Beautiful engraved certificate from the Daniel Boone Fried Chicken issued in 1969. This historic document was printed by Goes Bank Note Company and has an ornate border around it with a vignette of the company's logo of Daniel Boone in a arrowhead. This item has the signatures of the Company's President, Daniel W. Stafford and Secretary, Catherine Stafford and is over 38 years old.
Certificate Vignette
Daniel Boone Fried Chicken Postcard April 09, 2000 - News Article - LV Sun Father fights for son's dignity Ted Binion. Dan Chandler. You've heard everything about one man, nothing about the other. But ask the Clark County district attorney and coroner which name has hounded them more in recent months. Then go further. Ask them which case has elicited more attention from Las Vegas power brokers than any they've ever handled. No contest. Dan Chandler. Coverage of the Binion slaying has oozed from every media pore since the casino heir's death Sept. 17, 1998. The story of Dan Chandler, meantime, offers its own addictive blend of intrigue yet remains unknown. To outsiders. There is also the heritage of a Kentucky legend, Russian roulette, communing with the dead -- and no clear ending. At the heart of the unfinished saga sits -- smolders -- a pure Vegas character in Dan Chandler, as compelling and flawed a protagonist as is depicted in any work of fiction. Only this isn't fiction. These are the numbers that blew apart Dan Chandler's life. May 20, 1993. A 0.46 blood-alcohol content. Crack cocaine pulsed through his body. A .357 caliber handgun. One bullet. One pull of the trigger. The county coroner ruled suicide. As Dan Chandler, now 66, likes to say, "My 15 minutes of fame was extended to several hours because of my daddy. I'm him without the accomplishments." Dan Chandler gave the hustings a shot in 1968 with a bid for Congress. The thrill of taking up the family political banner faded fast. A drubbing by his opponent in the Democratic primary sent Chandler back to the business world. Before he could seriously consider another campaign, life unraveled. Dan and Happy Chandler were named among the defendants in a $3 million damage suit filed in 1970 by stockholders in Daniel Boone Fried Chicken Inc., a Kentucky Fried Chicken knockoff that went belly-up. The case settled out of court. More legal troubles followed. In 1972 a federal judge sentenced Dan Chandler to 30 days in jail and fined him $1,500 for failing to file corporate income tax returns for a company he had co-owned. A week before authorities leveled the misdemeanor charges against Chandler the presidential campaign of U.S. Sen. Edmund Muskie dropped him as its national finance vice chairman. Chandler wound up serving 20 days of his term and discovering a prickly truth about the underside of minor celebrity. The same attribute that afforded him an edge -- his last name -- resulted in a relatively benign offense drawing statewide notice. "People thought Dan Chandler would be the next generation of the Chandler political dynasty and it just didn't work out," Edwards said. "His reputation had been damaged." The bad press convinced Chandler to abandon Kentucky. So, too, did the tacit pressure of great expectations. He needed to stake out his own life. "I caused maximum embarrassment," Chandler said. "I had dirtied up my family's name, even though it was an accident. I embarrassed my daddy, and it was more than I could take. I had to go."