Throwback Thursday: The sounds that built Bowling Green
Close your eyes for just a moment. Imagine standing on Fountain Square in Downtown Bowling Green 100 years ago. It wouldn’t sound anything like today. The sounds of everyday modern life are always changing. There are many sounds that built Bowling Green that we don’t hear anymore. Does anyone still remember what these sounded like?
There’s a distant whistle of a Louisville & Nashville Railroad passenger train as it rolled into town carrying travelers, college students, and businessmen before automobiles became the preferred way to travel. The L&N line finished its Bowling Green construction in 1859 and the train depot has burned down twice in its lifetime. If you visit the Historic RailPark, it has several old whistle sounds to hear in its museum. We still hear trains, but now it’s freight and no one is hopping on or off at the depot. The passenger whistles have long since faded into history.
Down at the Barren River, another sound echoed through the valley: the chugging paddlewheels and steam whistles of riverboats. Long before I-65, the river was one of southcentral Kentucky’s highways, bringing people, supplies, and commerce. Our city was founded in this specific location because of its nearness to the river. Those powerful steam whistles announced a boat’s arrival long before anyone could see it around the bend. The age of the automobile replaced riverboat travel.
Downtown had another unique sound: the hum, rumble, and ringing bell of the electric streetcar. Beginning in the late 1800s, Bowling Green’s trolleys carried passengers between what’s now Boatlanding Park, Downtown, Lehman Avenue and Fairview Cemetery. Steel wheels clicking across the rails and the conductor’s bell were once part of everyday life. And as for “fair”-view, yes, the earliest years of the county fair were held near modern Lehman Avenue.
There was also the unmistakable growl of a Greyhound bus pulling away from the Downtown bus station. For generations, Greyhounds connected Bowling Green to cities across America, carrying soldiers, students, families, and dreamers headed somewhere new. The hiss of the air brakes, the rumble of the diesel engine, and one last wave through the window became familiar scenes for countless local families. The Downtown Greyhound station closed years ago.
And of course, there were the sounds of a working community, like the auctioneer’s rapid chant at the tobacco warehouses, the clip-clop of horses delivering goods before trucks did, the clink of fresh milk jugs being dropped off stoops or the clinking of an ice pick during deliveries before everyone had fridges and freezers in their homes.
Every generation has its soundtrack. Some of those sounds have disappeared, while others have simply changed.
