CARTHAGE, Mo. — I once served bowls of turnip soup, seasoned with a dash of nutmeg and a dollop of sour cream, to a group of women as the first course to an authentic pioneer meal at Kendrick House. While I received several baleful looks as the soup was served, at least some of the bowls came back to the kitchen clean.

It’s my guess that turnips are way down the list of people’s favorite vegetables. Still, with a little bit of butter or bacon fat, a smidgen of sugar, and salt and pepper, my mother could do wonders with this often-maligned root.

Fall is turnip season. Each year around this time, I’m reminded of a story, originally told to me by former courthouse officials, involving turnips, pranksters and the Jasper County Courthouse lawn in the fall of 1933. The previous year, President Herbert Hoover had set up the Reconstruction Finance Corp. to provide more than $1 billion in federal money to initiate projects that would increase employment and help communities recover from the 1929 stock market crash.

Some of that help had arrived in Carthage in the form of a beautification project (matched with county money) for the courthouse lawn. As work on the retaining wall and filling in of the lawn neared completion, several men, including Judge Tom Phelps, jokingly discussed what a good turnip bed it would make. August “Augie” Brueggemann, a stone mason who had been working on the wall, took the joking seriously. He bought 4 pounds of turnip seed from Earl Tucker’s seed store, claiming that the county judges had approved the purchase and that he had pledges from businessmen (including Mayor K.E. Baker) to pay for the seed.

Despite Tucker’s protest to Brueggemann that he was the butt of a joke and that he had no purchase order from the county, he sold him the seed and even provided a seed planter to accomplish the task. The first seeds were planted so thickly that another 4 pounds had to be purchased and sown — altogether enough to plant about eight acres!

Phelps took the episode in a joking manner, noting that a bed of turnip greens in the heart of the business district gave support to the Democratic Party platform; its theme song for the November election was “Turnip Greens.” Phelps said, “I’ve even been offered a dollar for a bushel of the turnips, and they’ll certainly furnish a good many messes of fine greens.” But when Brueggemann claimed that Phelps had instructed him to buy the seed, the judge denied it and said the county would not pay the $4 cost, leaving Tucker “holding the bag,” so to speak.

Judge John H. Flanigan, who was in charge of the RFC project, said Brueggemann had asked him for workers to help plant the seed, and he complied without giving it much thought. Judge Harve Dixon, upon learning of the planting, said that if Carthage people wanted turnips planted on the lawn, it was not up to him to object. After listening to some protests from residents who thought a turnip patch in downtown Carthage was a bad idea, Dixon tried to stop the work. By that time, however, the bulk of the seed had been planted and watered. It was believed by some, but never proved, that part of the planting had been done surreptitiously the night before.

Noting that the whole affair had started as a joke, Mayor Baker vowed not to welsh on his $1 pledge to Brueggemann. Taking a practical view, Baker suggested that the turnip crop could be harvested and given to the needy of Carthage.

Dealing with the aftermath of the incident fell to J. Ed Rutter, a county farm agent who was to have been in charge of seeding the grass on the lawn. He said the turnip tops would need to be hoed as they came up if any grass seeding were to be done that fall.

Sadly, I don’t know the outcome of the turnip story, but I’m sure we would have some photographic evidence somewhere if the crop had ever come to fruition. While I love beautiful lawns, I lean toward Mayor Baker’s solution. Those turnips would have tasted great with some bacon fat — maybe even in turnip soup!