John Morgan Allen lived in Lexington, Kentucky. His father was a lawyer of considerable prominence; his mother, a Morgan, granddaughter of a distinguished soldier; [pg 10] his grandmother was the daughter of John Calvin Campbell, an eloquent pioneer preacher; her husband, a lawyer when she married him, afterwards became a professional gambler and, an exception to the rule, accumulated a considerable fortune.
It was young Allen’s mother’s desire that he should be a soldier; his father’s that he should be a lawyer, and his grandmother’s that he should be a preacher. When he finished high school, his mother insisting, he was sent to Culver Military Institute, where he remained a year. Then his grandmother, having promised to give him $25,000.00 the day he should graduate at the Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary; he was sent to that institution. In the beginning of his senior year she died intestate, leaving an estate of only $60,000.00 to be divided between three living children and the heirs of three dead children. As there was no chance of the fulfillment of her promise when he should graduate at the seminary; and his conduct had been such that his professors had suggested a reformation in conformity with his prospective calling, he wrote asking his father’s consent to leave the seminary and take the law course at the University of Virginia; and he cheerfully consented. In spite of the fact that he gave much of his time to a local military company and enjoyed the reputation of being the best poker player at the university, he graduated with class honors in 1912.
Several weeks after his return home, on his twenty-second birthday, his father took him to the office and with great gladness in his heart, pointed to the name, Allen & Allen, which had been painted on the office door the day before; showed him the new embossed stationery on which his name appeared as a member of the firm; and his own room, newly painted, carpeted and furnished, [pg 11] with the name John Morgan Allen (Private) on the door. Though John’s face wore a smile of appreciation, it was merely reflective of his father’s love and enjoyment; disposition and temperament suggested rebellion, but were overcome by a sense of gratitude and duty.
In the early summer of 1913 the firm were employed by the Lockard heirs to clear the title to a large boundary of land in Leslie county; and it became necessary for John and the executor to go to Hyden for that purpose.
Just at sundown as they were riding by Litman’s old field, John’s horse shied and backed through the pawpaw bushes into Jeanne’s doll house. He dismounted and patched the partition walls into shape; then parting the bushes, showed it to Mr. Lockard.
To John, the little bone and stick dolls, dressed in rags and resting in their beds of moss and feathers were pathetic. He picked several up, and was examining them when a slender girl of twelve, in an outgrown, worn and faded dress, which did not reach to her knees, ran up crying: “Do not hurt my babies.” John rose hastily, somewhat disconcerted by the accusation, and lifting his hat and gravely bowing, assured her he had no such intention; whereupon without uttering another word, she turned and ran into the Litman cabin.
The cabin, built in the days when the family was relatively prosperous, had a spare room for visitors. As it was now sundown the men asked and were given shelter for the night.
Jeanne showed them where their horses were to be stabled; and then went into the house to help with supper. Her grandmother noted that she was very exact in setting the table; getting out the only white cloth they had and doing her best with their meager stock of china to make it attractive. This special attention was due to [pg 12] the lifted hat and formal bow with which John had greeted the child. It was the first time a man had ever tipped his hat to her.
After supper John and Mr. Lockard seated themselves for a smoke on a great rock that jutted into the creek and enjoyed not only the profound repose but the mystic beauty of the scene, which was accentuated by the light of a full moon and the deep shadows made by the trees and mountain.
John, a person of moods and imagination—possibly due to his complex ancestry—gave expression to his thoughts: “How soothing, how delightfully peaceful, how homelike, is this humble home. There is no place here for sorrow and tears, no room for envy, no cause for covetousness or discontent. Some people, and I believe I am one, might be happy here, happier than in a city, just getting his part of the sunlight, just breathing his part of this untainted air.”