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. They would shoot the hogs and, running from the law, haul them back across the Ouachita River to skin and dress them.
That's when we Union County folks started calling Calhoun County Hogskin County.
I've spent a lot of days in Calhoun County, and it's high on my list of favorite Arkansas places to visit. Two of my top places to fish and hunt are in Hogskin ... oops, Calhoun County, and I have spent many hours paddling up Champagnolle Creek, weaving around big cypress trees, flipping a cricket in a fishy-looking spot.
Champagnolle Creek is one of the hidden gems that lives up to the Natural State nickname. The first time I fished at Cook's 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 Cook's Lake Landing at Champagnolle Creek, and after pushing off and paddling for 50 yards or so, 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 Cook's Lake, 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 Champagnolle Creek or Long Lake that kept me coming back.
Champagnolle Creek and the cotton fields nearby drew me back time after time because the area was once a large Indian village. I spent hours walking the cotton field rows picking up arrowheads, and 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 Boone's Mound. Supposedly, either Daniel Boone or one of his sons camped on the mound.
Not all my Calhoun County memories are rosy. After a big spring rain, I headed for Cook's Lake to hunt arrowheads, and 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.
Calhoun County is the former home of the Minkeye Saloon. 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; city marshal Guy B. Tucker was wounded in the gunfight and recovered.
A year after the gunfight, Marshal Tucker met one of the many Parnell brothers on Main Street, and after what was described as a heated argument, 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. A feud ensued.
He resigned as city marshal and moved across the Ouachita River from Champagnolle Landing and ran the Minkeye Saloon. We assume the Minkeye was a rather shabby added-on log cabin which served hog rustlers, riverboat passengers, and featured a golden tequila called El Dorado Tequila, the namesake of the town.
The feud caught up with the former marshal when he and his son crossed the Ouachita River on horseback to get their mail at Champagnolle 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. The Gunfight on the Square is re-enacted several times each summer and former Gov. 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 whiskey!"
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 No. 1 on their license plates. Calhoun County was No. 75. I guess that's not all bad, since it has been keeping social distancing since the 1860s, and as of early this week had zero coronavirus cases.
With a little more than 5,000 people in the county, that's 10 people per square mile. 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 vividly from when I was in school at the University of Arkansas. I would ride to south Arkansas with my roommate from Banks, and he would let me off at Jack's Liquor in downtown Hampton. Vertis would drive over from Smackover to meet me.
Email Richard Mason at richard@gibraltarenergy.com.
Editorial on 05/24/2020