It’s a name that sticks. French Lick. It sounds like a punchline to a joke from the 1920s, but for anyone who has spent a lifetime in the Midwest, it’s a place of heavy gravity. When you’re scanning the local papers or scrolling through digital archives and you see French Lick in obituaries, it usually isn’t just a birthplace. It’s a marker of a specific kind of American life that doesn't really exist anymore.
People lived there. They stayed there. Then, they moved to Indianapolis or Louisville or Chicago for work, but they always made sure the newspaper back home knew where they ended up.
Most folks outside of Indiana only know the town because of Larry Bird. "The Hick from French Lick." It’s a great nickname. It’s also a bit of a disservice to a town that was once the "Las Vegas of the Midwest," a place where Al Capone supposedly hid out and where the elite came to drink smelly sulfur water they called "Pluto Water." When you see a mention of French Lick in obituaries, you’re often looking at the final footprint of someone who lived through the town’s many reincarnations—from the glamour of the mineral springs to the quiet decline of the mid-century, and finally to its current status as a restored resort destination.
The Geography of Memory in Southern Indiana
Why does this specific town pop up so frequently in funeral notices? Honestly, it’s about the diaspora. During the early to mid-20th century, French Lick and its twin town, West Baden, were booming. The hotels—the French Lick Springs Hotel and the West Baden Springs Hotel—were massive employers. If you lived in Orange County, you probably worked there, or your dad did, or your aunt ran a boarding house for the tourists.
When the Great Depression hit, and later when the mid-century travel habits changed, people left. They followed the manufacturing jobs. But that connection to the "Valley" never really snapped.
You’ll notice a pattern in these records. A typical entry might read: "Born in French Lick, 1934; graduated from Springs Valley High School; moved to Gary for the steel mills." The obituary serves as a bridge. It connects the industrial life of the north with the rural, mineral-springs roots of the south. For genealogists, searching for French Lick in obituaries is often the "smoking gun" that links a family back to the agrarian South or the European immigrants who came to work in the grand hotels.
The Pluto Water Legacy
You can't talk about French Lick without talking about the water. It’s weird. It’s sulfurous. It smells like rotten eggs. But for decades, it was marketed as a miracle cure.
"If Nature Won't, Pluto Will." That was the slogan.
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In older obituaries, you might see mentions of the "Pluto Bottling Plant." Working there was a badge of honor. It was a global brand. Seeing that in a death notice isn't just a career highlight; it’s a timestamp of an era when Indiana was the center of the "wellness" world long before that was even a buzzword. It’s fascinating how a town of roughly 1,700 people can carry so much historical weight in a single line of newsprint.
Why French Lick in Obituaries Matters for Genealogists
If you are digging through Ancestry.com or FamilySearch and you keep hitting that Orange County wall, you have to understand the record-keeping quirks of the region. French Lick wasn't just a town; it was a hub.
Many people who claimed French Lick as their home in an obituary actually lived in surrounding townships like Northwest, French Lick, or Jackson. But because French Lick had the "big" name, that’s what made it into the papers. It’s a common shorthand.
Kinda like how someone from a tiny suburb says they’re from "Chicago" so they don't have to explain where Elmhurst is.
Finding the Right Records
- The Springs Valley Herald: This is the gold mine. It has been the heartbeat of the community for ages. If you're looking for a deep dive into a family tree, this is where the "real" stories are. Not just the dates, but the "he was a member of the Odd Fellows Lodge" or "she was known for her prize-winning pies at the Orange County Fair" details.
- The Southern Indiana Genealogical Society: These folks are the gatekeepers. They’ve spent decades indexing these records.
- WPA Records: During the 1930s, the Works Progress Administration did a massive job of indexing Indiana births, marriages, and deaths. If an obituary mentions a birth in French Lick before 1920, cross-referencing with WPA indexes is usually your best bet for verification.
Researching French Lick in obituaries also requires an understanding of the local "shorthand." If an obit mentions "The Valley," they aren't talking about California. They’re talking about the specific geographic basin that holds French Lick and West Baden.
The Larry Bird Effect and Cultural Identity
It’s impossible to ignore. Larry Bird put French Lick on the map for a whole generation of people who wouldn't know Indiana from Indonesia. But in the local obituaries, you see the real version of that story. You see the names of his classmates, his coaches, and the people who sat in the stands at the old gym.
There is a sense of fierce pride in these documents.
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An obituary from this area often reads like a defiant statement of identity. Even if the person spent 50 years in Florida, the lead sentence almost always anchors them back to the Valley. It’s a "hometown" in the purest sense of the word.
A Town of Two Faces
You have the "Grand Hotel" history—the wealthy travelers, the gambling (which was technically illegal but thrived for years), and the jazz. Then you have the "Limestone and Timber" history—the hard-scrabble reality of living in the hills of Southern Indiana.
Obituaries often reflect this duality. You’ll find one person who was a high-society hostess at the hotel and another who was a stone carver or a logger. Both are "French Lick," but they lived in two different worlds that just happened to share a zip code.
When you see a mention of French Lick in obituaries today, it often reflects the newer generation—the people who saw the town decline in the 70s and 80s and then witnessed the massive multi-million dollar restoration of the hotels in the early 2000s. It’s a town that refuses to die, and the residents' life stories reflect that resilience.
Practical Steps for Researching French Lick Ancestry
So, you found a name. You found the town. What now?
Don't just stop at the text of the obituary. Digital archives are great, but they are often incomplete for rural Indiana. You’ve got to get specific.
1. Check the Libraries Directly
The Melville and Elizabeth Beaty Library in French Lick is a tiny treasure trove. They have local history files that aren't digitized. If you can’t visit, calling a local librarian is often more productive than ten hours on Google. They know the families. They know who married whom in 1954.
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2. Look for the "Out of Town" Notices
Because French Lick was a resort town, people often died there while visiting. If you find a mention of French Lick in obituaries for someone who lived in New York or St. Louis, check the dates. They were likely there for "the season" or for health treatments at the springs. These aren't residents; they’re "Pluto Water pilgrims."
3. Analyze the Cemeteries
Most people mentioned in these obituaries end up in Mount Lebanon, Moores Ridge, or the Ames Chapel Cemetery. These graveyards are historical records in themselves. The iconography on the headstones—especially for those who worked in the limestone industry—is incredibly detailed.
4. Use the "Springs Valley" Keyword
When searching digital databases like Newspapers.com or Chronicling America, don't just search for "French Lick." Search for "Springs Valley." That is the school district and the collective name for the community. You’ll catch about 30% more results that way.
The reality of French Lick in obituaries is that it represents a microcosm of the American experience. It’s a place of extreme luxury and extreme rural poverty, all tied together by a stinky mineral spring and a love for basketball. Whether you’re a historian, a genealogist, or just someone curious about the names that pop up in the back of the paper, understanding this town’s context changes how you read those final tributes.
If you’re tracking a family member, look for the small details—the church names, the lodge memberships, and the specific hotel departments where they worked. Those are the breadcrumbs that lead back to the heart of the Valley.
Start by verifying the dates against the Indiana State Library’s online obituary index. From there, reach out to the Orange County Historical Society to see if there are any mentions of the family in their quarterly newsletters. Often, the best stories aren't in the formal notice, but in the "local gossip" columns that ran in the same paper fifty years earlier.