Bonfield’s “Rhummy Rebellion”

By Jack Klasey

July 19, 2025

In late January 1938, fame (of a sort) was “in the cards” for the tiny Kankakee County village of Bonfield. A United Press wire service story that appeared on page 1 of the January 27 edition of the Kankakee Republican-News reported, “A ‘rhummy rebellion’ brewed in the ‘sinless village’ of Bonfield last night….[Mayor Reuben] Orwig and his six aldermen put rhummy on the blue  law list—in a community of 116 souls, without a railroad, but with laws against hard liquor, beer, dance halls, pool rooms and Sunday baseball—on complaint of village housewives that they were fast becoming ‘rhummy widows.’” The village leaders also noted that the card games were “giving the town a bad name.”

At issue was the regular gathering of local men in the village’s ice cream parlor to play the card game “rhummy” (a variant spelling of “rummy”) for a dime a hand. Players claimed the most anyone could lose in one night was a dollar, and initially believed that the ordinance was a joke.

Village officials were serious, however: Justice of the Peace Leslie Yeates promised to enforce the card-playing ban to the limit. “Anyone caught in the act of playing rhummy,” he declared, “will be fined $10 and costs.”

Yeates and Mayor Orwig had, at first, planned to let the rhummy addicts taper off by withholding enforcement of the ordinance until February1, then changed their minds and ordered the game banned immediately. “There’s been too much fuss about this already,” Orwig explained.

William Brougham, the village barber and a regular member of the rhummy-playing group, responded to the card game ban: “They can’t do this to us,” he told United Press correspondent Phil Newson. “I think there’s something in the Constitution about it.”

Brougham refused to go so far as to threaten rhummy “speakeasies,” but he was certain that dyed-in-the-wool rhummy players would find a solution. “We can go across the township line and play if we have to,” he declared.

Leo Reigel, owner of the ice cream parlor where the rhummy games were played, said the uproar over the card games “started when some ‘slicker’ from Kankakee came here and then went back and told about a ‘big game’ in Bonfield. He told around about winning $250 in one game—the truth was, he lost 50 cents, and his wife squawked when he asked her for money. No one ever lost more’n 50 cents or so.”

The ice cream parlor owner told the United Press correspondent that he “rather favored” the ordinance banning rhummy games. “All those guys do,” he said, “is sit here all day and play. They never spend any money.”

The January 28 edition of the Republican-News carried a follow-up story on the card game controversy: “A ‘rhummy rebellion’ smouldered underground today as outlawed card players  gathered around their table in a secret hideaway,” the newspaper reported. “‘I had three pairs on the deal and didn’t get a spread,’” one [player] complained as he fished out a dime to pay losses in the game which the town board has placed outside the law.

“The players have refused to bow to Mayor Reuben Orwig and the six board members who added a ban on rhummy games to the blue laws of this ‘sinless village,’ which also denies its 116 inhabitants beer, liquor, dance halls and pool rooms.”

Town barber William Brougham, one of the rebel rhummy players, defiantly declared, “We’re still playing. We’re not doing anything about the ordinance, just letting it ride along. They’ll come around to agreeing with us.” Asked where the card games were now being played, Brougham replied, “The place?  Well now, that’s a secret. It’s kind of a private place.” The barber then “went off to join his cronies behind drawn shades and locked doors in the ‘speakeasy’ card room.”

Who won in the card-playing controversy at Bonfield? Did the “rhummy rebels” win the right to deal the cards and place ten-cent wagers? Or did elected protectors of Bonfield’s morality triumph?

The answer is probably, “Who knows?” A search of the Kankakee Republican-News editions for succeeding weeks failed to turn up any further mention of the “Rhummy Rebellion.”

Jack Klasey is a former Journal reporter and a retired publishing executive. He can be contacted at jwklasey@comcast.net.