Philemon Stout farm (Illustrated Atlas Map Sangamon County, Ill., 1874, via Sangamon Valley Collection)
Philemon Stout knew how to throw a party.
It was 1898, and Stout (1822-1910) had had a good life. He owned nearly 2,000 acres of prime farmland near Cotton Hill. He had served as school trustee, highway commissioner, and justice of the peace. He was a mainstay of the Salem Sugar Creek Baptist Church (which, thanks to him, was also known as “Stout Baptist Church”).
At age 77, Stout felt hale and healthy. But he was 77, and, well, you never know. So Stout decided to hold a picnic at the home place, invite all his friends.
4,000 friends.
“They began arriving early,” the Illinois State Register reported on Aug. 19, 1898, the day after the party.
They came from all points of the compass. The most remote parts of the county were represented, as well as other states and cities far distant. It was probably the largest reception ever given by any one man in the state of Illinois. It is sure that it has never before been equaled or even nearly approached by any similar affair in the good, old county of Sangamon. No matter what your politics were, and no matter to what religious sect you belonged to you were welcome, and nothing was asked but that you should come and have a good time. If you failed to enjoy yourself, and it is safe to say that no one did, it was your own fault.
Philemon Stout Jr., undated (Findagrave.com via Ward Clemence White)
Stout’s hospitality was legendary even before the big picnic. “Uncle Philemon and Aunt Emma (Louisa Brasfield Stout, 1825-1903) are the most royal entertainers in the country,” the Register said. But never before on such a scale.
Grocer George Connelly tallied up the bill – $584 (about $21,000 in 2024). Stout’s cooks butchered and barbecued three steers, six sheep, 50 hams and 2,500 loaves of bread. Guests consumed 275 watermelons, 29 bunches of bananas and 250 pounds of grapes. The food was washed down with 10 barrels of lemonade (Philemon Stout was “a strong advocate of temperance,” a biography said), along with untold gallons of milk, coffee and tea. For dessert, the crowd enjoyed ginger snaps (87 pounds), fig bars (137 pounds), 2,800 other cookies, 1,000 doughnuts and 60 pounds of candy.
Stout paid for 3,600 wooden plates, 500 wooden butter dishes, and 3,000 napkins, along with rolls of muslin and tacks to cover the tables. Decorations included 200 flags. Tumblers, tableware, and “salt saucers” were rented from Connelly, who also provided baskets, buckets, tubs and washing powder for cleanup.
Nothing was left to chance – Connelly’s bill included an 80-cent charge for “16 box toothpicks.” Stout even provided a corn crib, haystacks and grooms for the horse teams that brought guests to the party.
“Everything was as free as the rain that fell from the heavens,” the Register said.
All you had to do was to help yourself, and if you could not reach what you wanted there were 50 waiters there ready and willing to hand it to you. Twelve hundred people were served at a time. The tables were 100 feet long, and it was the busiest looking dinner party that has ever been witnessed in the state.
Entertainment accompanied the food: two vocal groups, the Auburn community band and a recitation by Margaret Brooks (of the Bettie Stuart Institute) of Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poem “The Party.”
The crowd also had to sit through almost a dozen speeches. Probably the most welcome (and apparently one of the shortest) was by Philemon Stout himself. “These grounds are yours,” he said.
We invited you here today as our guests. I want you all to feel that you are free to do and act as you like. Dinner will be served after while and we want you to eat all you want. Your happiness shall be our payment, and as this is the last time we expect to see you all together we want you to enjoy yourselves.
As the final event before dinner, a group of close friends gave Stout a cane made from wood from an apple tree planted on the Stout farm 66 years earlier, five years before Stout’s father, Philemon Stout Sr., bought the land. The inscription on the solid-silver head said, “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.”
“Uncle Philemon stated that he did not use a cane, but he would keep it until he grows old,” the Register reported.
Presumably, the cane eventually got some use: Philemon Stout lived another dozen years. He is buried in Stout Cemetery, on Stout Drive south of East Lake Shore Drive.
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That sounds like a great party!