Hogskin County

                               Hogskin County

            It seems columnists, and I’m one of them, like to write about people and places. So this week the name out of the hat is Hogskin County. Well, if you’re not from L. A. (Lower Arkansas) you probably don’t have a clue about Hogskin County, so let me enlighten you. Back in the early settlement days of the state, Hogskin County had some bad hombres, and as the story goes, they would come over to Union County and rustle hogs. Well, the hog rustlers, would shoot the hogs, and running from the law, would haul them back across the Ouachita River to skin and dress them. So, I think you get my drift. That’s when we Union County folks started calling Calhoun County, ****Hog Skinning County, which became Hogskin County. Well, associating Calhoun County with hog rustling is a touchy subject over across the river, so in this column, I’m going to go with Calhoun.

            But Calhoun County is more than a place where hog rustlers hightailed it to in order to escape the law in Union County, and skin their swiped hogs. Actually, I’ve spent a lot of days in the County, and it’s high on my list of favorite Arkansas places to visit, and I’m not a hog rustler. Two of my top places to fish and hunt are in Hogskin…opps, Calhoun County, and I have spent many hours paddling up Champanolle Creek weaving around big cypress trees, flipping a cricket in a fishy looking spot. Champanolle Creek is truly one of the hidden gems that lives up to the Natural State moto.  The first time I fished at Cooks Lake, which is just a wide spot in the creek, I remember asking the old feller who was running the boat camp, “Where’s the Lake?”

 “Son, you’s a-looking at it.”

‘Uh, well that’s the creek,” I replied.

“Well son, guess the folks who named it couldn’t tell a creek from a lake.”

I would rent a boat at what was called Cooks Lake Landing at Champanolle Creek, and after pushing off and paddling for 50 yards or so, I slowly drifted into total solitude. Most of the time I wouldn’t see or hear anything but sounds of nature. Years later, I can still visualize my boat moving slowly up the creek. The other fishing spot I frequented was Long Lake, which is fairly close to Cooks Lake, but across the creek, which entailed a circle of five miles to reach the lake, a bend cutoff of the creek. But there was a lot more than fishing in Champanolle Creek or Long Lake that kept me coming back.

 Champanolle Creek and the cotton fields near the Creek drew me back time after time because the area around the so called lake and creek was once a large Indian village, and based on my finding, it was one of the largest villages in south Arkansas. I spent hours walking the cotton field rows picking up arrowheads, and I remember finding 23 perfect ones in one afternoon. On another trip I found, washed out on the bank of the creek, a perfect flint knife. The camp was a pre-Caddo tribe because of the absence of pottery and the presence of a large mound called Boones Mound.  Supposedly, either Daniel Boone or one of his son’s camped on the mound.

However, all my Calhoun County memories aren’t rosy. After a big spring rain, I headed for Cooks Lake to hunt arrowheads, and just before I got there I had to drive across a slough that had backed up from the big rain. The jeep, my dad had bought me when I was a senior, flooded out, and I had to wade out and hitchhike home. When my dad and I returned the next morning only the top of the jeep was above water. I had to swim out to tie the pullout chain on the bumper. We drained the oil and gasoline, but it never ran the same.

Of course, there’s more to Calhoun County than good places to hunt, fish, and look for arrowheads. It’s the former home of the Minkeye Saloon. Of course, with a name like that there is a story behind it. Back in 1902 an OK Corral type gunfight took place on the courthouse square in downtown El Dorado. There were three killed and three wounded; the same as the OK Corral Gunfight in Tombstone. City Marshal James Guy Tucker, who was wounded in the gunfight, recovered and continued as Marshal.

A year after the gunfight, Marshal Tucker met another Parnell brother on Main Street, and after what was described as a heated argument, Marshal Tucker pulled his gun and shot him. He was tried for murder, but acquitted. Said he thought the Parnell brother, who was unarmed, was reaching for a gun. However, he lost his job as City Marshal and moved across the Ouachita River from Champanolle Landing and ran the Minkeye Salon. We assume the Minkeye was a rather shabby added on log cabin, which served hog rustlers, riverboat passengers, and featured the same riverboat whisky, a golden tequila called El Dorado Tequila, the namesake of the town.

However, the feud caught up with the former marshal when he and his son crossed the Ouachita River on horseback to get their mail at Champanolle Landing. Before the locks, the river could be waded across during the summer. After picking up the mail, he was ambushed and severely wounded but his son proudly proclaimed, “I’ve still got all the mail, daddy.” Marshal Tucker lost an arm, and decided to leave south Arkansas. He moved to Little Rock and was elected to several public offices. His grandson is former governor Jim Guy Tucker. Today, the Minkeye lives on in downtown El Dorado, as The Minkeye, An Arkansaw Pub. The Gunfight on the Square is re-enacted several times each summer and former Governor Tucker has frequently attended. One of the last times he was in town, he walked into the Minkeye, slammed his hand down on the bar and yelled, “Gimme a whisky!”

Several decades back the state put the population rank of each county on everyone’s license plate. Little Rock legislators are suspect for wanting to have a # 1 on their license plates. Of course, Calhoun County was number 75. I guess that’s not all bad, since they have been keeping social distancing since the 1860s, and they have 0 coronavirus cases. With only a little more than 5000 people in the county, that’s 10 people per square mile. Well, we may see some of the rich and famous folks start leaving New York City flocking to Hogskin County, (sorry that just slipped out)   to get away from the virus hot spots

I remember Calhoun County rather vividly from when I was in school at the University.  I would ride to south Arkansas with my roommate who was from Banks, and when he turned toward Banks, he would let me off at Jack’s Liquor store in downtown Hampton. Vertis would drive over from Smackover to meet me, and sometimes we would get nearly back to El Dorado before we would stop to talk,