Welcome to the history of
Pewee Valley, Kentucky
Learn about Pewee Valley, Ky.’s history, National Register sites and famous citizens.
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Maps, other reference materials and museum information are also available.
How Pewee Valley Got Its Name
What do you call a person from Pewee Valley?
And, no, this isn't a one-liner from a late night monologue. It’s a serious question. If Louisville residents are referred to as “Louisvillians,” shouldn’t citizens of Pewee Valley be referred to as “Pewee Valleyans”? And taking that logic a step further, doesn't that make all the females of the town “Valley Girls”? |
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Most of the time, residents are referred to as “Pewees” – not exactly a label the male of the species – other than the occasional major league baseball player or fictional comedic character -- would prefer to be known by.
Recently, I heard a new epithet from Pewee Valley Police Chief Greg Larimore. He referred to the residents as “Pe-wee-ans.” To my ear, Peweeans sounds more like a Native American tribe or Appalachian clan than a batch of commuters from the ‘burbs. However, after doing some historical research, it turns out Chief Larimore is correct. According to a spoof on the area’s history, Antiquates Peeweeji: A Discourse on the Antiquities of Pewee, written on July 4, 1858, when the budding town was known as Smith’s Station, some citizens were already referring to themselves as Peweeans.
Which brings me to my point. Pewee Valley is such an odd moniker. Not that there aren’t other strangely-named towns in the Commonwealth of Kentucky: Rooster Run, Rabbit Hash, Monkey’s Eyebrow, Possum Trot, Big Bone Lick, Bugtussle, Whoopee Hill, 88 and Black Gnat, to mention a few. The Bluegrass State seems to have more than its fair share. Maybe it’s because we were once the hemp capital of the United States. Or perhaps it’s a consequence of the state’s long-time love affair with bourbon. But I digress. The point of this narrative, like one of Rudyard Kipling’s “Just So Stories,” is to tell the tale of How Pewee Valley Got Its Name.
Recently, I heard a new epithet from Pewee Valley Police Chief Greg Larimore. He referred to the residents as “Pe-wee-ans.” To my ear, Peweeans sounds more like a Native American tribe or Appalachian clan than a batch of commuters from the ‘burbs. However, after doing some historical research, it turns out Chief Larimore is correct. According to a spoof on the area’s history, Antiquates Peeweeji: A Discourse on the Antiquities of Pewee, written on July 4, 1858, when the budding town was known as Smith’s Station, some citizens were already referring to themselves as Peweeans.
Which brings me to my point. Pewee Valley is such an odd moniker. Not that there aren’t other strangely-named towns in the Commonwealth of Kentucky: Rooster Run, Rabbit Hash, Monkey’s Eyebrow, Possum Trot, Big Bone Lick, Bugtussle, Whoopee Hill, 88 and Black Gnat, to mention a few. The Bluegrass State seems to have more than its fair share. Maybe it’s because we were once the hemp capital of the United States. Or perhaps it’s a consequence of the state’s long-time love affair with bourbon. But I digress. The point of this narrative, like one of Rudyard Kipling’s “Just So Stories,” is to tell the tale of How Pewee Valley Got Its Name.
The Legend
There’s a legend associated with Pewee Valley’s unusual name. In it, both the Eastern Wood-Pewee bird and an early resident, 19th century educator and grammarian Noble Butler (1819-1882), figure prominently. A reference to how Pewee Valley got its name is noted in a biographical sketch of William D. Gallagher, a neighbor, which appeared in Ohio History, Volume 2 (Ohio Archeological and Historical Publications, 1893):
Pewee Valley (at first named Pewee's Nest by Noble Butler, from the circumstance that when locating a building site there he wrote letters in a ruined cabin in which the pewees had built) is a beautiful village, on the Louisville & Nashville Railroad, about sixteen miles east of Louisville. It became a chosen resort of people of culture and taste.
A similar tale is told in Antiquates Peeweeji, but in much more romantic style. The story describes the Eastern Wood-Pewee as a mystical bird, which celebrated the Biblical dawn of creation with her song, “Pe-wee, Pe-wee…Peace and good will, peace and good will...”, but disappeared when Adam and Eve tasted the forbidden fruit. The bird did not reappear until Noble Butler arrived in the paradise now known as Pewee Valley:
…When these pioneer settlers and their families and dependants (sic), had gathered themselves together, and erected those beautiful palaces which are the wonder of every passing traveler; and had learned the legend with which this veritable history commences, they began to see that, segregated as they were from a barbarous world, they must make a government of their own, by which those who succeeded them might learn to be fitted for intercourse with the world outside. Pending the discussion of this weighty matter, there came another settler to these shores. This was a scholar,
…“a bookman wise as three
Darker a scholar you shall not see
In Jewrie, Rome or Araby.”
Darker a scholar you shall not see
In Jewrie, Rome or Araby.”
Modest of mien, but mighty in mind, he placed his penates in an humble cottage, little dreaming the destiny fate had in store for him. To him had been committed, in the outside world, the charge of the barbarian youth (editor’s note: in 1839, Bulter became professor of Greek and Latin at the University of Louisville). His was the task to “rear tender thought, to teach the young idea how to shoot”… his fancy wandered to the Arcadia of which he had heard from its pioneer settlers. Hither came he then, and in the little cottage sat him down to rest from toil. Foremost of all was he, this Professor, in framing the new government….
While sitting one day, like Tytoerus, “beneath the shady shadow of an umbrageous beech” contemplating the rules of all past governmental economy, as applicable to his new home, his ear was suddenly arrested with the magic sounds, “Pe-wee”, “Pe-wee”. At first he distrusted his hearing. Could it be the magic bird again had visited the earth? Was the promised paradise indeed renewed? Was “Peace and Good Will, Peace and Good Will,” again to dwell in those shades where first it had been proclaimed? As thus, gazing upward, he enquired, the bird flew down and perched above his head, trilled forth the song of old, “Pe-wee, peace and good will; Pe-wee, peace and good will.”
…Then ran from house to house, and assembling his friends, he narrated his vision. The pioneers knew full well the meaning of this miracle, and with one accord, they bowed the knee before the Professor, and hailed him “KING OF PEWEE”, when all the woods around became suddenly vocal with the song-bird’s note….
While sitting one day, like Tytoerus, “beneath the shady shadow of an umbrageous beech” contemplating the rules of all past governmental economy, as applicable to his new home, his ear was suddenly arrested with the magic sounds, “Pe-wee”, “Pe-wee”. At first he distrusted his hearing. Could it be the magic bird again had visited the earth? Was the promised paradise indeed renewed? Was “Peace and Good Will, Peace and Good Will,” again to dwell in those shades where first it had been proclaimed? As thus, gazing upward, he enquired, the bird flew down and perched above his head, trilled forth the song of old, “Pe-wee, peace and good will; Pe-wee, peace and good will.”
…Then ran from house to house, and assembling his friends, he narrated his vision. The pioneers knew full well the meaning of this miracle, and with one accord, they bowed the knee before the Professor, and hailed him “KING OF PEWEE”, when all the woods around became suddenly vocal with the song-bird’s note….
According to the story, those “pioneer settlers” Noble Butler assembled to hear his vision for Smith’s Station’s new name included:
A third account of how Pewee Valley got its name was penned by Catherine Anne Warfield as a narrative poem and first appeared in print in May, 1873. In her version, the settlers convened a council and it resulted in deadlock -- not unexpected, with so many talented wordsmiths assembled in one room! The deadlock was broken by a Pewee bird’s song and “the dark browed student” –Noble Butler – suggested that Pewee be the name of the “valley fair”:
- Artist and author, W.C. Allan, known best for his portrait of Daniel Boone that hung in the old state Capitol building, and later the author of North Carolina History Stories;
- Retired Lexington journalist and Louisville merchant Thomas Smith;
- Historian Ben Casseday (September 7, 1825-December 4, 1878), who authored the History of Louisville in 1852 and was living at Owl’s Nest with his wife, Corrina Estill Casseday, and her parents, but made his living in Louisville at his father’s china and glass concern, S. Casseday and Son at 304 W. Main;
- Edwin Bryant, journalist, former alcade (mayor) of San Francisco and author of What I Saw in California, which became the guidebook for the '49ers during the California gold rush;
- Poet and author Catherine Anne Warfield, and her husband, Robert Elisha Warfield. Catherine published her first romantic novel, The Household of Bouverie or the Elixer of Gold, anonymously in 1860.
- The widow (Patsy) and daughter (Alice Estill Warfield) of former Virginia legislator, Congressman and Fifteenth Judicial Circuit Judge Benjamin Estill. Estill died in 1853, just a year after moving to Pewee Valley;
- Poet, journalist and editor of the Western Literary Journal and The Hesperian, William David Gallagher.
A third account of how Pewee Valley got its name was penned by Catherine Anne Warfield as a narrative poem and first appeared in print in May, 1873. In her version, the settlers convened a council and it resulted in deadlock -- not unexpected, with so many talented wordsmiths assembled in one room! The deadlock was broken by a Pewee bird’s song and “the dark browed student” –Noble Butler – suggested that Pewee be the name of the “valley fair”:
A band of settlers had chosen a glade
Deeply emboweled in beechen shade; Weary of turmoil, of crowds, of strife, They longed for the peace of a rural life. They reared their dwellings with porch and hall; Volumes and pictures on ev’ry wall; While vines and blossoms of many a dye Made gardens fit for a poet’s eye. “What shall we call our valley fair?” Said the poet one day, with the golden hair; “Our homes are garnished, our trees are set. But a name is a thing that is wanting yet.” Then they called a council of young and old, And every settler was soon enrolled; A motley group, yet of one accord As each one rejected his neighbor’s word. For every settler a name had brought, Some amid ancient lore had sought, But the sounding titles of Greece and Rome Seemed strange in that peaceful, rural home. Grand Indian names some bore in mind, Strong and deep as the lurking wind, But they bore strange memories of whoop and yell, and were quite too fierce for that sylvan dell. Others had gathered from Spain and France, High sounding titles of past romance; And some had wished to enshrine the spot With the lovely legends of Walter Scott. All failed to please, and a silent cloud Hung o’er the disappointed crowd; When suddenly from a tiny throat Burst forth an unexpected, suggestive note. On the ledge of the porch where council met, Where his mate on her speckled eggs was set, While he hovered above her in loving glee-- A self-called member proposed "Pee Wee." A sound of greeting -- a glad "All Hail!" It seemed from the genies of the vale. And the dark browed student said to the bird "You have supplied the wanted word." Then the council arose with one acclaim And Pewee Valley became a name. Still the small, gray bird with marital nest “Neath every roof is a welcome guest.” |
Which version of the events lies closest to reality, 21st century Peweeans may never know. The truth is shrouded by poetic license and the mists of time. However, one fact is clear. It’s Noble Butler who deserves to wear the mantle of fame – or blame, pending on your point-of-view!
In this Ode to Pewee, published in the July 5, 1858 edition of the Louisville Daily Courier, Butler, writing under the pseudonym A. Muttynge Hedde, admits the name was a joke:
In this Ode to Pewee, published in the July 5, 1858 edition of the Louisville Daily Courier, Butler, writing under the pseudonym A. Muttynge Hedde, admits the name was a joke:
Ode to Pewee.
Poets herald shrinking merit, As boys crown an ass and cheer it – Two achievements much the same As cooks coffee make and stir it With an egg and spoon to clear it, Poets mix the cup of fame. Homer sang of great Achilles. Herod sang of neat* and fillies-- Clever rhymesters in their way Moderns drag the muse in seawood But I’ll have her duly Pewee’d And restore her better day. Ere I sing of Pewee Valley, Future times will naturally Wish what Pewee means to hear; For like phoenix, griffin, scurus, Dragon, dodo, sphinx, centaurus, Pewees, too, will disappear. Pewee ne plus poultry birds are In whose tender praise my words are, Like Plug Ugly shoulder hitters, Coarse and brutal, wanting polish, Touching only to demolish --- Or like Mynheer’s garlic bitters. As an angel, strain their music, Antidotes the deadly Prussic, Melancholy in the breast; Notes, whose soft melodious physic, Cures the mind of sniveling phthisic**. Twitter from the pewee’s nest. Tempe, Chamossni or Cashmere, Is, comparatively, flesh mere, By the side of Pewee Valley. Can the vales where dwell the Switzer Rank with Pewee? Not a bit, sir --- Named nor formed so classically. Here my prancing muse embarrassed, Finds her foot poetic harassed By an ugly prick of fact. Still, in poets lying’s fair, as’t Keeps their verses from being bare, aths- Matic doggerel crudely quacked. I've essayed this valley’s praises; Now, it swift compunction raises. To have used the vulgar lingo, To have called this Pewee Valley. ‘Tis no valley and there’s really Not a Pewee in’t, by jingo. ‘Tis so d----d infernal hilly, That it’s most I (ditto) silly What they call it and most vile. Universal Hill, not valley I would call it. Tom Macauley*** Couldn't do it in better style. Oh, thou far-famed Pewee Valley, What a pity facts don’t tally With thy antique Grecian name! Fitting names are sheen and luster On the rolling drums which muster The untrained recruits of Fame. But no matter, here’s a paean To whatever is Peweean; To that Athens-mirroring town, Rollington, with all its peoples, “Publicinn,” and tall church steeples,**** And Lord Mayor Tumbledown. Vale of ponds and frogs and berries, Vale than which no droller there is, Prosper more than words can tell! Bring forth babes, each week a dozen; Be like mine their names well chosen; Long wave Pewee and farewell! |
*cattle **tuberculosis ***British writer, historian, politician and poet (1800-1859), who wrote several famous ballads, including Horatius
**** The town of Rollington was incorporated and settled long before Pewee Valley, although it is now a part of the city. As stated in the poem, it did, indeed, have a public inn and a church
**** The town of Rollington was incorporated and settled long before Pewee Valley, although it is now a part of the city. As stated in the poem, it did, indeed, have a public inn and a church

The town, however, was stuck with it. On December 30, 1871 -- the year after the City of Pewee Valley was incorporated -- the Courier-Journal ran a story called "Country Seats. A Pen Picture of Pewee Valley," which lamented the village's "humiliating" name:
We seldom see anything about "Pewee" in your paper. Why is it? Have you forgotten us? Perhaps some of your readers do not know what a delightful, what a charming place Pewee Valley is; even one may exist who does not know where it is. This beautiful village lies on the edge of Oldham County, sixteen miles from the "Falls City," and, despite its name, is situated on a ridge which separates the waters of La Belle Riviere from those of the mighty and majestic Salt River. The cognomen is no longer appropriate to the flourishing and wide-spread town stretching out before the traveler whizzing by; but as it was given by a resident -- a poet and a scholar -- in honor of the little bird of the same name -- neither a beauty or a sweet songster, but fond and familiar, coming through the house, assured of a welcome though the proverbial hospitality of the inmates -- the town still bears the name, though humiliating ...
We seldom see anything about "Pewee" in your paper. Why is it? Have you forgotten us? Perhaps some of your readers do not know what a delightful, what a charming place Pewee Valley is; even one may exist who does not know where it is. This beautiful village lies on the edge of Oldham County, sixteen miles from the "Falls City," and, despite its name, is situated on a ridge which separates the waters of La Belle Riviere from those of the mighty and majestic Salt River. The cognomen is no longer appropriate to the flourishing and wide-spread town stretching out before the traveler whizzing by; but as it was given by a resident -- a poet and a scholar -- in honor of the little bird of the same name -- neither a beauty or a sweet songster, but fond and familiar, coming through the house, assured of a welcome though the proverbial hospitality of the inmates -- the town still bears the name, though humiliating ...

A century later, Pewee Valley's name was STILL causing the city headaches. When the Jefferson Freeway (now the Gene Snyder)-Carollton stretch of I-71 opened in July 1969, Pewee's name received an extra "e." Residents were incensed, the August 1969 Call of the Pewee reported:
The objections of Pewees were reported in The Louisville Times, and Postmaster Matthews Fletcher wrote the state highway commissioner a letter of protest. The commissioner promised to correct the error -- and, sure enough, the extra "e" magically disappeared...
Adding insult to injury the Kentucky Transportation Cabinet made THE SAME ERROR in 2003, when they replaced the signage along I-71 between Louisville and I-75. Pewee Valley became Peewee Valley until the signs were once again corrected.