The potato’s many nutritional benefits are common knowledge, but once upon a time, the noble spud did more than simply provide vitamins, minerals and fiber:
. . . in a certain district in Kentucky some forty years ago. . . a traveling preacher named Bowman, a strong, muscular man, was conducting a series of religious meetings in Kentucky. At one of them a well-known desperate character created a disturbance and, being publicly rebuked by Bowman, sent him a challenge to fight.
In other words, he wanted to hash brown things out. Taters gonna tate.
The preacher’s first thought was to treat the matter with silent contempt. Then he reflected that dueling was all too common in that region, and he decided to accept the challenge.
As the challenged party, Bowman had the choice of weapons. He selected a half bushel of Irish potatoes, and stipulated that his opponent must stand fifteen paces distant and that only one potato at a time should be taken from the measure.
History doesn’t say exactly when this duel took place, but dollars to doughnuts, er, spuds, it was Fry-day.
The desperado was furious, but Bowman insisted upon his rights as the challenged party and threatened to denounce the fellow as a coward if he made further objections. Seeing no way out of the scrape, the desperado at last consented.
And thus began the most epic game of hot potato in history.
The contest took place on the outskirts of the town, and almost everybody in the place turned out to see the fun.
The spec-taters hoped for latkes of action.
The seconds arranged the two men in position, by the side of each being a half-bushel measure filled with potatoes.
On your mark, get set, starch!
Bowman threw the first one. It struck his opponent in a central spot and fell in pieces.
If he’d thrown a little butter along with it, Bowman would’ve had some tasty mashed potatoes for dinner.
A shout of delight went up from the crowd, which flurried the desperado and his potato flew wide of the mark. Bowman watched his chance, and every time his opponent stooped for a potato another one hit him in the side, leaving a wet spot on his clothes and then scattering on all sides.
In other words, Bowman “kept his eyes peeled.”
The fellow was hit in this way five times; the sixth potato struck him in the short ribs and he lay on the grass doubled up with pain and groaning, “Enough.” The bystanders went wild with delight, but Mr. Bowman looked very sober.
And a beautiful friendchip was born! . . . Just kidding. This pot-duel didn’t turn the men into best spuddies.
The desperado was taken home and put to bed, and there he stayed for more than a week.
Talk about being a couch potato.
And when he appeared again he was greeted with so many jokes that life was almost a burden to him. That was the end of dueling in that region.
Potatoes save lives: Lin Manuel Miranda’s masterpiece “Hamilton”—to say nothing of history itself—would’ve had a very different ending if Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr had fought with potatoes instead of guns.
Drawing of man driving a cart filled with potatoes from the Library of Congress.
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Disclaimer: The modern era is far from the first to grapple with rampant “fake news.” As I am neither a historian nor journalist, I make no claims about the accuracy or lack thereof of the above sources. I assert only that they make for a good story.
Welcome to Second Glance History! This blog seeks to uncover the people and the stories forgotten by history and give them another read through a modern lens. Join me every week as we examine the differences that divide and the common threads that connect the then to the now.
Hopefully there were no injuries among the spec-taters.
The only one who got mashed was the desperado!