Written by Diane Roberts
Some people are just legendary. No matter where you are, no matter where you go, there are some people who are identified by a single name. Some individuals need no introduction. Take the example of Elvis, Madonna, Cher, Oprah or Dolly. No matter where you go, everyone knows exactly who you are talking about, and last names are truly not needed.
Williamsburg, like many small towns, is built on the shoulders of individuals whose lives, while seemingly ordinary, have left an indelible mark on the fabric of our community. In a place where everyone knows everyone, some residents transcend the boundaries of mere acquaintance, becoming known by a single name that evokes a lifetime of shared stories and whispered legends.
Williamsburg was lucky enough to have this type of notoriety as well in the 1960s and 1970s. We had Popcorn, Diesel and Elmer.
Popcorn was a small man in stature, known by everyone in the community and was loved big by everyone. Popcorn, whose real name was Charles Brummett, always went by the nickname, “Popcorn.” He had an uncanny ability of taking things apart and putting them back together again. Back in the day, when you owned something that no longer worked, you went to great lengths to fix it. If it still didn’t work properly, you went to the most knowledgeable person around and knew with a degree of certainty if it could be fixed, Popcorn was just the man. When Popcorn was put to the task of examining your items, he could put them back together again and they just naturally worked.
I had the privilege of spending time with Popcorn at his home on Highland Park with his daughter Myra, only nine days before he passed away. The man was remarkable, and at age 96, his recollection was impeccable. He shared with me that he met his bride at a shivaree down in the Red Bird community. Shivaree, for those of you who don’t know exactly what that is, is a bit of forgotten wedding history. Shivarees were a fun-loving and loud way of celebrating a newly married couples’ marriage. Shivaree is a practice in which guests serenade newly wedded couples by yelling and banging pots and pans or cowbells outside their window in the middle of the night. It was a fun-filled night filled with pranks, music, dancing and plenty of good food and drink.
Popcorn began working at WD Bryant for Clarence Bryant when he was 12, and that lasted until he was in his late teens. He was fascinated with engines and became a long-haul truck driver. He was on his way to Houston with a load of sugar, when in 1950 a friend of his invited him to a shivaree which delayed his trip. There he met his wife, Elizabeth Taylor, and six months later, they were married. The long-haul trucking was behind him and after a stint in the army, a 27-year career at the local Dr. Pepper Mr. Cola Bottling Plant, he went into business with Arlis Faulkner at the Whitley County Concrete Company. Although he was successful in his own right, his kindness touched the hearts of many Whitley Countians as he continued to repair lawn mowers and small appliances of all kinds for many individuals in the area. He just had a gift and enjoyed helping others along the way. Williamsburg was his town, and he was extremely proud of it.
Diesel was a local businessman who was known throughout the community as the owner and operator of Buhl’s Chevron in Williamsburg for more than 50 years. He grew up in Williamsburg on 2nd Street and always had a fascination with cars. He moved up north to get a good job, would find the car of his dreams, then sold it for a hefty profit and the pursuit would begin all over again. He liked every part of a moving vehicle. He finally decided to build a state-of-the-art new gas station close to the mouth of Highway 92. He made sure that this station was a full-service gas station for the convenience of his customers, complete with attendants pumping your gas, washing the windows, checking the tires, and then he would hang around the gas tanks just making conversation until your visit was over. He would thank you for coming and welcome you back again when you need his service. He knew everyone in the surrounding area, and everyone knew Diesel just by that first name. Everybody liked him and he was a fixture in the community. He was well respected and had a kind heart.
At the time of his death in 2015, his daughter, Janice, shared with me that among his belongings was a large receipt box filled with slips of paper. When someone came to get gas throughout the years and did not have the money on them at the time, they would say, “Charge it!” and he would write the total down on a slip of paper and put it in the receipt box. Many times, if someone was down on their luck and needed couple gallons of gas to get where they were going, he would make sure that their needs were met. That was just the kind of man Diesel Buhl was.
Elmer was a local. He was our state representative in the 70’s for several years. He came from a long line of Community leaders. It was in his blood at an early age. His father, mother, brothers, and sister were all in public service at some point. Elmer was political but he was a friend to everyone. He had a large presence and a booming unmistakable voice. When he would call someone on the phone he would say “Do you know who this is?” and the answer would always be, “Yes, Elmer Patrick, I believe I do.” He was bigger than life.
Elmer was an early entrepreneur, and one of his business ventures was a local restaurant called “The Hungry Pioneer” on the Cumberland Falls Highway by the interstate exchange. It was a relaxed place to eat, and the menu specialized in southern home cooking. Elmer made it his makeshift office at times, often conducting business at one of the tables while drinking unsweetened tea and inviting folks to have a piece of his favorite chocolate pie and talk awhile. He also owned The Ribeye Restaurant located near where the strip mall is located across the street from Walmart today. It was the place to go for special occasions, anniversaries and birthdays if you were lucky. I can remember that fresh salad bar and the ambiance of the décor as if it were only yesterday.
All three of these men with their notoriety of having complete recognition by only one name, have made considerable contributions to Whitley County in very different ways, laying the cornerstones of the place it is today.
These single names are badges of honor, earned through a lifetime of dedication to the town and its people.
They were legends who helped shape Williamsburg’s character and provided a sense of belonging for generations of the town’s spirit. They remind us that sometimes the most extraordinary lives are found in seemingly ordinary places, lived by people who chose to make a difference one neighbor at a time.
