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1991-04-02 Interview with Adron Doran, April 2, 1991 Leg001:1991OH90LEG28 01:26:33 Kentucky Legislature Oral History Project Louie B. Nunn Center for Oral History, University of Kentucky Libraries Legislators -- Kentucky -- Interviews. Agriculture -- Kentucky -- Graves County. Race discrimination -- Kentucky. Ku Klux Klan (1915- ) -- Kentucky. Graves County (Ky.) -- Social life and customs. Graves County (Ky.) agriculture tobacco farms Klu Klux Klan Murray State University one room schools Term/District: House (1944-1947; 1950), 3rd district Leadership Position(s): House Speaker, 1950 Counties in District: Graves County (Ky.) Adron Doran; interviewee Jeffrey Suchanek; interviewer 1991OH090_LEG028_Doran 1:|14(3)|22(8)|34(9)|42(7)|55(1)|64(10)|72(10)|88(5)|102(15)|111(6)|123(1)|135(3)|142(12)|156(16)|163(14)|171(10)|180(9)|195(9)|203(18)|216(3)|235(11)|243(12)|256(10)|263(14)|288(10)|299(8)|310(11)|318(3)|332(8)|339(15)|351(8)|359(12)|368(16)|383(15)|390(3)|398(8)|409(14)|417(8)|429(12)|438(6)|450(2)|456(19)|467(13)|475(11)|491(8)|513(10)|523(11)|535(4)|545(7)|553(2)|563(2)|572(13)|584(17)|594(1)|613(3)|623(15)|638(14)|646(9)|657(6)|665(11)|681(3)|708(4)|727(5)|739(3)|748(2)|760(6)|769(8)|778(4)|794(6)|803(10)|814(5)|826(4)|837(16)|846(8)|859(8)|872(7)|882(10)|894(6)|905(9)|920(8)|931(11)|940(11)|951(8)|960(1)|967(1)|980(10) audiotrans Legit interview SUCHANEK: The following is an unrehearsed interview with former state representative Adron Doran, who represented Graves County in the 3rd District from 1944 to 1947, and then again in 1950. Dr. Doran served as Speaker of the House in the Kentucky General Assembly during the 1950 session, and later served as president of Morehead State University from 1954 to 1977. The interview was conducted by Jeffrey Suchanek for the University of Kentucky Library Kentucky Legislature Oral History Project on April 2, 1991 at two o'clock p.m. [Pause in tape]. This afternoon I'm talking with Dr. Adron Doran. Dr. Doran, I know that you've been interviewed before for other oral history projects, but I wonder if we might just begin today and talk a little bit about your background for this project. I think some of the questions may be a little different than you've been asked before, and it relates directly to our legislature project. First of all, could you tell me again when and where you were born? DORAN: Well, I was born in a little village on the state line between Kentucky and Tennessee, and between the counties of Graves, in Kentucky, and Weakley in Tennessee, named Boydsville. And, we grew up in that community. I was born on September 1, 1909. And there were six boys in the family, and we grew up as an ordinary subsistent farm family did. I went to elementary school in that community, and then I went to, we moved to Cuba in the south part of Graves County for me to go to high school, or for all of us to go to high school, but two of the older boys were already out of school, and both of them were married by that time, and so I was the first of the family to go to high school. And, then when I graduated from high school after three and a half years, I enrolled at Freed Hardeman College, a junior college down in Henderson, Tennessee. Spent two years there and then transferred to Murray State teacher's college, it was then, in 1930, and spent two years at Murray, and got a teaching certificate and went to teaching. And then went back intermittently to do my master's degree in 1948, and then we came to the University of Kentucky for me to do my doctorate in 1950. SUCHANEK: Okay. What were your parents' names, and what did they do for a living? DORAN: Well, my father's name was Edward Conway, and my mother's name was Mary Elizabeth. Now, there's a little sidelight story connected with that. The old doctor that delivered all of us at home, of course, none of us had ever been in a hospital at that time, we were forty miles away from Mayfield, or a hospital, so the old Doctor Donahue would come home to our home and deliver the boys. And so when he delivered me, he sent in the birth certificate said, "a boy delivered to Ed and Lizzie Doran." Well, the legal authorities, of course, would not take that kind of a birth certificate, so we had to go to county court and get my name entered on the birth certificate and got my father's name changed to Edward instead of Ed, and my mother's name changed to Elizabeth instead of Lizzie (Suchanek laughs). Those were days of yore, Jeff, as you, as you know, and records were rather crudely kept at that time, but we had to get the court to declare me having been born, because you know, now, and since that time, you have a more difficult time proving that you were born than you do in proving that you're living, you know (bot laugh). SUCHANEK: Well, it depends on if a computer gets a hold of your name and says you're dead. DORAN: Well, my name, my mother gave me the name A-D-R-O-N, and if you notice it, the same letters in my first name that are in my last name. And, a lot of people ask me, I've been the subject of a news column comment on it, whether my last name was scrambled to make my first name, and I answered, my mother was not too impressed with this answer, that there were just so many in the family, and they'd used up all of the names that they knew, so they just scrambled the name and made Adron out of it, but she said it wasn't so. She read a story one time, that the hero of that story was named Adron, and so she called me, her third son, Adron (Suchanek laughs). SUCHANEK: That's interesting. Do you remember your grandparents at all? DORAN: No, I never, I knew my dad's mother, but my father's father died before any of us were born. He he died early. I remember my mother's father, but I don't remember her mother's mother. Now, my paternal grandmother, never did marry after her husband died, but my maternal grandfather did marry after his first wife died. And I don't know, seems to me that my mother said that my step-mother was named Glass, but I remember we always called her Miss Ellie, and I suspect her name was Ellen, and I guess she was Ellen Glass, but those names were always perverted, you know, and I remember her as a very lovely person. And she died, and then my grandfather lived with my parents when we were growing up, and he grew, lived to be a ripe old age of some ninety. And I remember when he died, I don't remember when my paternal grandmother died, but when my maternal grandfather died, I spoke at his funeral. We had, the family had planned for Mr. Henry Canter, who was the mail carrier on this rural route that we were on, they had planned for him to stop at the little church and speak at my grandfather's funeral. But, it was in December and the roads were terribly bad, and we had to take him to the little church, and to the cemetery in a wagon, mule drawn wagon, so Mr. Canter couldn't make his mail route that day, and my mother said, "well, we must have some sort of service," and, "Adron, you make a speech." And I did (both laugh). SUCHANEK: You ad-libbed it? DORAN: I don't remember what I talked about, but I guess it talked about grandpa, lessons I'd learned from grandpa or something. SUCHANEK: Yeah, yeah. Were they farmers? DORAN: Yes, we were all farmers. My father's people came from North Carolina and settled in Henry County, Tennessee, and that's just across the border, state border line from Graves County, Kentucky, and that's where the whole family settled. Now, my mother's family came from Iuka, Mississippi to Graves County when she was eleven months old, and that was a long trek from Mississippi to Graves County, and they settled at Fancy Farm, which is a community near Mayfield. And from that we spread out in that area, that region. SUCHANEK: Okay. Did your mother ever work outside the home? DORAN: No, she had her hands full with six boys, one of the boys who was the oldest one died when he was two years old. And- SUCHANEK: What did he die from, do you know? DORAN: Well, that's back during the days that they call the second summer. The crucial period, the doctor's did, on children, and if they made it through the second summer, they were pretty apt to live a normal life. But they had what they, some children had what the medical profession called summer complaints, and I suspect it was some kind of intestinal disorder of diarrhea or such, and they didn't know how to treat it. So he died in his second summer, and so five others came on then, and she had a pretty hard time of keeping five boys fed, and clothed, and sheltered, and ready for school, and my father and mother always were interested in our going to school, that was of paramount importance. It was seldom that any emergency ever arose that we had to work on the farm that we couldn't go to school. And, so my mother never did anything except take care of the family, and she was the maternal influence in this family of boys. I always regretted that we didn't have a sister, because I think a mixed family is far more responsive to one another throughout their lives than a family of all girls, or all boys. Girls need to know how to get along with boys before they marry one, and boys need to learn how to get along with girls before they marry one, you know. SUCHANEK: So, you had other relatives then that lived in Henry County, Tennessee? DORAN: Yes, all of, my father had a large family, and my mother had a large family, and so they all lived in that area, in that community, and one of the sidelights of my family's connections, both father and mother's families, my mother and her sister, and one of her brothers married my father's sister and two of his brothers. So there were three in the Clemens family, which my mother was, that married three in the Doran family. Now, I always account for that in a facetious sort of fashion, that the families lived close together and they didn't know anybody except the Clemens's knew the Doran's, and they went to school together, they went to church together, and when they learned to play post office, there wasn't anybody else to play post office except with one another. And so when they got ready to marry, the Doran men married the Clemens women, and the Clemens men married the Doran women. SUCHANEK: That's interesting. DORAN: We lived in a rather isolated section of western Kentucky, which is no longer isolated now, but because of roads and conditions that existed eighty years ago, you know, you didn't have much communication. We went to the county seat of Mayfield when we had farm products to market, particularly tobacco, it's the dark fired tobacco country down there, and we'd take the tobacco once a year to sell, and that time we'd buy a barrel of flour, and a sack of sugar, and a sack of meal, and all those things that we couldn't get at the little gristmill near us. But in most cases we would take our corn and wheat to this little gristmill that had been built on Obion River down there, and get it ground up. But we, as usual farmers at that time would do, our purchase of clothing and staples and all were, those purchasing were done about once a year. SUCHANEK: Um-hm, um-hm. Did you have a general store? Or- DORAN: I had a general store there in Boydsville. A Mr. Williams ran the store, and he was sort of advisor, and counselor to everybody in the community, you know. And usually he, when we ran out of cash, he would keep a ledger, and we'd buy some stuff, and then when we'd sell our products, we'd go and pay off at the store, you know. But there were many things that he did not carry, and the demands were not great enough for him to carry that we had to go to Mayfield to get them when we needed them. SUCHANEK: Now, your family raised tobacco? Is that- DORAN: Yes, that was the cash crop. We raised corn, and wheat, and oats, and barley, such as that, to feed the stock on, and to feed the cows that we milked, and then later, in our years, they built a PET Milk Company, they called it, in Mayfield, which was a milk processing plant. And, we would milk more cows than we needed the milk for the family and would put it in large cans and a milk truck would come by and pick those up everyday and take them into Mayfield, and they'd process the milk there. And that provided a little cash for us. But I was always impressed, rather adversely I guess, with the fact that we'd work hard all the summer to raise corn, and oats, and all sort of grain to feed the mules so they would be able to plow next spring and raise more grain to feed them the next winter, you know. I never did see much function in working all the summer to make grain to feed the mules, and then use them the next year to do the same thing. Farming never was very impressive to me. I never did, I worked hard on the farm, as all of the boys did, but we did little more than our father arranged for us to do. He'd always tell us on Monday morning what the plans were for the week, and we followed that simply because he said that's the way to farm, and it never did impress me, I never did get interested. About the only thing I looked forward to during the week, when I was a youngster growing up was getting off, if we got caught up with our work, we called it, and we'd get to go to the Obion River on Saturday afternoon, and what we called then, going a washing. We finally talked about going and swimming, you know, but it was, it was skin, it was skin diving and skin washing then, and that's about the only recreation we had. On Sunday, my mother always planned for us to go to church, and we'd get up with our best clothes and Sunday finery and we'd go to church, and outside of the school functions in this little community there was just very little social carrying's on except families got together when tobacco cutting time came, and they'd swap work cutting tobacco, and wherever we were cutting tobacco that family would furnish the lunch, which we called dinner then. And if somebody needed a larger barn, families would go in and help him build a new barn, we called it barn raising, and we all went together as families, and swapped work on wheat thrashing, wheat thrasher would come through the community, an old steam engine kind of wheat thrasher. SUCHANEK: Who owned that? DORAN: And, go from farm to farm and thrash their wheat, and the farmers would go and help each other on wheat thrashing. Well, those were sort of social gatherings, and about the only contact we had with one another outside of the school. SUCHANEK: Who owned the wheat thrasher? DORAN: Well, the wheat grows in the field, you've seen the wheat growing in the field, well, you have a wheat cutter, a binder, that you go in there, and you use this machine to cut the stalks down and bundle them, put them in bundles, and then after they are tied in these bundles, you stack them in stacks, and then cap the stack with another bundle, and there you've got the field with all of these stacks of wheat out there. And some person in the community would buy him a wheat thrasher, and it was a steam engine kind of contraption with huge, large, huge wheels that he would come in the community. You always knew the wheat thrasher had come through, because the weight of it broke in nearly all of the little bridges, and the drains on the country roads, you know. And so he'd set up and then we'd take our wagons and team of mules and four, five, or six or eight in the community, and haul this wheat from these stacks out in the field to the wheat thrasher and then throw those bundles in there. And he had a contraption within the machine that would thrash this seed from the heads of the wheat, and then out one place would come the straw and the chaff, and another place would come the wheat, the grain, and you'd bundle that up and either save some to plant the next spring, or marketed them as a part of your cash crop. SUCHANEK: Now, the farmer who owned the thrasher, would he get a percentage of your crop? DORAN: Yes, he'd get a toll, just like they did at the gristmills. Now, at the gristmills, you'd take this wheat, some would, and he'd, the mill keeper would grind that wheat into flour and, or you'd take your corn and he'd grind your corn into meal, and he'd charge you a toll. And so the fellow who owned the wheat thrasher would also charge the farmers a toll for the wheat that he had thrashed. I don't know that I ever knew, at least if I ever did, I don't remember what the toll was, or what portion he'd take out o fit. SUCHANEK: I'm sure it was worth it. DORAN: Well, it was worth it, and then I'm sure he got his share of wheat without raising any too. It was a community mutual understanding thing. SUCHANEK: Yeah. Now, you were born in, on September 1, 1909. Do you recall anything about the night riders and the assassination. DORAN: Oh yes. Yes. SUCHANEK: What can you tell me about that? DORAN: I remember very distinctly the night riders in the community, and I remember that they came one night and tried to enlist my father. I guess I was five, six, seven years old, but I remember very distinctly. They came and tried to get him to join the night riders, but he was not interested in that kind of society, and that kind of discrimination against people, and that infringement upon the rights of other individuals, and so he refused to join. But, he was fearful that they might give him a flogging, as they called it, you know. And, they'd take these people that resisted them, and they'd take them out and give them a good flogging, and convince some of them that their lives were in danger, and they must join. But, now I did not know at that time, the significance of night riders, and the bias and prejudice that they held, but it was not a racial thing then, with our community, because there were just very few black families that lived in the community. And the ones that did live there were as integrated as any of the rest of us, because in this process that I was trying to describe about swapping work, Anderson England's family lived in the community that was black, and they swapped work with us, and we ate with them, and they ate with us, and he sent his daughters to Mayfield to High School, it was a very acceptable family in the community, so it was not a racial thing then with the night riders, but- SUCHANEK: Yeah, I think it became that later. DORAN: It did, it became that later, and then finally went into, what I guess we know today as the Ku Klux Klan. I guess that is an offshoot of the old night riders. And, I don't remember why they did it. I don't know now, but I'm recalling, as you talk about this, that in preparation for a crop of tobacco, we would do what we called burn the plant bed, and we'd burn this soil with wood that would kill the weed seed, and we'd sow these seed, and then these tobacco plants would come up, we called it, and we'd take these tobacco plants and transplant them out on the farm. And I remember vaguely talking about, or hearing them talk about the night riders would scrape the tobacco beds, and I don't know why they did that, what the, other than to humble the owners and bring them into membership among the night riders, so my remembrance of them, Jeff, is rather vague, but I do recall, as a youngster, hearing them talk about it. SUCHANEK: Mm-hm. When they visited your father, were they wearing their masks, do you recall? DORAN: I don't recall that. SUCHANEK: Okay. DORAN: I just remember his telling the family about their coming one night. And, trying to get him to join them. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. Do you remember him saying anything about, perhaps some of your neighbors being night riders? DORAN: No, I don't know who, I don't know who they, I don't know who they would have been. I don't know who these would have been that came to him. And, but I do know that I was impressed with the fact that he was just more democratic in his concepts of society than those fellows were, and he just didn't want to have anything to do with them, and didn't want us to grow up under that kind of pressure in society. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. Now, you'd mentioned that you had livestock on your farm. What kinds of livestock, and how many of each would you have? DORAN: Well, we didn't, we didn't, we were not in the business of livestock for crops, we used, we raised only enough for our own milk cows, for our own milk, and butter, and we raised chickens- SUCHANEK: Would that have been two cows maybe? DORAN: Yeah, maybe two or three, but after we got to the point that we could milk cows and sell the milk to the PET Milk Company, we got more cows then as a part of our cash crop, but as I grew up we only had two or three cows for our own use, and to produce the butter. And then chickens to produce the eggs, and set those old hens. And produced flours, and that was a part of our food, and then we seldom had, as I remember, more than two teams of mules. We drove mules then, plowed them, and drove them to wagons and surreys, but we always had an old horse that we rode to school. We lived some five miles away from high school, and my father bought this old one-eyed broken wind, single-foot loping (Suchanek laughs) mare that we'd ride to school. And at one, I remember one time, my youngest brother was in high school, same time I was, and both of us would ride that old mare to school. Now, outside of her as just a utility horse to ride around the farm, or to school, we didn't have any horses, they were just all mules that we plowed in the fields. SUCHANEK: How about pigs for pork? Did you have those? DORAN: Yes, we did. We raised our own pork, and we would have hog killings. That was another time in which the family, people in the community would help each other, at hog killing time, because you had to kill hogs during the cold spell. We'd call it a cold snap, hog killing weather, you know, so that the meat would not spoil before you got it processed and salted down, but we'd always try to put up enough meat to last us during the year. But during the period of time, Jeff, between, as I remember, between the time that we ran out of meat in the fall and early winter, and before hog killing weather came, we, us boys, would spend some time trapping, particularly we would trap rabbits. And, that would give us fresh meat, you know, to tide us over until hog killing time. SUCHANEK: Well what season was hog killing? DORAN: Huh? SUCHANEK: What month would hog killing take place? DORAN: Well, you'd trap rabbits in November and early December, and I remember so much about my rabbit trapping. We made a large box with sides and ends and top and bottom, you know, and fix that box in the form of a snare. And we'd put bait in that box, you know, and the rabbit would go in, and then he would trip the snare and the top would, the door would fall down and trap him in there. And then we'd go, and we could tell whether we had a rabbit or not, the entire trap had been sprung, and we'd take that rabbit out, and skin him, and sometimes we'd catch a possum, and we'd skin that old possum. I don't remember that we ever caught any other animal that we could skin, but we'd skin that possum and then dry his hide, and we'd sell that hide for ten, fifteen, twenty-five cents, you know. And, but, I remember when I was about the sixth and seventh grades, this little one room school near our home, I expect a mile, and I got the job from the teacher of building the fires. We'd, the students would cut wood during the week to have wood the next week. And, the teacher would have to pay the fire builder, so I got her to give me the job of building her fires at seven and a half cents a day, that was a dollar and a half a week, you know, for five days, but I'd go, and in the morning, I'd go to the school house and build the fire so the house would be warm when they all got there. And then I'd go back home and eat breakfast, but I'd go by my rabbit traps on my way back home to eat breakfast, and great joy when I went home, you know, with two or three rabbits, because we'd have some fresh meat for the next two or three days. But we learned then to live pretty frugal and pretty conservative. We didn't make much money, but we made as much money as anybody in the community. We were poor farmers, subsistence farming, but everybody else was too, and we didn't know that we were any poorer than anybody else, and didn't know anybody was richer than anybody else. It was a pretty cosmopolitan community. SUCHANEK: Um-hm, um-hm. Now, when did you notice a change in diet? When did beef become a primary meat for you to eat? DORAN: Well, I don't remember, growing up, and I don't suppose anybody did at that time about calories or triglycerides, or any other harmful condition in your body. We would eat eggs for breakfast, and sausage, and bacon, and ham, and any other kind of food that we produced on the farm without any regard at all. But, I suspect after I started in college, I began to study the effects that diet and food had on one's body, and then particularly after Mignon and I married, she became rather sensitive, and extremely conscious of the food that we ate, and the food that she fixed, and the limits on how many eggs we could eat, how often we could eat them, and whether we could eat bacon and ham, and hamburgers, and all of those things, until in the last thirty years, we have been extremely conscious of whether we eat fats, and affect our bodies or not, and I think that's one of the things that we attribute our good health to. And, we are in excellent health, both of us. Mignon is eighty and I'm eighty-one, and we have had no major physical problems at all. And I think a lot of it is my diet, but when I grew up without any regard in the world to it. Now, my father died when he was seventy-two years old, and I think that his diet hastened his heart attack. He never ate a bite of, a morsel of food on his plate, however well it was seasoned, that he did not sprinkle salt all over everything that he ate, and he never thought about refusing any hog meat, or animal meat, or animal fats of any kind, and I'm confident that he developed this heart condition and hardening of the arteries, and occlusion of his blood vessels simply because of his diet. SUCHANEK: Um-hm, um-hm. Did you notice that beef became a mainstay after electricity came in? With the TVA down in that area? DORAN: Well, I don't recall that that had that- SUCHANEK: Because you needed the electricity for refrigeration. You know, the pork you could salt. DORAN: Well, I grew up in a community where TVA did not reach until far later. We, I grew up where we had coal oil lamps, kerosene lamps, and we had, did not have indoor plumbing, and it was not until the days that I went to college in the late '20's and the early '30's that we ever started talking about electric lights and TVA and REA and all coming into the communities. Now, I became obsessed rather, somewhat at least, with the cheap and abundant power concept of better living when we were in the state legislature in 1944 and 1946, and the great battle in Kentucky politics in 18--, in 1944, and 1946 sessions of the legislature was a battle between Harry Lee Waterfield, who was Speaker of the House, over TVA and REA, and Earl Clements, who was the majority leader in the Senate, and a friend of the Kentucky Utilities. And in 1947 when Mr. Waterfield ran against Mr. Clements for the Democratic nomination for governor of Kentucky, that was the prime issue, of cheap and abundant power, and Harry Lee's friends made these speeches all over Kentucky, and Earl did too, but he reserved himself to the fact that you did not need the government providing this power, that private companies would provide it. Well, the truth of it is, the private companies had never provided it and never did provide it. Not until the dams were built. And the water power was generated, the electricity, did we break through on having all the power that the people wanted in building lines into the rural sections of Kentucky, and America asked for that, you know. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. For your coal oil lamps, where did you get the oil for that? Was that at the general store? DORAN: Yes. Yes, now he would, the general store keeper would always carry a big drum, he called it, which was steel, I guess, and he had a pump on the top of that thing and a hose that ran down in the barrel and he'd hand pump your gallon of kerosene, coal oil, and you'd go to the store, and as you got other staples, you'd get your gallon of coal oil. You had to be careful with it because it was so contaminating it would contaminate all your food. So one youngster had to tote the kerosene, and the rest of them carried the rest of the groceries, but I remember very distinctly in the twilight period of the day that one of our jobs, and my job particularly, was to help my mother clean the lampshades and fill the lamp base with coal oil to light them that night, and do what we call trimming the wick. Now that wick was a cotton kind of item that ran up through a contraption that it would, by osmosis would pull that oil up into it, and we trimmed that wick from the night before and get it ready and light it, and we had a coal oil lamp in every room, you know, and that was the way we had our light. And even in churches, we had the coal oil lamps in churches, and I don't remember of going to a church house until I was well beyond high school, that had electricity. SUCHANEK: I bet you that was a messy job filling those with coal oil. DORAN: Indeed it was. Indeed it was. And, particularly if you had those open chimneys, that moth and flies and all would fly into those lamps, you know, and it would burn them and they'd make a decided mess. It was a rather crude way of living, but we got by with it. SUCHANEK: I want to take you back for a flashback. I want you to stand in the doorway of the general store that you used to go to. Look inside and tell me what you see and tell me what you smell? DORAN: Well, I suppose you'd stand in the front door of this country store, and over on one side of it, as I remember, were all of the staple groceries. And they were dusty, and he didn't pay much attention to dusting them off. On the other side, as you went in, I remember were the textiles, and he had some overalls, we called them, blue jeans, we talk about them now, you know, and he'd have them stacked there, and he'd have some wool winter sweaters stacked there. But the cloth came in large bolts, most of it, twenty-four or thirty-six inches wide, and in big bolts and he would sell that cloth to the women who wanted to make the clothes for the children, and the mothers made all of the clothes except the suits. My mother never did make suits, but she made all of our shirts, and underwear, and all, and made all of her dresses. She made all her dresses, and I can see that old country store keeper Mr. Williams now as he took this bolt and he measured a yard from the end of his nose to the end of his finger. SUCHANEK: Is that right (laughs)? DORAN: And so that'd be a yard, and then he'd pull it out again and measure that, you know, and everybody trusted that his arm was three feet long, you know. And then back in the back of it, would be his coal oil barrels and some salt, and some sugar, and some meal, and flour, and in about the middle of the store, he had a great big potbellied stove, brown thing, the flu of it ran out through the top of the building, you know, and early in our lives, he would feed that old stove with wood, but then later he ordered coal and would burn coal in it. It was a rather innocuously kept store, I would say to you. And you had a mixture of odors and impressions as you went in of everything that was in there. And then back in the far back end of his stores, I remember, is where he had the cases of eggs, the big box of eggs that he would buy. We would go and we'd take eggs and swap them to him for staple groceries, you know, and everybody else did, and it was just a conglomeration, I guess, of everything that he sold, and poorly kept, and poorly ventilated, and certainly it was rather smelly when you went in, the odor was very easily detectible. SUCHANEK: Now, did you all have a fruit seller or a vegetable seller? DORAN: No, no. We raised all of our fruit, and our gardens, this was a spring experience for all of us, and my mother always boasted of the fact that she had English peas by the first day of May, and we prided ourselves in our gardening and all, you know, and all of our vegetable we raised, and we'd usually have peach trees and pear trees and apple trees, and we'd have the apples when they were ripe, but we'd also take those apples and peel them and cut them up and put them out in the sun to dry. And there we had dried peaches and dried apples and all for the winter time. But now, I do remember we had what we called a traveling peddler. He was a hookster kind of fellow, you know, and he would drive through the community about once a week and pick up whatever produce we wanted to sell and would have some staples that the local storekeeper did not carry, particularly cracker jacks, popcorn, and chewing gum. We'd always beg mother to buy us a package of chewing gum and some cracker jacks when the peddler came around, you know. And, he'd go through the community, and some of them carried a chicken coop on the back of their wagon and they'd buy chickens from the people that they traded with, and they'd take in chickens and eggs and maybe butter too for the staples that they'd sell. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. Well, I better turn this over. [End of Tape #1, Side #1] [Beginning of Tape #1, Side #2] SUCHANEK: I forgot to ask you, did your father own the land that you farmed? DORAN: Well, at times he did. At times he did not. Now, I remember in my younger days, when I was born, we lived on rental property as a tenant farmer. And then we somehow got enough credit, or enough cash for a down payment, and he bought a farm. But, a depression came about this time and nearly, not nearly everybody, but a lot of people in our community lost their farms. And, so I remember this summer that we had such a difficult time, I had typhoid fever, I remember, and was in bed for three months during that time, and- SUCHANEK: What year was this? DORAN: Huh? SUCHANEK: What year would this have been? DORAN: What, say what? SUCHANEK: What year would this have been? DORAN: Well, it would have been about, I was about ten years old. So, it would have been about 1919. SUCHANEK: Okay. Do you think it was typhoid? Or the- DORAN: Just typhoid, and it was polluted water, you see, we had to drink water out of a cistern, and we hauled the water from places where people had wells that they'd pump this water out and put it in these watering tanks, and most of the people just had cisterns, and during that summer, there was a very severe drought, and we know now that our water became contaminated, but I was the only one in the family that took typhoid fever, and I endured that for three months, and because of that great drought we missed a crop, and nearly everybody in the community missed a crop in this area, and not having a cash crop to sell and pay the interest and the principle on the loan, the Federal Land Bank foreclosed on many of the farms in that section of Graves County, and did on our farm. And so we lost the farm, and then- SUCHANEK: What was that like? Did that devastate your father? DORAN: Beg your pardon? SUCHANEK: Did that devastate your father? DORAN: I don't think he ever recovered from it. By that time, I was a seventh or eighth grader, and two of my older brothers had already gone into public work, and there were three of us boys still at home, but as I remember it, it took the heart out of my father so far as his ambitions, economically. Really, he always thought that the lawyer that he had sold him out, and that the lawyer could have in solvent and kept the land bank from closing in on him if he had not sold out, and he developed a rather strong feeling of opposition toward those people that dealt with him, but there wasn't anything he could do, he just had to surrender the farm, and then during the rest of his life until he got to where he was not able to farm, he lived and farmed somebody else's farm. SUCHANEK: I see, um-hm. Did your mom can a lot? DORAN: Oh, indeed so. She canned all that we didn't eat during the summertime for the winter time, and she'd can beans and potatoes, and okra and all kind of fruits, and we kept this in a, what we called a cellar, in a place that had, my father had dug out in a little hole near the house, and had fixed this where we could put the fruit in there, and vegetables in there, and they would not freeze during the wintertime. And, also, I can remember that they would put apples that they would pick and put them in there and they'd keep during the wintertime, and pears, and other fruits like that. So, it was a matter of family subsistence, and it was an economic unit within itself that we dealt with. Now, after I became old enough to be, to go to high school, we had sort of overcome some of the economic difficulties, this was in nineteen and twenty-four, that we were, everybody was beginning to be better off. This was following the war, and things were in better shape, prices were higher, and you could get more for what you raised. I remember that my last year in high school that my father gave me an acre on which to raise a tobacco crop, and this income from that was going to be what it would require from me to get all that I needed to get for graduation, my graduation clothes, and my high school ring, and my diploma, and all those things, you know, so I raised this acre of tobacco, and when I sold it I got $40 for it. And, I guess that was enough to get me through, but I decided then, early, that when I graduated from high school I was going to college and learn to do something else, other than raising a $40 acre of tobacco, you know (both laugh). SUCHANEK: You may be, may have been too young to remember this, but of course, suffrage was passed in 1919, I think it was, do you remember your mother voting? DORAN: No, I do not. I don't remember of my mother ever having voted. She just was not inclined to be thus minded. My family represented a rather peculiar thing that manifested itself when I first ran for state legislature. My father and my mother's family were all rock-rib Republicans, and my father just never did see much good in a yellow- dog Democrat they called them, you know. And he would vote, and when I got ready to run for the state legislature in 1943, there were extenuating circumstances that you may want to talk about later, that prompted me to want to run, but my father was a registered Republican, and I never had any opposition. I ran a race in '43, and '45, and '49, and '50. I ran four races, and he never did vote for me. He wouldn't change his registration from a Republican to a Democrat- SUCHANEK: So he never voted in the primary. DORAN: He, and I had to run mine in the primary by myself, and he never did get to vote for me, because I didn't have any Republican opposition. So, my mother grew up in that kind of an atmosphere, and she was just not impressed with it at all, and I don't remember ever having the family, hear the family discuss anything about women's suffrage, or whether she was eligible to vote, because she didn't care a thing in the world about it. My father was so upset with me when I ran for representative the first time, old judge J.C. Spate was a good friend of his, and he had served as circuit judge in Graves County, and he served as circuit judge in the county because the Democrats were divided, and the one side of the Democrats voted for him and elected him. So, when I decided to announce my candidacy for the legislature, my father went to Judge Spate and said to him, "now Judge, I've got a problem, my only boy that's ever had any interest in politics is going to run with the Democrats, and I'm just upset about it." And, Judge Spate said to him, "well, Ed," (coughs) I don't know what's wrong with me here, "I wouldn't worry about that." He said, "I've been through that too, and I learned a long time ago, if you couldn't beat 'em, join 'em." And said, "I found out I couldn't beat the Democrats, so I joined them and was elected circuit judge. So, Adron couldn't be elected representative in Graves County by the Republicans so let him join them, and let him be elected." Well that reconciled him somewhat, but not enough to get him to change his vote. But my mother never had any political interest at all. SUCHANEK: Um-hm, okay. Now, you said you had gone to elementary school where? DORAN: At Boydsville. SUCHANEK: Boydsville, okay. And then you had moved to Cuba in 1924, was it? DORAN: Yes. SUCHANEK: Okay, and you were the first one in your family to graduate from high school. DORAN: And college too. I was the first of my family to graduate from high school or college, either. I graduated from high school in three and a half years. And, so I graduated in December of my fourth year, and then I went on to Freed Hardeman College in January of 1928, so I gained a semester. SUCHANEK: How did you manage to graduate in December? DORAN: Well, I just took more subjects. You had to have sixteen, I had sixteen subjects, and so I took, I just took more subjects than anybody else. I always, all of us did, I guess, we were poor economically and I think we were rather rich morally and socially, and spiritually as a family, well knitted together. But there was just something about the family, as I remember it, and look back on it, and realize then, I guess, we just wanted to be better than we were. There were just, there were bound to be better opportunities than we were having. There was bound to have been a better life, economically, socially, than we were experiencing when we were growing up in these difficult times, and so I moved as rapidly, as quickly as I could to get to that level, and that meant getting through high school, because the longer I stayed in high school, the longer I stayed in that captured situation that I was in. So I worked hard at getting through high school and doubled up on my subjects and got through in that length of time. SUCHANEK: Well what did your other brothers end up doing? DORAN: What they, do what? SUCHANEK: What did your brothers do for a living? DORAN: Well, my oldest brother moved to Mayfield when he married and got a job with a Mayfield milling company, and he drove a truck delivering flour and meal to the country grocery stores in that area, then he gravitated from that to a wholesale grocery salesman, and he became associated with a Covington wholesale grocery company, and he went to these country stores all over the region and took orders for groceries, and then the wholesale company would deliver those groceries during the week, and then he finally became a regional representative of a milling company to sell flour, special representative of this flour company. And so he would travel with wholesale grocery salesmen through the whole area to get those wholesale groceries to handle his flour and the local grocery man to handle his flour. So that's what he did, and rather effective and made a good living at it and was quite capable. My next brother- SUCHANEK: Did he, I'm sorry, did he live in Mayfield all his life? DORAN: Yes, he lived in Mayfield all of his life and died there, and his wife died there. Had one son, and that son is in Murray, lives in Murray now. But, my next brother was an outstanding singer. We had singing schools at the country schools and country churches back when we were youngsters, and we'd go to those country singing schools, run ten nights, and some singing school teacher would come in to teach us, and he became very outstanding as a vocal musician. And the Church of Christ, to which we have all belonged, practiced a cappella music, we do not have instrumental music, and consequently during worship services, and particularly back then during revival meetings, they would have a preacher to come in and do the preaching and a singer to come in and lead the singing. So, my brother Basil became very adept, and one of the outstanding singers of the Church of Christ in revival meetings, gospel meetings and all, and then later in his life he quit singing for meetings and began to preach himself, and in his latter days he was a preacher. My, then I came along as the third one, and then the one just younger than me was the only one that stayed on the farm, and he died, married and died when he was twenty-four or five years old. SUCHANEK: Oh, what of? DORAN: And then-he died of typhoid fever, we think, we think now, the doctor said it was typhoid fever, but we think now it was intestinal flu. You didn't know then what intestinal flu was, and he died within two weeks after he took the disease. And my youngest brother is still living, he's the only one of the family living, and he taught school and then represented a, the American Book Company for a number of years, and finally wound up in Nashville, Tennessee, as a director of teacher education in certification in the state department of education in Tennessee and was there when he retired. So, he has retired, he and his wife, and she was a teacher too, and they lived in Mayfield. SUCHANEK: Okay, and they were college educated? DORAN: All of them were, yeah. SUCHANEK: Okay. DORAN: Well, no. No. Now, Curtis, my oldest brother, he went to high school, but he never did got to college, but the other, the one, the boy that died as a farmer, he never even did go to high school, he finished the eighth grade and quit. He was not very prone to go to school. So when he got through with the eighth grade he quit and started farming. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. And your youngest brother, then, did he have a college degree? DORAN: Yes, yes. He taught school, coached basketball for a while, and then was director of teacher education, and it's rather ironical, I had the same job in Kentucky one time, that he had in Tennessee, as director of teacher education and certification, and he was in the state department of Tennessee when I was in the state department in Kentucky. SUCHANEK: I see, uh-huh. DORAN: Rather unusual thing. SUCHANEK: Now, did he go to Freed Hardeman? DORAN: No, he went to Murray, did his work in Murray and so did his wife. My wife went to Murray, and she didn't go to Freed Hardeman either. We didn't graduate from the same high school, I graduated from Cuba High School, and she graduated from Sedalia High School, which is about eight or nine miles apart. Then, at that time, we had fifteen high schools in Graves County, and, back then, you had a high school at every crossroads, you know. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. One room schools. DORAN: And so she was at Sedalia and I was at Cuba, but now they've consolidated all of them, and they just have one large Graves County High school in the county now that accommodates all of them with busses and transportation. SUCHANEK: Plus Mayfield High, right? DORAN: Yes. SUCHANEK: Yes, uh-huh. Do you remember who some of your teachers were? DORAN: Well, not well. I really never had, as I remember, very good teachers. The first teacher I remember of having, never did graduate from high school, and I can remember in this little rural eighth grade school, all the grades were in the same room, you know, and all of them recited in each other's presence, and I think I learned more from hearing the recitations of the students older than I than I did from the students in my class. But I can remember the first high school, the first teacher that I had that had a high school education. And she went to high school in Paris, Tennessee, the old Grove High School there that was established by the Grove Chiltonic(??) people, and she went to High School there and then came to this little school to teach. SUCHANEK: Do you remember her name? DORAN: Now, I was up in the big room of a two room school where Zelna Carter was the teacher before I ever knew of anybody who went to college. And they were very poor teachers. Did well with what they had, but they just weren't educated. They had taken the eighth grade examination and that qualified them to teach. But after I got into high school I remember some very excellent teachers that I had. My high school principle was Alonso Williams, and he's still living, ninety-four years old, I think, but he was an excellent teacher, and knew students, and knew boys, and knew how to run a school, and to teach people instead of subjects. He was my high school principle, and my arithmetic teacher, algebra teacher, and my geometry teacher, and he was a great influence on my life. His wife was a music teacher and an English teacher and she was a good teacher. So, I had some good teachers along the way, but some just sort of kept the class as they do some today, just during the period that they've been assigned to it. SUCHANEK: And you said the principle had an effect on your life, or an influence on your life, how would you say he- DORAN: Well, very strongly, he was our basketball coach. And in 1927, I was a junior in high school, and we won the county basketball championship, which really was the first time that the Kentucky High School Athletic Association districted high school athletic conference districts in Kentucky, and we won Graves County district, and we were eligible to go to Loano(??) which was about thirty-five miles away, to play in the regional tournament, and our parents just would not agree, none of them, for us to go that far away from home to play ball, we just didn't have any business doing that, we'd better stay home and go to school. Well, he sensed all of that, and he showed us how that we could buy two or three pigs, and we built a pig pen in one corner of the school ground, which was five or six acres of land, and we would bring, time about, the boys would, to bring corn from home, we either rode in buggies or horseback, and we'd bring a sack of corn, and then we didn't have a cafeteria, but we got the students to save their scraps, and we had a big barrel out there, and we put scraps in, we put the water in it, we'd make slop out of that and feed them the corn. We fattened those hogs out and sold those hogs, and took the proceeds and went over to Wingo, and Mr. Holmes was running a little radio shop over there, and we took the money we got out of these hogs, and bought the parts of a radio, and he taught us, with a blueprint, to put that radio together, and the first radio I ever heard was this radio that we put together through his influence. We organized a school paper that was mimeographed, and I was the business manager of the school paper, and then he came back to the, he was just there one year, but he came back the next year and preached in a meeting and I was baptized. And he was dead set on me going to college, and he arranged to take me to Henderson, Tennessee, in a little Whippet automobile that he owned, made by the, manufactured by the Overland Automobile Company then. Took me down there and put me in school and gave me $50 a month. He was preaching in Martin, Tennessee and he was making $50 a week, which meant he had five, he had four $50 checks a month, he took one of those $50 checks a month and gave to me and I went to school, and started me on that, and then he's been a great influence since then, and- SUCHANEK: And that was at Freed Hardeman? DORAN: Freed Hardeman, and he's- SUCHANEK: Was he a graduate of Freed Hardeman? DORAN: No, he was a graduate of Abilene Christian College in Abilene, Texas, but he was a Church of Christ preacher and had that contact with the family and wanted me to, I had no interest, no inclination, no desire, or no will to be a preacher when I went to Freed Hardeman, but after I got down there and got acquainted with the people who were there, and the great influence that the president M. B. Hardeman had on men, and the faculty, and C. P. Rowland was my dean, he's the father of Charles Rowland who's out at the University of Kentucky here now. And they had just a great influence and I was persuaded that that was what I ought to do and, but I wasn't willing to spend all of my time preaching, because I saw some preachers that didn't get along very well, and I didn't want to battle what they were battling. So I decided that I'd get me a teaching certificate, and I would teach school and preach at the same time, which made a comfortable combination for me. So I attribute much of my inspiration and motivation to find ways and means by which I could fulfill my desire to be better than I was through Alonso Williams who was my principle. SUCHANEK: I'd just like to go back, just quickly before we get into your college life, and ask you just a few more questions about your family. Did you have, when you ate meals, did you eat meals together as a family around a kitchen table or a dining room table? DORAN: Oh, indeed so. We got up early in the morning to go to work, and we had milking to do, and we had the stock to feed. And, the first opportunity we had to sit down with the family was around the big breakfast table. And, we had a big wood-fired stove, and my mother sat at one end of the table, and my father at the other end of the table, and the big stove was at her back, and so she would put biscuits in when we ate up a pan-full and another one, you know. I always thought that's why she sat there. But that was the time at which we met as a family, and about the only, about the only intercourse we had as a family was at the meal that we had. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. What would conversation be like? DORAN: Well, I can't remember the topics that were there, but my mother and father would discuss, in our presence, the problems they had in financing, and the children's clothing, and the food that we would have, and our school experiences, and how they were going to arrange to take care of it. I think necessity prompted more what we talked about than anything else. We just talked about the things that were necessary for us to talk about. I don't recall that there are any profound subjects and we didn't solve any world problems and any great economic problems except as they related to us. But, I can remember that at some of the times that some of the boys would, after the meal was over, we'd sit there and read, about the only time we had to read was while the stock was resting for us to go back to the field that afternoon, you know, because by the time we got through with the, we never did quit before sundown, and we came in and fed the stock and did the chores, it was time to drop in bed. And about the only time we had for any intercourse with one another was at the table. I remember those table meetings quite well, so far as the family was concerned. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. Did you practice proper table manners? Or was it everyone for themselves? Or- DORAN: Well we, my mother always had the idea that we ought to always do as well as we looked, and she always made an effort to have us look as well as we could. Clean. Didn't have fine clothes, but clean clothes. And, then we should behave ourselves that people would be impressed with us. Now, I'm sure she never did teach us where to put our knife and our fork and where to put our spoon and which one to use, because we didn't have anything but a knife and a fork and a spoon and we used the knife to cut up the food and the fork to get it to our mouth and the spoon to stir our tea and our coffee or whatever we were drinking, and I do not recall that she ever gave us a lecture or an object lesson on how to eat. But we grew up with a feeling, and with a response to her teaching that we ought to behave ourselves, and that was a part of table manners. Take your hat off when you go to eat, you know, and sit down and sit up straight, and don't sit on she'd say, "three joints of your backbone," you know, you're not supposed to sit on your backbone, you know. And those kinds of admonitions were a part of our bringing up. SUCHANEK: Um-hm. Now you said that after the meal was over sometimes you'd sit and read at the table. Did you have a favorite book? DORAN: Well, didn't have many books. About the only books I had were the readers that I had in school, and then I remember we subscribed, the only magazine I ever remember us subscribing to was, well, two of them, the old Comfort Magazine, they called it, and the Southern Farmer. I don't remember any of the stories that were in them except one story that I was always familiar, anxious to read, and became familiar with, was a story in the old Comfort Magazine on Chubby Bear, and it was a story of his antics as a little bear growing up and what he'd get into when he'd get into beehives and all that sort of thing. I remember that, and then in the farmer's magazine that my father was more concerned with than we were, were articles that had to do with profitable farming, but the pictures. I remember the pictures of them where it would show pictures of beautiful rolling farmland, and cattle on that land, and I always thought that if I was going to be a farmer, if I were going to be a farmer, I'd want to have that kind of a farm, but we just never did, and there weren't any in our community; we just saw them in pictures. SUCHANEK: Yeah. Did you have a favorite historical figure when you studied history? DORAN: Well, I liked war stories, and I can remember when I was in grade school during World war I, that I'd hear the folks talk about the war, and I would read the stories in our history books about the Revolutionary War, and the Civil War, and other wars that had gone on. And at that time I thought I wanted to be a soldier, and a lawyer, but as I grew up I soon dismissed that from my mind. SUCHANEK: Well, you became a Christian soldier. DORAN: Well, yeah (laughs). I hope so. And then I remember in some of these magazines that an ad would always appear, monthly, of a railway mail clerk, and it was advertising for railway mail clerks, and I remember that the salary was advertised as $1,800 a year. So during that time in my reading I was motivated to be a railway mail clerk. The nearest I ever came to that was when I was a freshman in high school and I went to Saint Louis, Missouri, because I had a brother living up there, and got me a job in Curlee Clothing Company, and while I was waiting for my job to develop in Curlee Clothing Company as a stock boy, I got me a job as a news butch on a railroad Pullman that ran from Saint Louis to Parsons, Kansas, and so I peddled apples, and oranges, and chewing gum, and newspapers and all on that run, so I guess that may have been the result of my desire to be a railway mail clerk. SUCHANEK: Uh-huh. That must have been exciting for you. DORAN: Indeed, it was exciting. SUCHANEK: Um-hm, um-hm. Did your father ever own an automobile? DORAN: No sir, I remember the first automobile I ever rode in. We had a neighbor that had an old Maxwell, and this is a part of the story, when my father bought this farm, and it was too far away for us to go in a buggy. So he got this fellow, Max Johnson, to come and take us in this automobile up to Harris Grove to look at this farm, which he finally bought. That's the first one I ever saw and the first one I ever rode in. Now, later, Dr. Ellis who lived in this little community was the only doctor there, and he bought him a little T-model roadster, and we'd hear Dr. Ellis coming down the road, you know, and see the dust all fogging behind him, and we'd, children would all run out on the porch to see Dr. Ellis run by, and it was a common thing among us when Dr. Ellis went by that we'd wave to him and say, "spin your motor Dr. Ellis." We thought it was a great thing to have an automobile with a motor in it, you know. SUCHANEK: Uh-huh. Did your mom have your younger brothers at home, or- DORAN: Yes, all of them. All of the family was delivered at home. SUCHANEK: Okay. Was there a doctor present? Or a midwife? Or- DORAN: Well, Dr. Donahue was the doctor, and he delivered all of us at our homes, and so far as she ever mentioned, she never had any trouble at all in childbirth. He was just an old country doctor, and he doctored everybody for whatever they had, probably gave them the same medicine for everything they had. But all he needed to deliver a little toe-head boy was some clean sheets and some hot water, you know, and, but all of us were delivered at home, and she had no after-effects of it that I ever knew of. She lived to be eighty-four years old, so she didn't have much trouble until she had her stroke that, with which she finally died. SUCHANEK: Yeah. What can you tell me about your experience at Freed Hardeman? Were there any college professors there that you had that- DORAN: Well, I was always infatuated with the president. He was a real stately, well-groomed, well-educated, articulate, intellectual and I was always impressed with President Hardeman. Just to be in his presence was the fulfillment of some of the things that I'd thought of all of my life at being better than I was, and if I could be that, of that nature, that's what I wanted to be, and he had a great influence on me, and I've spoken about it, I made a speech out here last summer at a lectureship we had on, I remember my teacher M. B. Hardeman, and I remember those things about him, and Charles Rowland's father was a strong influence. He was a strong academician; he was a good history teacher. And, D. D. Woody was a strong influence on me, and there were many of those teachers that were inspirations in fulfilling my desires and my hopes, and they helped me greatly and oriented me into college life, which I knew nothing about, I'd never been on a college campus till I went to Freed Hardeman to go to school, and it was just altogether different from high school and I had to have some help in orientation, and they were helpful, and I remember, very pleasantly, all of my experiences at Freed Hardeman. And, Murray, at that time, was a state teacher's college, and it was small, and the teachers there were more oriented to student development and growth than some of them are in places today. So, I never had any problem with getting along with my teachers, and they getting along with me, and they helping me and my taking the help that they wanted to give me. SUCHANEK: Looking back now, do you think any of the professors you had at either Freed Hardeman or Murray helped influence you, or had an influence on you, in your political development, in your political philosophy development? DORAN: No, not really. I think my people at Freed Hardeman influenced me to go into the study of history at the undergraduate level. I majored at the undergraduate level in history, and then when I came to the University of Kentucky to do my doctoral program, I was the first student in the college of education that went across the campus to get a minor in a field other than education. Up until that time, they were majoring in educational administration and educational supervision, or educational administration and curriculum development, you know, which was just piling higher what they had already piled anyhow, but I went across the campus and did my minor in the field of behavioral sciences and sociology and psychology and philosophy and those things. Now, I think in that area, I found some people who shared my philosophy of government. Gladys Kammerer was a professor of political science at that time, and Ralph Beers, or Howard Beers, who's still living was in Sociology, and they helped to, I guess clarify some of my political philosophies, but I can't think of anybody who really had a particular effect on my political philosophy, other than I have always believed in democracy. And I've never believed in vested interest in government, and I've never believed that it ought to be controlled by the moneyed people. And I think maybe my rearing developed that philosophy that I was not conscious of, but it became a part of my political philosophy also. SUCHANEK: Now, it's been said to me by someone at UK that Freed Hardeman College has been influential in the history of Kentucky because of the number of Kentucky graduates from that school. And I was wondering, is there anyone else that you've met besides Charlie Rowland who has been a graduate of Freed Hardeman in Kentucky? DORAN: Well, yeah, there are lots of graduates in, from Freed Hardeman in Kentucky, but more of them were at Murray when I was there, than were at the University of Kentucky. I said I don't know but what, well, I just don't know of any others, none were there, were in school at the same time I was, and then Charlie came along ten years later, but at Murray, which is some, oh, 150 miles from Henderson, Tennessee, that many of the students that went to Freed Hardeman and continued their education in the state institution came to Murray and a number of them were there at the time. SUCHANEK: Okay, I see. Well, we're about out of time on this tape. How about if we pick up the next time we meet and start into your political career then? DORAN: Marvelous. SUCHANEK: Okay, great. DORAN: Marvelous. Been pleasant. [End of interview] Doran (House 1944-1947; 1950, 3rd district; Democrat) focuses on his early years as a farmer's son in Graves County (Ky.). Highlights include his memories on going to school, farming, rural life, the night riders and the KKK, and early employment. Part 1 of 3. Kentucky Legislature