“AIRMAIL!” someone shouts as a projectile goes flying through the air. No, it’s not a basketball and no, this is not a new way of poking fun at a bad shot à la “airball.” Instead, this cry accompanies the greatest achievement in the sport of … cornhole.
Airmail is the cornhole equivalent of making a hole-in-one during a round of golf or slam-dunking a basketball: It’s when one (underhandedly) throws a bag that sails through the air and plops directly into the hole on the opposite board. And though this feat might make you a legend among tailgaters, you would probably only be given a few moments of praise among professional cornholers.
Now a professional sport — complete with three competing institutions — cornhole was born of murky origins. Remnants of early cornhole, its predecessors and its contemporaries are woven through recorded histories traversing the United States, but muddled tall tales also abound.
Take that of 14th-century Matthias Kuepermann, supposedly a German cabinetmaker. The tale posits that Kueperman created a safer alternative to a dangerous children’s game he had witnessed, which happened to resemble modern cornhole. Although corn became too expensive in Germany for the game to continue, speculation follows that German people kept the idea in their hearts and brought it to America upon immigration.
Another tale is that of Midwestern (perhaps Kentuckian) farmer Jebediah McGillicuddy, who is often credited with cornhole’s invention. Although his title as the creator of cornhole is contested, his last name is notable: McGillicuddy is an anglicized version of an Irish last name (Mac Giolla Chuda), making him one of the many Americans with Irish heritage.
In Illinois, the story of cornhole is connected not with immigrants but with Indigenous peoples. Often incorrectly cited as the “Blackhawk tribe”, the Sauk tribe (of which Blackhawk was a leader) has connections to cornhole’s past. Today the Sauk nation’s descendants are split into three federally recognized groups – the Sac & Fox Nation (Oklahoma), the Sac & Fox Nation of Missouri in Kansas and Nebraska, and the Sac & Fox Tribe of the Missouri in Iowa. But in the 18th century, the Sauk’s main village Saukenuk was located in Illinois, where the Sauks grew crops such as corn, and perhaps their association with the game grew alongside their harvest. In any case, due to cornhole’s scoring system closely resembling European horseshoes, historians have some doubts about whether cornhole as we know it today is a descendant of a Native American game.
Nonetheless, it’s not too far-fetched to believe that cornhole — or cornhole-like games — has evolved from a number of cultural influences that make up America’s wide-ranging identity.
“I grew up in a small farming and logging town in northern Wisconsin, and there were a fair number of Ojibwe, or Indigenous people, around, as well as French Indian, and then folks from all over Europe,” Dr. James Leary, professor emeritus of folklore and Scandinavian studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and a co-founder of the Center for the Study of Upper Midwestern Cultures, said. “There was all kinds of different food and music and dialect humor and interesting, just customary practices and all that going on.”
While the cultural origins of cornhole may be murky, more recent history paints a clearer picture. Leary said there are two different types of game playing: informal games present in varying cultures that are passed around between people and distinctly children, and formal games that are often introduced institutionally.
“There’s very little doubt in my mind that institutional forces were behind this game from the late 19th century through well into the 20th century, and it happened through schools and summer recreation programs,” Leary said.
Documents reveal recorded examples of institutional forces’ role in cornhole’s development.
For instance, an 1890 edition of the “American Agriculturist” published in New York records the standards, set-up and scoring of “The Game of Bean-Bags.” The version includes a “Jumbo” bag, which is filled with more beans and counts for more points than the regular sized bags, and an elevated board with only one hole; however, it does not explain the upper margin of points required to win. Four years later, a description of the game was recounted in “Eureka Entertainments” by the Philadelphia based Penn Publishing Company, as “suitable to all kinds of public and private occasions.”
The 1898 “School Journal” published by E.L. Kellogg & Co. based in both New York and Chicago describes three bean bag games. “Bean Bag Game No. 1” is nearly indistinguishable from cornhole, utilizing a “hinged” board with one hole, and “Bean Bag Game No. 2” is reminiscent of cornhole in that participants are encouraged to throw bags into holes, excepting that its board contains three holes. “Bean Bag Game No. 3” has participants pass bean bags along a row.
A 1911 publication issued by the State of Wisconsin superintendent, C.P. Cary, entitled “Plays and Games for Schools” describes 10 different “Bean Bag Games” that can be played at school, both inside and outside. The first game described as “Bean Bag Board” appears akin to cornhole, as it involves a “slanted” board and encourages players to throw bean bags through holes. Still, its scoring system and inclusion of numerous holes deviates from modern cornhole.
A 1956 article from the Sheboygan Press detailing summer playground contests declares contest winners for both “bean bag singles” and “bean bag mixed doubles.” The two categorizations of the bean bag contest are reminiscent of today’s cornhole, which can be played individually or in pairs.
Then in 1974, Popular Mechanics published an article by Carolyn Farrell that explained the rules and building directions for a game called “Bean-bag bull’s-eye.” The game resembles modern cornhole in its presentation of the 21-point system and the “wiping-out” of opponents’ points.
“Obviously, it’s the same game,” Leary said. “Fundamentally, it’s a game that’s been around as ‘the beanbag game’ for well over a century, and likely before that.”
Others connect the history of cornhole to the game of horseshoes. Echoing Kuepermann’s cornhole origin story, some observe that perhaps cornhole — a game played with light fabric sacks filled with corn or plastic — took over from its predecessor horseshoes — a game played with heavy metal horseshoes and stakes — as a safer and easier alternative, especially for children and older adults.
Horseshoes itself is closely linked with the game of quoits, which dates back historically to the Ancient Greeks and Romans. In quoits, metal rings are thrown around pins separated by a field. As quoits is and was played in England and Wales, it is possible that the game arrived in America with British colonists and evolved into horseshoes.
Illinois and particularly the city of Chicago have made their own contribution to cornhole, but they know it by another name. Chicagoan Heyliger Adams De Vvindt filed a patent in 1883 for “an improved game-board” used for parlor-quoits, which includes a recognizable inclined board with one opening — though it also features a “suspended bell.” Today, however, citizens of Chicago are likely to call cornhole “bags” or some derivative of that name. Calling the game cornhole — an antiquated, crude term — is a source of contention. Some believe that its name is responsible for its rapid recreational growth in the mid-2000s, while others see it as a stumbling block the game must overcome. Whatever your perspective, Chicagoans forego this conversation by simply sticking to “bags.”
Some Cincinnatians see their beloved city as modern cornhole’s hotbed. But early in cornhole’s contemporary rise, Cincinnati was divided in its embrace of the game. In a 2002 article, Shannon Russell said opinions on cornhole followed the bounds of the long-standing East Side-West Side division of the city. West Side residents were early adopters and even possible creators of cornhole, while the East Side was more confused by the phenomenon. Officially bisected by Vine Street, Cincinnati’s neighborhoods diverge culturally, with the East Side seen as more white collar and the West Side as blue collar.
Yet, conflicting views on cornhole in the Queen City seem to have changed by 2021, when Kathrine Nero wrote an article declaring cornhole “the perfect Cincinnati pastime.” Perhaps the unification in that 20-year gap occurred at Cincinnati Bengals games, where the game is popular at tailgates. Although Paycor Stadium is located on one side of Vine Street, Cincinnatians like Wayne Box Miller have noticed the connecting power of a hometown football team.
From Cincinnati, contemporary cornhole spread through migration of and interaction with Ohioans. A 2011 New York Times article recounting the spread of cornhole to New York City, takes note of Bill Hemmer, a Cincinnati transplant in New York City who found cornhole in his hometown and then brought it to his NYC friends and coworkers. Additionally, the article chronicles cornhole’s rise among the hipster enclave of Brooklyn.
Despite conflicting accounts of where the game started, Cincinnati has certainly laid claim to the game. Emblematic of cornhole’s reanimated growth is the founding of the American Cornhole Association (ACA) in 2003 in Cincinnati, Ohio. The American Cornhole Organization (ACO) followed quickly on the Association’s tail, with its development in 2005 in Milford, Ohio (about half an hour outside Cincinnati). Ten years later, however, the American Cornhole League (ACL) — arguably the most successful of the three — was established in Rock Hill, South Carolina.
All three attempt to establish standardized rules for cornhole, but differ in their approach. The ACA’s website now primarily acts as a store for “official” cornhole gear while the ACO and ACL are focused on creating professional cornhole players and promoting their own tournaments. The ACL, however, is uniquely backed up by the support of Johnsonville, Mike’s Hard Lemonade Co. and Bush’s Best, has some tournaments aired on ESPN and ESPN2, and is working to mold cornhole into an Olympic sport.
A complicated history paves the way toward cornhole’s cluttered present. But the narratives which shape cornhole are an integral part of understanding its past, present and future standing in our culture and society.
The stories told about cornhole harken to America’s broad foundations and its melting pot of identities. Yet, like the story of America itself — oftentimes told in half truths, untruths and not-quite-truths — cornhole’s origins seem destined to remain behind the veneer of tales spread by cornhole blogs across the internet.
“A lot of the original flavor of the stories circulating in oral tradition is abandoned or radically altered to appeal to kind of a broad audience. And oftentimes it’s easier to just let your imagination go and make up something that sounds kind of groovy and romantic and entertaining rather than stick to the the less thrilling facts — or the lack of them — because the farther you go back, the more origins tend to vanish,” Leary said.
Still, cornhole continues to thrive — seen at tailgates, bars and outdoor gatherings across the country — as it ascends beyond its complicated past. Contending individuals and organizations are united in an appreciation for the accessibility and inclusivity of cornhole and write-ups continually preach that the game can be played and enjoyed by most everyone.
“This is something with relatively simple rules and simple equipment that could be set up in almost any context,” Leary said.
