Corbin, KY: Home of KFC (And Its Many Legends)

By now, even those who are not exactly a fan of Kentucky Fried Chicken probably know a great deal about its origin story. Yet for every timeworn, heartwarming chestnut, like how Colonel Sanders roamed the countryside peddling his recipe, there are facts you get the feeling were intentionally glossed over in the name of a good marketing angle (for example how it was another fast food legend entirely who really made KFC a household name) and still others that have only been obscured by the passage of time (the first restaurant was opened in Kentucky, you bet your sweet bippy…but the second, most folks don’t realize, opened its doors in Asheville, North Carolina.)

Many of you are probably not aware that it was Dave Thomas of Wendy’s fame, an early employee, who really took the reins and ran with them, as far as turning this concept into a powerhouse. This came at a time when they only had a handful of locations – you could literally count them on one hand – just one of which was actually located in Kentucky. Thomas’s belief in the brand saved this chain, as the investors themselves were all getting spooked, thinking about cutting their losses and getting out, and even the famed Colonel himself was basically telling Dave he was nuts.

Oh, but that flagship store! Located in Corbin, Kentucky, then as now it is a sight to behold. The restaurant portion of the original location remains up and running to this day, and is a marvel worth visiting for any fan of this fast food franchise, or for that matter even just American history. It’s a fascinating pit stop, in particular the attached, free of charge museum – and the reason I say “restaurant portion” is because in its earliest incarnations, Sanders had a motel and a gas station included in the mix, which I wasn’t even aware of before coming here.

I recently made my maiden voyage here on a Sunday morning, timing it to arrive just as they opened at ten. Ten o’clock on a Sunday morning feels like a strange time to be eating KFC, particularly as I fall into the American history fan category myself and do not ordinarily eat this company’s offerings. Today’s visit marks my first in at least a good fifteen years. With a few minutes to spare, after parking, I walk around and shoot numerous footage of this impressiving looking, retro exterior.

The initial, unable to miss sights to greet you include a large streetside sign with the iconic Kentucky Fried Chicken name, saying IT ALL STARTED IN CORBIN, with a state-shaped backdrop; a smaller drive thru sign with an arrow pointing the way and more modestly proclaiming It all started here; and then finally, the true showpiece, a much taller one, nearer the restaurant, with a big yellow arrow, its tiny lights blinking to life with a wave, and the iconic rotating chicken bucket which has long since disappeared everywhere else. Off to the side, decommissioned old school gas pumps give you some idea of what this site looked like in its formative years. The building itself meanwhile is painted an attractive red and white, bearing the diagonal legend along one side, next to the Colonel’s grinning likeness, saying “Welcome To Harland Sanders Cafe & Museum. The Birthplace Of The Original Recipe.” Finally, a modest yellow sign dangles at the opposite end, bearing the name Sanders Cafe, which was (sort of) the original title of his restaurant concept.

Once I step inside, though they’ve only been open a few minutes, there are already a handful of patrons in line ahead of me. And though ostensibly a retro site, this is paradoxically striking me as the most clean and modern looking of their locations that I’ve ever set foot inside. One other interesting touch is that rather than the trademarked red and white getups that they are known for, the employees here wear blue polo shirts and ballcaps. I don’t know the meaning behind this, but the color scheme, dark blue with white lettering, seems to match that of the University of Kentucky, and I’m guessing there’s a connection. Also, the logo on the hats, in white, is shaped like that goofy looking pi-symbol-shaped tie that Sanders used to wear (and Thomas too, actually – he went through a phase dressing just like the Colonel. Yes, totally.)

I order a fried chicken sandwich combo and sit down with my order, fearing the worst. Numerous streetside windows overlook the exterior, not that there’s a ton to see out there, on a quiet highway, in this sleepy little town. And I’m pleasantly surprised to discover the food here is not the least bit horrendous, does not rock my gut in the slightest, is actually quite good. So maybe they’ve refined “the” recipe since my last visit, or else a location this prominent elevates their game above all others.

After this, it’s time to tackle the museum proper. A life-sized statue of the Colonel is all but expected, and greets you early on, though far more compelling treasures await. Video screens running old commercials and documentary footage are fascinating enough that I would probably pay to watch them, or at least make me wish there were dining tables bolted right in front of these puppies, to view while enjoying your meal. There’s a model motel room, made to resemble those from that portion of the Sanders trifecta, although the signs posted nearby are arguably much more intriguing. If I’m reading this right, they didn’t just plant this here in the museum – it sounds instead as though the model motel room was always here, in the middle of the original restaurant, to entice diners into renting one. Then again, I think you can tell even from this remarkably lifelike statue that Harland certainly had his kooky crackpot side, so that concept should come as no surprise.

A train-set-sized mockup of the original compound makes for another pleasant, if more conventional, show piece. And then up next, at long last, is the much ballyhooed vault, locked tight and bearing the Colonel’s pi-shaped-tie official seal, declaring the secret recipe has been stored right here since 1940. Like most American legends, however, this is mostly marketing and/or mythologizing b.s. with maybe a few dashes of original truth sprinkled atop, and a side dish of some earnest confusion. It’s true that nobody involved with KFC to this day has ever revealed the original recipe, which has remained more or less unchanged all these years; however, the exact formula is stored at corporate headquarters in Louisville, and this vault is just for show.

Having said that, even by fast foods standards, Kentucky Fried Chicken does have an especially convoluted history – and if reading their Wikipedia page, you will become even more confused than before. There they attempt cutting out Dave Thomas almost entirely for some reason, and state that the first franchise was opened in Utah. This might be true, although it appears that what they mean by “franchise” is that some restaurant out there began using his recipe, which Sanders was of course traipsing across the country to peddle. At any rate, this picture is further muddied in that his own restaurants underwent numerous name changes, at first calling themselves Sanders Court & Cafe, then some dabbling with variations of a totally baffling Hobby Ranch House moniker in conjunction with another business owner. It was still another marketing whiz entirely who then came up with the Kentucky Fried Chicken name and its “finger lickin’ good” slogan. And even in more recent times, we’ve seen dedicated measures to rebrand themselves simply as KFC, attempt shying away from the Kentucky and most definitely the Fried aspects of their trademark.

But I find the tangible artifacts of its history, the metaphorical pieces inside these buckets, to be much more interesting anyway, than quibbling over what came first and where. And you surely will as well. Some of these rooms are simply stunning to behold, infinitely more so when you stroll inside to scrutizine them in greater detail. Here I’ll stick to the wider shots and leave most of the mysteries to await your eventual visit. But I will say I found a glass case piled in overflowing fashion with various food containers through the years to be its most moving display – right beside an interactive exhibit titled History Of The Bucket – due to its many mind-numbing and often hilarious permutations, like for example this crocheted Christmas themed sleeve you were apparently able to purchase to slide over said buckets. Also this touching tribute to the red and white striped outfits, with a photo of three female employees wearing this getup way back when, right here in Corbin.

Whatever the case, rest assured there is a borderline insane amount of fine detail for the visitor to pore over here, which these photos can’t even begin to serve justice to. You can easily kill an hour here wandering about and reading these numerous exhibits – perhaps the perfect amount of time to let your meal settle and determine there are no issues on that front, before hitting the road again. In summary, while I would say this is by no means substantial enough to warrant a cross-country odyssey of its own (and at any rate, if that obsessed, then you have probably already done so), if you ever happen to find yourself in this neck of the Kentucky bluegrassed woods, then it’s pretty much a required visit.