Floyd's chain-wrapped casket and mural depicting his reburial in 1989. Note small size of crowd.

Floyd Collins Museum

Cave City, Kentucky

There's a Cave City historical marker on the road to Mammoth Cave for a lesser hole in the ground, Sand Cave. The only reason Sand Cave merits a marker is because Floyd Collins -- celebrated on his tombstone as the "Greatest Cave Explorer Ever Known" -- was trapped and died there in February 1925.

Viewpoint at the entrance to Sand Cave.

Back then Floyd's name was synonymous with tourism, but as time passed he was forgotten by the attraction industry. Then in 1989 Becky and Larry Bull bought a canoe rental business only a quarter-mile from Sand Cave, and decided to turn the large house across the street into a bed and breakfast. They didn't know a thing about Floyd. But constant questions by visitors about the marker prompted the Bulls to do their research, and on the first floor, just off of the lodge room, they built the Floyd Collins Museum.

Floyd's severed leg was later stolen and never recovered.

Museum display exaggerates the size of Floyd's death rock.

Briefly, Floyd Collins was a Kentucky backwoods boy who'd discovered nearby Crystal Cave and turned it into a profitable commercial attraction. In 1925 Floyd was exploring Sand Cave, a wet rathole overlooked by most locals. He believed that the cave might have tourist-worthy potential, and maybe even a passage into the massive Mammoth Cave system.

Floyd was worming his way through a tight cave crawl when a little rock -- now on display in the National Cave Museum -- fell out of a wall and wedged against his foot. He was only 150 feet from the entrance, but he couldn't get out.

Floyd had only one light, was ill-clothed, didn't have a protective helmet, and was exploring alone. Don't forget, now -- this is the Greatest Cave Explorer Ever Known.

Relatives eventually noticed that Floyd was missing, and a search of all of the local holes eventually confirmed the worst. The ensuing rescue effort and publicity carnival lasted for weeks and captured the ghoulish interest of the entire nation, via the relatively new medium of radio.

No smiles in the Floyd Collins Museum.

The rescuers tried everything to free Floyd: digging and hacking at the passageway, sinking a new shaft, sending skinny reporter Skeets Miller into the cave to chronicle the drama. A passage just above Floyd eventually collapsed, cutting him off for his last few days. As the historical marker matter-of-factly states, his plight "Aroused sympathy of nation." But by the time Floyd was finally reached, he was dead.

Floyd's leg was temporarily cut off, his body removed and buried -- and then dug up and displayed in a glass-topped coffin in Crystal Cave for many years. After some vandalism, in which his body was stolen -- and later found in a nearby field (missing the leg) -- he was placed in a Crystal Cave casket wrapped in chains. You could get a peek if you gave a tip to the tour guide, who would lift the lid. The National Park Service eventually absorbed Crystal Cave and closed it to the public. In 1989, the same year that the museum opened, the family had Floyd re-buried in Flint Ridge Cemetery.

Mourner points to an exact replica of Floyd's tombstone.

The museum chronicles the rescue attempt in a series of stuccoed, cave-like alcoves. The final chamber contains a duplicate of his theft-proof chained casket. Low-wattage candle bulbs flicker, adding to the claustrophobic sense that you're trapped along with Floyd. You can sign the stucco-dusted guest register, filled with names, near a copy of his tombstone.

The real tombstone is in a cemetery on the National Park grounds, next to the old Mammoth Cave Baptist Church. A little further up the road you can park and walk 1.5 miles to the old Crystal Cave ticket booth and entrance. Proceed at your own risk; the National Park folks aren't encouraging visits, and the ghost of Floyd may still be out looking for his leg.