a bright blue flame and shot up the chimney.

John Bell's funeral was one of the largest ever held in Robertson County, Tennessee. People attended from miles away, and three preachers (two Methodist, and one Baptist) eulogized him. As the crowd of mourners began leaving the graveyard, the Bell Witch entity laughed and sang a song about a bottle of brandy. Her fervent singing didn't stop until the last mourner had left the graveyard. The entity's presence was almost non-existent after John Bell's demise, as though it had fulfilled its purpose.

[shefanispeculator]

For the second time in less than a year, patrons at Blake Shelton's Ole Red Tishomingo witnessed the concert debut of one of his teenage stepsons.

Zuma Rossdale, 15 — the middle of three sons Shelton's wife, pop icon Gwen Stefani, shares with her ex-husband, rocker Gavin Rossdale — played his first public performance Monday, July 29 at Ole Red Tishomingo.

Zuma, who will turn 16 on Aug. 21, covered two songs by up-and-coming Oklahoma country music superstar Zach Bryan during the short acoustic set at his stepfather's hometown restaurant, bar and venue.

"I had no idea that he was going to come out ... and sing until Blake started talking," said concertgoer Jamie McGaugh, a devoted Shelton fan from Coalgate. 

"He did mention Kingston, and he said Kingston's influence was Gwen, but Zuma's influence was him — and he was all proud about that."

Zuma Rossdale follows brother Kingston in making his debut at Ole Red Tishomingo

An Ada native, Shelton, 48, made Tishomingo his adopted hometown several years ago, and he opened the first location in his Ole Red bar and restaurant chain there in 2017. The eight-time Grammy nominee is known to occasionally perform at his Johnston County hot spot.

Shelton and Stefani, 54, started dating in 2015 after they met when they were both working as coaches on the hit NBC series "The Voice." The couple live on the sprawling Ten Point Ranch near Tishomingo, where they wed on July 3, 2021.

Last August, Kingston, then 17, played his first public set inside The Doghouse music hall at Ole Red Tishomingo, performing a series of original alternative-rock songs. An encouraging Oklahoma audience of about 400 music lovers witnessed his debut, including McGaugh, and her mother, Lanell Eclair, also of Coalgate.

Which Zach Bryan songs did Zuma Rossdale play at his debut concert in Oklahoma?

For his debut at Ole Red, Zuma performed a more low-key and down-home show. At about 3 p.m. Monday, Shelton posted on X that he was planning to stop by Ole Red Tishomingo at about 5 p.m. that same day.

"I’m coming by to grab some food and thought I’d hop up and play 3 or 4 songs," he posted on the social media site.

McGaugh barely had time to drive from her Atoka workplace back to Coalgate, collect her mom and her daughter, Mazie McGaugh, and get over to Tishomingo. With the short notice, she said Shelton took the stage in the Ole Red restaurant, rather than the Doghouse music hall, for about 100 fans, mostly locals.

"We made pretty good time. It did dawn on me the other day ... 'He wasn't popped up at Tish in a while; I'd better be on alert because he may be gonna do that, because he does it once or twice a year.' You never know about him. But I never dreamed about it being on a Monday night," she said.

"I was shocked when he walked out. I was taken aback ... because I was like, 'Wait, he never has on a cowboy hat."

Along with the white hat, Shelton took the Ole Red stage in a blue plaid shirt, blue jeans and boots, to perform "Playboys of the Southwestern World," a fan-favorite song he dedicated to his youngest stepson, Apollo. Stefani and Apollo watched the show at a table alongside the pop star's sister-in-law, niece and nephews. Both the boys wore cowboy, hats, too, McGaugh said.

Shelton played "Pour Me a Drink," his new duet with Post Malone, solo before introducing Zuma. The teen took the stage dressed in a pale striped button-down shirt, blue jeans, brown boots and a black cowboy hat and carrying an acoustic guitar.

"This is Zuma, everybody," Shelton said, as the crowd cheered appreciatively.

"How y'all doing?" the teen drawled as he settled on a tall stool.

"Get the microphone where they can hear it," Shelton coached, adjusting the microphones for Zuma.

Strumming his guitar, Zuma sang solo on two popular songs by Bryan: "Oklahoma Smokeshow" and "Revival."

Everybody was excited. I think everybody was very open with Kingston. But this was more of the vibe that's over there, the country music. It seemed like everybody knew everything, and it was very shocking how good his voice was. I had no idea. He was very good," McGaugh said.

After earning rousing applause for his two-song set, Zuma yielded the stage back to Shelton, who closed the half-hour acoustic show with his signature song, "Ol' Red."

A Shelton super-fan. McGaugh said she's thrilled that she's now seen both Kingston and Zuma give their first public performances.

"I think those kids love it over here ... and everybody over here loves Gwen and her boys. They really do. I haven't ran into one person that said that they didn't like them, or that they weren't nice," she said

[handeaux]

Desperate Boozehounds Eyed Cincinnati’s Cornerstones Thirstily During Prohibition

Have you excavated any cornerstones lately?

As Prohibition slithered through the 1920s, Cincinnati’s landmark buildings faced a serious threat from cornerstone thieves. With the legal sale of alcohol no longer an option and bootlegging growing dicier by the day, a lot of old-timers remembered that it was once customary to plunk a bottle of booze into the cornerstone of a new building.

Cincinnati’s beer taps had hardly been stoppered before the barflies started hunting for easily accessible cornerstones. According to the Cincinnati Post [16 January 1920] they weren’t having much luck.

“Cornerstones in Cincinnati buildings have attracted an interest traceable to Prohibition. Recollection of a reported custom in ‘the good old days�� of putting a quart of good booze in some cornerstones, along with newspapers, coins, stamps and other things, is the reason. But diligent search so far has failed to uncover any clew. There are plenty of cornerstones, but the owners of all the buildings deny there is any liquor in them.”

Perhaps the building owners protested too much. They certainly didn’t want to find a chunk of their façade missing because some lush got curious. Strangely, some of the local experts denied that cornerstone liquor was ever a thing. Judge John Caldwell told the Post:

“A man would have been foolish to put good liquor he could drink himself into a stone for the benefit of somebody he would never see.”

County Clerk Fred Wesselmann argued the same point from the opposite direction.

“Booze was so common 75 or 100 years ago, that probably no one thought of putting it away as a curiosity for future generations.”

Up in Montgomery, Ohio, however, village historian William Swaim claimed that the cornerstone of the landmark Universalist Church (with the brick pillars) contained a quart of liquor. Or maybe, he averred, it was only a pint. Whether Mr. Swaim was correct or not remains a matter of conjecture, because no one has excavated the cornerstone to check. Yet.

The “History of Montgomery, Ohio” edited by Mary Lou Rose for that city’s 1995 bicentennial, recounts the liquor rumor, but suggests the hootch is ensconced in one of the pillars, not the cornerstone.

“These four round brick pillars have a greater circumference at the bottom than at the top, and stories have been told that one pillar holds a bottle of whiskey.”

J. Stacey Hill, president of the Gibson Hotel Company, energetically pooh-poohed the idea that a bottle of anything was hidden in the “century box” incorporated into a lobby pillar in 1913. His denials were supported two years later as workmen demolished the neighboring Johnston Building to make way for a Gibson Hotel expansion. A laborer sank his pick into a hollow stone several feet below the pavement. Inside the stone was a large box made of zinc. The box was hauled up for examination and found to contain an Enquirer from 1875, a May Festival program, a handful of coins and a dossier full of facts about the now-demolished building. But no liquor.

At about the same time, according to the Commercial Tribune [16 June 1922] a demolition team in Covington also came up dry:

“Workmen tearing down the old Parker Building, East Pike street, to prepare a site for the new Covington Theater, are looking for treasure. A quart of whisky. The liquor has been buried in the cornerstone of the old building for nearly forty years. It is said, the liquor was nine years old when placed in the cornerstone. Ben Vastine, contractor, kept a close watch on the workmen to avert the possibility of one of them finding it and converting it to his own use. The liquor had not been found at quitting time.”

With all these dry runs, how did rumors about immured booze get started anyway? It appears that alcoholic cornerstones, although uncommon, were actually a thing. Over in nearby Vernon, Indiana, the local high school yielded a quart of whiskey when it was demolished in 1927. The bottle rested serenely next to an old Bible and the usual miscellany of newspapers and coins. All of the discovered contents were allegedly reinterred in the cornerstone of the new high school erected on the same site.

Up in Hamilton, Ohio, back in 1907, the Globe Opera House produced a bottle of whiskey when the cornerstone was moved during remodeling. That bottle was cradled in a stack of Hamilton and Cincinnati newspapers dating from the 1860s. The wrecking crew drank it.

In other words, the thirsty souls eying the downtown cornerstones weren’t totally off the mark. It’s just a good thing they didn’t expand their research beyond cornerstones. Heaven knows what would have happened if they learned about Samuel Behymer over in Withamsville. His last wishes might have inspired grave robbing. According to the Cincinnati Post [14 October 1978]:

“Samuel Behymer, who had been a part of the Ten Mile Baptist Church, became the first man to be buried in the cemetery. On his death bed, he had requested that he be buried with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a plug of tobacco in the other. ‘You see,’ he explained, ‘I only got two sins. One of them is terbaccy and the other is whiskey so when I go through them pearly gates I want to be honest and have one of them in each hand.’ So they buried him with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a plug of tobacco in the other.”

Although most of the memorialized whiskey dated from the mid-1800s or earlier, as late as 1902, builders were still asking clients whether they wanted to set aside a bottle for posterity. In that year, Garry Herrmann, one of Boss Cox’s lieutenants and President of the Cincinnati Water Works Commission, reviewed plans for the city’s new Western Pumping Station. That building had a perfectly round footprint, so Herrmann decreed that there would be no cornerstone in a building that lacked corners. The Cincinnati Post [3 November 1902] predicted future frustration:

“As a compromise with sentiment, a bronze tablet, like on a burial vault, will grace the building when finished, and in 2082, when it is razed to make room for more skyscrapers, the workmen will look in vain for a cornerstone with a pint bottle of 1902 whisky concealed in it.”

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On Nov 6 1972, Cdr. Tolbert flew an A-7 Corsair II off USS Midway & was hit by AA fire over N. Vietnam. Turning for the coast, he was unable to eject & the aircraft hit the ground. His remains were returned on Nov. 3 1988. He's buried at Troy Cemetery in Johnston County, OK. 4/5

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Note: That doesn’t mean the bellybutton academy…….

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Greek Revival Home-Johnston, South Carolina

Built in 1910 by M. Turner Toney, this home is a contributing property to the Johnston Historic District.