The Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 191?-19??, 1919-07-26
BALDHEADED
CLUB MEETS
AND BREAKS UP IN A ROW
WHEN COL. TIBBS is FOUND
WEARING A WIG
WOODBRIDGE SICKS oNINDIANs
Col. Bill Howell Sat Upon When He
Tried to Make Political
Speech.

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Owing to the hot weather Saturday
night, the Baldheaded Club met at
Edgewater Park and after a pleasant
boat ride on the river in the starlight,
assembled on the veranda of the bath
house and held very pleasant meet
ing, at least in its initial stages.
Judge G. H. Champlin, once known
as Col. Champlin before political and
judicial honors were thrust upon him,
presided with his customary grace
and dignity.
Judge Champlin, in assuming the
chair, said he did it with reluctance
and also with gavel made out of
one of Bill Campbell's famous lick
ory wood pipes filed with a dollars
worth of sugar. This being the case
he was equipped to call to order any
man who attempted to work off a
pipe dream. Col Bill Howell, who
had just ridden in from Louisville on
a railroad train, paying real money
for ticket, showed signs of wanting
to speak.
Col. Champlin's eagle-eye, trained
to see things as far away as Penn
broke, finally rested upon Col. How
ell just before he exploded from
pent-up eloquence. There being no
floor handy, he was given a stump
near the veranda and, after a pause
of two minutes and one second, at
tempted to thrown down a political
barrage, as follows, to-wit, namely
viz:
"Mr. President and Fellow Digni-
taries of the Ancient and Honorable
Baldheaded Club of the city of Hop
kinsville, State of Kentucky, United
States of America, League of Ma
tions:
+ Il bring to you the glad tidings
that the executive control of the
grand and glo-o-oo-orious common
wealth of Kentucky, the most beau
tiful, the grandest and recently the
driest spot on this aarth, is about to
be entrusted to my bosom friend and
fellow-patriot, Judge J. D."
Down came the Presidents gavel
with a bang and the ColoneIs pipe
dream was ended before he could tell
which Judge J. D." he meant, both
candidates for Governor being pair
ed as far as he got. Col. Bob Wool
bridge offered to bet he could tell
who the Colonel was for, but just
then Col. Bill Tibbs, charter mem
| Der of the Club but now of San Fran
cisco, California, appeared upon the
scene wearing aluxuriant wig of black
hair. Col. Woodbridge stopped with
half uttered word and pointing an
accusing finger at the wig, exclaimed ::
"At him, Indians, at him, scalp
him on the spot"
Col. Tibbs had approached with a
smile on his face. He had not been
back to town for six years and was
beaming with good nature and fever
ish with anxiety to be hello billed.
Seeing the look of rage on Col. Wool
dridge's face and noting the gather
ing storms on the countenances of
such staid and conservative members
as Col. Clarence Blakemore, Col. Wal
ter Kelly, Col. Jno. B. Trice and Col.
Champlin himself, in spite of the ju-
dicial dignity acquired by eighteen
months of hard judging and marrying
other people with nothing doing him
self, cast trouble glance around
looking for an avenue of escape.
Quicker than a thirty-day note
falls due, he club was transformed
into band of bowling Indians, every
brave with blood in his eye. Col
Tibbs is a brave man. He has been
known to buck tiger in his den and
never bat an eye. But there arose
around him frenzied mob of In
dians thirsting for gore of the apos-
ate member who had dared to hide his
badness with work of art and wear
the hated camoufage into the sacred
precincts of the club itself in solemn