“Grace Lemaster – The Woman In The Well” is a story written by Lydia Justice Edwards and published in the Grayson Journal Enquirer in 2010. Lydia grew up at Star KY, near the base of Star Hill, before moving west and eventually becoming State Treasurer of Idaho. Lydia has given me permission to reproduce her article unedited and complete. It is reproduced below after this short explanatory forward. This is Lydia’s article.
Lydia provided me with the text of the article but did not have the two original photographs used in the newspaper version. These two photos, one of the Lemaster family and one of the Lemaster house, were supplied by Grace O’Neil Lemaster’s son, Edwin Lemaster (1922 – 2019).
My friend Edwin Lemaster died before this interesting article became available to be reproduced here. Edwin Lemaster’s family, including his daughter, Kathryn Lemaster Collins, her husband Sid Collins, and her daughter Heather Murphy, kindly located these Lemaster family photos, scanned them and sent me high resolution files of these two images.
A few years ago I also located a news wire print on eBay of Jack Lemaster, Grace’s husband, standing beside the Carter County Jailer in Grayson KY for questioning. I placed an exact transcription of the text accompanying this wire print in the description below the image.
The photos are inserted in the article copy below. The image I personally sourced on eBay appears at the end of the article, since it did not originally appear in the Grayson Journal Enquirer.
The copy that Lydia provided included an interesting “afterwards” welded to the end of the newspaper copy. This afterward was not in the original news story in the Grayson Journal Enquirer. This is included and clearly labeled as an “afterwards”.
Enjoy! Lon
____________________________________________________________________________
“We expect life is more than the mysteries that confound us. We cannot mourn forever. All the greatest men go on living the best way that they can.”
Edwin Lemaster November, 2010
On the 56th anniversary of his mother’s mysterious death.
Grace Lemaster – The Woman In The Well ——— by Lydia Justice Edwards
Grace Lemaster darted through the dark, across her yard to the edge of the graveled dirt road and stepped into the headlights of a car, waving.
“Can I ride with you? Can you drop me at my sister Edna’s house? On 13th street?”
“I’m already late for my shift. If you’re ready to go now, Grace I can take you.” She patted his arm, and despite his admonition, Grace Lemaster turned and ran back across her yard, over her shoulder, “I have something to take to Edna.”
“I‘m replacing a man on my shift; if we don’t go now, I’ll leave you behind.” When Grace Lemaster did not return promptly, her neighbor sped off to his work at Armco Steel.
It was hog killing weather; chilly and bleak for mid-November in eastern Carter County, Kentucky. For sportsmen it was the first day of quail season; the Journal Enquirer instructed, if you saw a squirrel or a rabbit you could shoot those too.
But for shift workers at the AC Lawrence Tannery or at Armco steel, they faced a full week of work ahead. This meant the workers who lived along Williams Creek road must awake by 4 a.m. That Monday night, one by one the lights blinked out as families retired early.
Popping and cracking sounds of fire disturbed George and Ben Deerfield; they burst awake. “Help. I need help.” The Lemaster home next to theirs was an inferno. Through the shadows, Jack Lemaster staggered toward them, his clothes smoking and steaming. Behind him, flames soared over the roof where Jack lived with his wife, Grace.
They helped him into their house. “But where is Grace?” Jack did not know. When they pressed him, they soon discovered Jack was incoherent. They smelled alcohol.
George Deerfield ran to the Lemaster house. Kicked open the front door, the flames forced him back, he screamed into the smoke. “Grace, Grace are you in there?”
Neighbors hauled buckets of water from their wells but couldn’t get close enough to pour it on. They dumped it in a circle around the house in case the fire spread. It had little effect, as the flames leapt into the sky. And all the while, they asked, “Where is Grace?” Little pockets of volunteers spread out to search for Grace. They dashed into the garage to rescue the new Ford pickup, but there was no key in the ignition. Flames lapped at them as they tried to push it out.
Then they went back to looking for Grace. They scoured the hills and alongside Williams Creek. Had Grace panicked and run off? It was a hot fire. Across Williams Creek road, the heat melted asphalt roof shingles on the Jack Thornsberry home. Jack sent his wife and three children down the road to safety. Wood shakes scorched and curled up on the Deerfield’s house as they splashed well water on their roof through the upstairs windows. None was ignited.
They paced around the flames trying to see inside. Within 45 minutes the six room two-story wood frame house was consumed. Joist by joist it cracked and crashed in on its furnishings. Firewood stacked for the winter and a vat of used motor oil fueled the flames. In the back yard, another storage building caught fire. Their new panel truck dissolved into a burnished shell of twisted metal as the tires melted. When it was over and the flames subsided, like a determined sentinel the red brick chimney stood tall over the rubble of the dwelling. Smokey wreaths encircled its cinder block foundation that still outlined the perimeter of the house, where Grace and Jack had lived since 1925. Where the back porch had been, the well box was intact. It had escaped the fallen beams; the polished tiles had withstood the heat.
They probed the smoldering timbers; raked again and again at the ashes for a clue. They found nothing. As the cinders cooled, they worked closer to the fire but the searchers feared the worst. Where was she? There was no sign of Grace Lemaster.
“I was smoking and if I set the house on fire with that cigarette, God knows I didn’t mean to.” Only Jack remained to answer their questions, but he did not know. Jack did remember it was around 10 p.m. the night before when he topped off a small bottle of Early Times and lit up a cigarette before he sank down on the couch. “I don’t know what happened after that.”
By day break, a large crowd gathered at the home on Williams Creek Road. Word spread; Fred Reeves and Howard Ferguson two young men hitchhiked from Star to help search.
Otis Enyart, one of the first to reach the Lemaster home was by now weary and covered with soot; he leaned over and peered into the well box. It was the only place he hadn’t examined. The well box measured four feet by five feet. It was a dug well with an insert of smooth tiles. The sides rose three feet high off the porch floor. Inside the well, each ring of tile overlapped the lower circle and provided a slick surface. The only relief was a metal pipe bolted onto the inside for support to the well cleaner. Grace Lemaster was fastidious about her well water.
The well was situated on the back porch with boards laid over the top for a lid, but it was burned away. Five feet down in the well, Otis saw white ashes and soot spread like icing on a disheveled cake. They coated burnt ends of the lid. Scorched and still smoldering were beams from the porch roof, lodged against the sides; they broke the surface of the black water but they obscured everything under the water. During the morning school boys had peered into the well but they saw only these black reflections, and nothing else.
In the daylight, Otis eyed the dark abyss and lattice of burned timbers. He called to George Deerfield for a grappling hook. The two men lowered the grabs and waited breathlessly; at first the hook came up empty. Otis dropped it again. This time, the hook snagged the right hand of Grace Lemaster.
“Fellas, here’s the woman,” Otis yelled.” Here she is right here.”
Otis bailed out the water; bucket by bucket until the water table lowered to Grace’s waist. He turned to Fred Reeves, teenage, slim and strong. They tied a rope around Fred and lowered him into the well. In turn Fred secured a rope under her arms. But not before he untangled her left hand from its death grasp on the metal pole inside of the well; rigor mortis held it there. They pulled Fred back. With the help of the rope Otis and George brought Grace Lemaster to the surface. Her husband Jack and his brother Lige Lemaster stood by. Her niece, Mayme Alexander and her sister, Edna Ferguson also watched.
People from miles came to help. Including Teacher Betty Thomas and her twenty six students from the Geigerville grade school near the Williams Creek Road. When Grace was discovered standing in the bottom of her well, the students were there as they lowered Fred Reeves into the well.
Her purse was snug on her elbow where she always kept it. She stood straight in an upright position. Over her hair, she wore a brightly colored scarf tied in a bow knot under her chin. Her eyeglasses were perched on her nose; the temples secured behind her ears. She wore a black topcoat and her good shoes. Clearly Grace Lemaster was dressed to go someplace on that chilly November night. Was she still planning to ride to 13th street with her neighbor on his way to work, but somehow fell into the well? Was something hidden in the well? Or above the well in the rafters?
They measured the well at 15 feet deep with 6.5 feet of water inside. That left only one foot of water over her head. Did Grace Lemaster grasp the pipe until she slipped into the water over her head?
Earlier, they found a floor model lamp with a paper shade, was laid on its side on the grassy bank not far from the well. It was out of place and unusual. Jack identified the lamp as one from Grace’s parlor. Did Grace go back to get this lamp? To take to her sister, Edna on 13th street? But why was it laid near the well box? As it turned out the floor lamp held a blue bulb that Jack told she burned for a night light. It was the only item not destroyed by the fire.
Carter County Sheriff Chester Greenhill arrived with Coroner Clarence Henderson. Jack Lemaster volunteered to take a lie detector test. “Because my mind is pretty much a blank after 10 p.m.” Greenhill arranged for the test at the University of Kentucky. In the meantime, Jack was treated for superficial burns on his face and hands before he left with the Sheriff to Grayson for their trip to Lexington. It was Tuesday, November 16th.
Coroner Henderson removed Grace to* Kings Daughters Hospital for an autopsy. Her Rush neighbors shook their heads in disbelief. How did Grace Lemaster get into her well? Everyone was baffled; there were many opinions but few facts. Her mysterious death was a national news item carried over the Associated Press wires. She was wearing her topcoat, her favorite scarf and eyeglasses and carried her purse over her left arm. Even her stockings with seams up the back were perfectly aligned, AP reported.
In casting about for answers, speculation advanced the notion that Jack and Grace argued over the house and property. But recorded deeds showed Grace had owned the house and property for 25 years. It was her property. Jack Lemaster was a small man, but Grace Lemaster at 61, was rotund and filled out. After rearing her family, she was strong and active. She raised her garden.
Another theory involved a robbery or a home invasion that caused Grace to climb into the well to hide. This was connected to the sound of a loud muffler on a car that lumbered up Williams Creek Road, past Grace’s house, earlier in the night; was later heard to return. But Grace Lemaster was not robbed or molested; she had no bruises or lacerations on her body. She carried $90 in her purse.*
Neighbors in the Rush community candidly reported the Lemasters kept to themselves. They were well respected and industrious. Like the nature of their no nonsense community, nobody knew much about Grace’s business, except she was never without her purse; it was said to contain the deed to her house, and her insurance papers. But, these documents were not in her purse when she died in the well; they were found in a suitcase under the bed at Sister Edna’s home on 13th street.
Grayson Attorney DV Kibby boosted the mystery when he revealed Jack and Grace were divorced two years earlier. “Recently they asked me to petition the court to set aside their divorce judgment. I did.” “Then again,” Kibby said, “Grace telephoned; she wanted to leave the divorce as it stood.” Jack had been working in Columbus at small contracting jobs when he injured his back. He had no one else to turn to. Grace in her generous way, brought him home. This cooperation triggered their plans to set aside their divorce. They had purchased the 1954 model panel truck for Jack to peddle produce.
Grace Lemaster had been dead three days when pathologist Dr. B B Holt at Kings Daughters Hospital completed the autopsy. His report heightened the mystery that remains to this date on the 56th anniversary of her death: How did Grace Lemaster get into the well?
The long awaited autopsy report for this complex case did not answer that question. What they learned was Grace had not drowned in her well. There was no water in her lungs. He estimated Grace died at midnight; three hours before the fire was discovered. She had suffered a ruptured aorta. How long did she cling to the pipe inside the well before her heart gave out?
The water over her head was one foot deep. Not too deep to reach above and to climb out if the slick tiles provided a toe hold. But they did not. It was simple. There were no signs of foul play. And even though Grace Lemaster showed no signs of heart trouble on her previous medical records, she had died of hemopericardium; caused by trauma or fear. And none of these findings answered the baffling question on everybody’s minds: How did Grace Lemaster get into her well?
Fire Marshall Stanley Berger of Catlettsburg confirmed the fire was most likely started with Jack’s cigarette. Jack was never charged for complicity in Grace’s mysterious death. The lie detector cleared Jack absolutely. “He had nothing to do with the death of Grace Lemaster. There was nothing to indicate Jack wasn’t telling the truth,” Sheriff Greenhill declared.
“We’re up against a stone wall.” Sheriff Greenhill turned the mystery over to the Carter County Grand Jury. But, what did he have to give them? He had no case. His only prospect had passed a five hour lie detector test, and the Fire Marshall agreed with Jack: “If I started the fire, God knows I didn’t mean to.” Were these unrelated events? The fire that burned Grace’s house and the cause of her death were not connected after all?
Sheriff Greenhill released Jack to attend her funeral at the Rush Pilgrim Holiness church. Over 300 people came to pay their respects to their enigmatic neighbor; more than the entire population of Rush, Kentucky.
The only notation in the Circuit Court Records for this mysterious death and lingering question was scribbled by a court clerk on December 9, 1954 three weeks after Grace died, at the end of the fall term of the Carter County Grand Jury: The case of Jack Lemaster will be carried over for the next Grand Jury. But it never was brought up again.
Drive to Rosie’s café at the south end of the Rachel Valley, turn onto #854 past the Rush Post Office; there in the fork of the road you are greeted by the Rush Pilgrim Holiness Church. Take a moment, if you can to admire this 100 year old historical community landmark. Circa 1910. It sets on land donated by the pioneer Geiger family. Its peculiar deed directs use of the building be allotted three quarters for the Apostolic Holiness faith and one fourth for the Baptists. With a reversionary clause if these directives are not met.
On its west side, Rush Creek still flows exuberantly. Like the deed for the church, the creek serves as the boundary and a catalyst of friendship and accommodation between Boyd and Carter Counties.
On your left #854 leads through the historic part of Rush, Kentucky often called: Rush Road, the original settlement for coal and iron mines pioneers. On your right, alongside Williams Creek you will enjoy the community where Grace and Jack Lemaster lived with their family. And as well, where so many people who respected and loved Jack and Grace O’Neil Lemaster came to rescue them on that night, Monday, November 15, 1954 – 56 years ago.
—————————————————————————————————————
Lydia’s Afterwards to the newspaper article above.
Mr. Logan called after this story was published to correct two items: 1. She was taken first to the Henderson mortuary. 2. And he wanted to know why I had not mentioned the hundred dollar bills he found. The money was never given to the Lemaster family.
Grace was first taken to Henderson funeral home. She was undressed and examined. Leonard Logan the deputy coroner held her coat.
“I took everything out of her pockets, and passed my hands over her left sleeve where something crumpled and thick responded to my squeeze. I unraveled the seam. There were 3 or more $100 dollar bills sewn into the sleeve. I hand them over to Sheriff Greenhill and Mr. Henderson. I don’t know what happened to them. That’s why I called; you didn’t mention them in your story.”
Update: When Mr. Logan called Edwin Lemaster to discuss this find, Edwin Lemaster had no knowledge of the money. It has never been found. LJE
I called him to thank him. Sunday, December 2010.
Next Article – Rush KY US Post Office Dedication – 25 Oct 1964
Previous Article – Brazella Hollow, Sometimes You Just Get Lucky