Gettin' in Trouble at the Stateline Motel, Gas Station, Dance Hall and Bar

The first gas station and motel that Daddy Fox owned was called the Stateline Motel outside of Guthrie, Kentucky. It was a quick drive south on state highway 79 almost to the Tennessee line. Growing up in the late 50s and early 60s I had been to the Stateline Motel many times and I stayed with Daddy Fox and Miz Burchett in a small house next to the station. There was a small 8 room motel on the property but it never seemed to do much business so I didn’t pay much attention. I was much more interested in the gas station and all its delights, especially food and pinball!

The station was a typical 60s design with two gas pumps labeled “Regular” and “Premium”, and a covered roof leading back to a large building that held a bar, game room, and dance floor.

It was air-conditioned and dark when you first entered and as you walked in the first thing that caught your eye was the long counter that stretched across the whole width of the room, except for a small opening on the right for the attendant to get behind the bar-like counter. Directly behind this opening was a large cooler that opened like a chest freezer and held just about every type of beer that was popular at the time. Schlitz, Papst Blue Ribbon, of course, Budweiser, and several others that ranged in price from very cheap to pretty good depending on how much you were willing to spend. To the left of the beer cooler was another smaller cooler similar in design that held soft drinks like Coke, Pepsi, Royal Crown Cola, Nehi Orange, and Grape and Root Beer. To the right of the cooler was a cigarette rack that offered many different brands, but mainly Marlboro, Winston, Camel, Lucky Strike, and Newport. My parents smoked Newport and I am lucky to be alive with all the second-hand smoke that filled our house through the years.

If you looked to your left when you entered you would see a huge room that Daddy Fox had built to hold dances on Friday and Saturday nights. It had a wooden floor and a jukebox in one corner of the room. This room would fill up on the weekends and it was a fun place to drink and dance and get in a fight. Fighting was normal and expected so Daddy Fox would patrol the room and make sure anyone who got into an argument would take it outside. Since he was a big man with strong arms and hands he could pick up most men and just throw them out if necessary. But that was rare as most people knew him and tried to avoid pissing him off too much because they knew he carried a .32 revolver in his pants pocket.

Daddy Fox once told me that he only owned revolvers because they were so simple and reliable guns to use in a fight. No safety to worry about, no cocking the slide back to load a shell, and easy to pull out and start pulling the trigger. It was known as a “wheel gun” and came in different calibers from the smallest at .22 up to a .44 Magnum. Daddy Fox favored a .32 because it was small and easy to carry in a pocket or glove box in the car. He usually had at least 3 guns in his car, one under the front seat, one in the glovebox, and of course the one in his pants pocket.

Like most boys growing up in the 60s in the South, I had experience with guns. I owned a .22 rifle that I used for target practice when we lived out in the country in Frankfort during my teen years. I also had a 12 gauge Browning shotgun that I used for rabbit and squirrel hunting on the farmland around our house, along with my best friend, Brownie, a light tan and white Beagle hound.

My father had a .38 blue steel revolver “hidden” on the top shelf of his closet. I stole it several times and shot it in the backyard when I was home alone. He kept a box of bullets next to the gun that was in the original cardboard box. I gambled that he never bothered to count the bullets left in the box and through the years he never found out I was stealing his gun and learning how to shoot.

Moving across the room to the right there was a door that led to a small room with a couple of pinball machines.

In the back to the right was a door that led to a storeroom filled with cases of beer, cigarettes, and snacks like crackers, peanuts, and candy bars. Some shelves were stacked full of boxed saltine crackers, to go with the delicious jars of pickled sausage, pickled eggs, and pickled pigs feet that lined the bar.

I can't begin to describe what a wonderful place this was to an 11-year-old boy who snuck quietly in the door in the afternoon and took a seat on one of the wooden stools that lined the bar.

Most of the time either Bill or Bob Burchett was behind the bar or sometimes both if things got busy. One to wait on customers for gas and oil and the other to tend bar. There was an old radio on a shelf that was playing country music.

I remember how cold it was in the building after coming in from the July heat in southern Kentucky.

Bob looked up from his stool behind the bar, "Hey, Trent, what can I get ya? How about a cold beer."

"Haha, Bob, no just an RC and one of those sausages and some crackers. And maybe a pack of peanuts for later.

As Bob moved to the large cooler he said, “So, Trent what kind of trouble are ya gettin' into this summer. I remember last year ya got into some deep shit over the 4th with those fireworks."

Every year Daddy Fox brought in a large trailer to sell fireworks over the 4th of July.

Grinning back at Bob I said, "Yeah, that was pretty funny, putting 4 Cherry Bombs tied together under that 55-gallon drum down by the pond. That was me and my cousin, Steve. He was the one who came up with the idea. We just didn't realize how powerful that blast was gonna be.”

Bob laughed, “Yeah, I remember Bill telling me about working that day and watching you two get the key to the fireworks trailer and then walk down to the pond. He thought you were just gonna throw some Cherry Bombs into the pond and kill some frogs or turtles. But no, you idiots turned that trash barrel over and stuck them bombs under it, lit’m and ran back up to the station. Bill said you could hear that blast all the way to Clarksville. And that damn barrel flew through the air and landed smack dab in the middle of that pond and sank to the bottom. We all thought Daddy Fox was gonna whip both your asses when he got back and heard what happened."

I laughed, "Yeah, we did too and hid behind the station when we saw him drive up and Bill come running over to tell him what we did. Bill couldn't wait to rat us out and get us in trouble. Steve and I watched as Bill waved his arms and did his best to make it sound like we had just started WWIII."

"Man, I was sure surprised when Bill told me that your grandfather just busted out laughing, patted Bill on the shoulder, and told him to go on back to work."

Remembering how scared we were that day I replied, “Yeah, well we came creeping in the house later and Miz Burchett saw us and started laughing and told us Daddy Fox just called us a couple of idiots and said we were lucky we didn't blow up something important or get ourselves hurt or killed."

Bob just grinned and said, “Yeah, well, he just liked you both so much and enjoyed having you here that you could do no wrong in his eyes. My daddy would have whupped my ass to kingdom come if I'd blowed up anything like that. You two were the little Princes, I guess."

Bob may have been right that Daddy Fox let me and Steve get away with murder during the summer visits. Steve's dad, my Uncle Rodney, was Daddy Fox's accountant and took care of all the books for every business that his father owned in Guthrie. Rodney and Steve lived in a small town just across the border in Tennessee and Rodney worked as an accountant for the huge Ford plant in Nashville. Steve would come with his dad on the weekends when I was down so that Rodney could check on the business and update the books for Daddy Fox.

During those summers when I was just down for a visit it would usually be for just a few days and I would stay in a small house next to the gas station with Daddy Fox and Miz Burchett. I would stay in a small room just down the hall from their bedroom and I can still remember the smell of that house, a mixture of cigarette smoke, cooking odors, and just a kind of an old people smell that was not unpleasant and felt warm and cozy.

I guess Daddy Fox did like me and enjoyed my time with him. When we would drive up and I got out of the car, Daddy Fox would always pick me up and give me a huge hug and a big smile and say, "Well, boy I wonder how much trouble you're gonna get in this trip.”

As I grew older and planned to work for Daddy Fox during the summers I expected it to be at the Stateline Motel but a few years later Daddy Fox and Miz Burchett moved to the motel on Highway 41 and I worked at the gas station there. It was much smaller than the one at Stateline and there was not as much to do but I came to love it there and made many friends.