1 50 5 https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/aeb45ed89706f8aed6581f38aa3defad.pdf e98821bf2abb5144ed41809ae8b32793 PDF Text Text �Recollections of the Catawba Valley by J. Alexander Mull and Gordon Boger Foreword by W.H. Plemmons APPALACHIAN CONSORTIUM PRESS Boone, North Carolina �The Appalachian Consortium was a non-profit educational organization composed of institutions and agencies located in Southern Appalachia. From 1973 to 2004, its members published pioneering works in Appalachian studies documenting the history and cultural heritage of the region. The Appalachian Consortium Press was the first publisher devoted solely to the region and many of the works it published remain seminal in the field to this day. With funding from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and the National Endowment for the Humanities through the Humanities Open Book Program, Appalachian State University has published new paperback and open access digital editions of works from the Appalachian Consortium Press. www.collections.library.appstate.edu/appconsortiumbooks This work is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND license. To view a copy of the license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses. Original copyright © 1983 by the Appalachian Consortium Press. ISBN (pbk.: alk. Paper): 978-1-4696-3837-9 ISBN (ebook): 978-1-4696-3839-3 Distributed by the University of North Carolina Press www.uncpress.org �This page intentionally left blank �This page intentionally left blank �The Appalachian Consortium wishes to express appreciation to the following individuals and institutions for their assistance in the printing of this book: The Appalachian Collection, Belk Library, Appalachian State University Catawba County Historical Museum Crossnore School, Inc. Mr. and Mrs. Albert Deal The News Herald, Morganton, North Carolina David Lane �This page intentionally left blank �Foreword Recollections of the Catawba Valley is a selection of stories chosen from a much longer list of titles by two long-time, well-known citizens of that valley. The late Alex Mull was of one of the first families of that area. Gordon Boger, though born elsewhere, is almost considered native to it. Many of their "Recollections" have appeared before, primarily in The News Herald of Morganton to which each contributed rather regularly. While the stories themselves are classified by the authors and publishers as recollections, some of them are historical in content. Naturally, in such a collection, some are hand-medowns, variations of "thrice-told tales," and a jew of them are not directly related to the Valley, except by authorship. Yet, they are of the same flavor-Appalachia, authentic, and otherwise. Keen reader interest in these "Recollections" will be largely localized in the Catawba Valley and among readers of Morganton's The News Herald where they are on favorite reading lists. But, those of us outside the Valley should not be misled. Lovers of local history, folklorists, storytellers, and those with a yen for piedmont �and mountain flavor will enjoy the contributions of these two good storytellers. They prove that, when combined, good storytelling and good writing make for good reading. Good reading, plus the setting or locale, was the main reason the Appalachian Consortium chose these ..Recollections" for one of its two major publications for this year. It is a worthy addition to similar previous publication contributions of the Consortium through such volumes as Bits of Mountain Speech, A Right Good People, Tall Tales From Old Smoky, and the like. Time spent reading these ..Recollections" will not end when the reading itself has been finished. That time will lengthen and increase continually as you re-read and reflect on ..Recollections." W.H. Plemmons �Table of Contents Before the White Man .................... 1 McDonalds, McDowells, and McPhersons .... 6 The Long, Long Trail ................... 10 Pioneer Farming ........................ 14 Martin's Ghost Still Rides ................. 17 Bechtler's Gold ......................... 20 The Ridge Where Jonas Froze ............. 22 Courthouse Chaos ....................... 26 Hatching a Dream ...................... 31 Fate Lane ............................. 37 Overmountain Men ..................... 42 The Generation Gap ..................... 51 Sun to Sun ............................. 56 Buckeyes for Rumatiz .................... 60 Sayin's and Meanin's ..................... 63 Snake'ing the Kivers ..................... 65 House Raisings and Parlors ............... 70 Much Obliged .......................... 73 Coon Huntin' .......................... 76 The Valley's First Industry ................ 79 �Kickapoo Medicine Company ............. 88 Brown Mountain Spooks ................. 91 The Ice Man ........................... 94 Victorian Foibles ....................... 97 Don't Slam the Door .................... 100 Longjohns and Featherbeds .............. 104 Winning is Everything .................. 107 Child's Play ........................... 110 Tin Lizzies and Whimmey-Dittles ........ 114 Shooting the Anvil ..................... 118 Childhood Memories ................... 121 �This page intentionally left blank �This page intentionally left blank �Before the White Man America was first discovered about twenty thousand years ago by people from Asia, according to information collected by anthropologists. These people crossed the land bridge between Siberia and Alaska in pursuit of the large herds of animals, and followed them into the valleys east of the Rocky Mountains. Here in the Catawba Valley, artifacts have been found that date back 10 to 12 thousand years. These people were hunters and gatherers, using animals for food, clothing, and shelter. They traveled in small family groups, seldom staying long in any one place. It is hard to visualize now what a veritable paradise this Catawba River Valley was in the early days, before the advent of the white man. Virgin forests were loaded down with fruits and nuts. Game animals, birds, and fish of all kinds were plentiful. Abundant rainfall and clear mountain streams guaranteed the annual production of fruits, wild grains, and edible roots. About four to five thousand years ago new ideas in hunting, along with some primitive farming and village life, were developed by these people. About 500 B.C., the Indians in this area 1 �began to make pots of clay to replace those of stone they had previously used. They began to grow fields of corn and vegetables. Instead of wandering in small family groups, they began to settle in permanent or semi-permanent locations, and villages were established. The bow and arrow replaced the spear as their major weapon. Their villages grew in size until they resembled towns. Suddenly, about 1500 A.D., their lifestyle was violently changed. Indians from the south, known as the Invaders, who were better equipped and organized, with copper breastplates, copper axes, and a knowledge of warfare, invaded these tranquil villages and drove the farmers from their homes into the northern and western parts of the state. There they remained until their children and grandchildren obtained guns from the Europeans and drove them back south. Indian tribes were distinguished by different languages, dress, and customs. Each group or village had its own chief and council only loosely affiliated with other groups of the same tribe. They, therefore, were never able to act in a unified fashion against aggression. It has been estimated that if all Indians in America had been united against the white invaders, they could have repulsed the whites with little difficulty. In effect, it would have taken many additional years to conquer them, and they would probably have been able to retain much more of 2 �their own territory. As it was, the various tribes fought each other with the same fierceness they displayed against the whites. In this immediate area there were two major and one minor tribe when the first white settlers began coming into the Catawba Valley area. They were the Cherokee, the Catawba, and the Creek. The Cherokee were the most numerous, industrious, and intelligent. They were also, along with the Creek, the most hostile toward the early settlers. The Catawba, with one exception, were uniformly friendly and helpful to the whites and acted as a barrier against the more hostile tribes. Historians think that the Cherokee were related to the Iroquois and migrated south from the Northern states in search of better hunting grounds. Here in the lush Catawba River Valley and across the South Mountains into South Carolina and Georgia, they found a veritable paradise of game and farming lands. The Catawba River was named for the Catawba tribe, who were perhaps the first to inhabit this area, so an inevitable conflict arose between the Cherokee and Catawba tribes. According to Indian legends, this conflict developed into a full-fledged war over the Catawba Valley that saw hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of warriors killed in battle. The legend is that after this big battle, the chiefs of 3 �the two tribes finally got together to smoke the pipe of peace and to divide the territory between them. The Catawba would occupy the territory east of the river, and the Cherokees claimed that west of the river. It is said that this treaty was never broken by either side. Many people do not know that in the early days the Cherokee Indians had their own farming lands, a republican form of government, and a system of home industries and education. In later years, under the leadership of the great Chief Sequoia, they developed a written alphabet and printing press. It is a matter of record that at least one chief was a friend of Jefferson, Lincoln, and Jackson. Only one vote in Congress prevented the State of Cherokee from becoming a reality. It is also true that this tribe of Indians were our allies during the War of 1812. Let's see how they were rewarded. As our ancestors came to this area in increasing numbers, the Cherokee were pushed further and further westward into the Blue Ridge Mountains by treaty, purchase, and confiscation toward their mortal enemies: the Creeks. Being more numerous, the Cherokee were able to push the Creeks into what is now Tennessee and Kentucky. This left the Cherokee with very little farming land but excellent game country, so they were able to survive. The greed of our ancestors for more and more land con4 �tinued until these people were forced to fight for their very existence. In efforts to preserve peace and gain living space, they sent their Chiefs to Washington to see the "Great White Father," but to no avail. A combination of fear, greed, and propaganda aroused so much feeling that in 1838, the Union Army came to our mountains with orders to remove by force the whole Indian Tribe to what is now Oklahoma. During this forced march, 4,000 Indians died along the way in what has come to be called "The Trail of Tears." Some of the Cherokee chose to risk the death penalty, which had been imposed against those refusing to move, rather than leave their beloved mountains. They hid in coves and rugged peaks of the Nantahalas and other inaccessible retreats until the great hue and cry had died down. Since these rugged hills were worthless for farming, the remaining few Cherokee finally established small huts and villages until the government eventually recognized their right to own land and set aside an Indian Reservation. There are now over 6,000 Cherokee Indians in the Eastern Tribe with nearly half of them living on the Qualla Reservation in Cherokee, North Carolina. 5 �McDonalds, McDowells, and McPhersons They were called "Scotch-Irish," the hardy pioneers who were among the first to settle permanently in the Blue Ridge Mountain country. The Scotch-Irish name, however, is somewhat confusing since these people were not Irish at all. During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, practically all of the Northern Ireland (Ulster) became the property of the English Crown by confiscation, conquest, and the right of Escheat. The Irish who survived were moved to the South of Ireland. During the next fifty years more than 200,000 settlers, mainly from Scotland, occupied this land in the northern part of Ireland. Hence the name "Scotch-Irish," or more accurately, Scotsmen from Ireland. These Scots were Protestant Presbyterians, and they didn't mix well with the hot headed Irish Catholics. The conflict between these two groups has been violent and bloody for centuries, and is still boiling today. The Scots, who have always been noted for their thrift and industry, prospered to such an extent that the merchants in England became jealous and had laws enacted to suppress manufacturing in Ireland. These acts pro6 �hibited the Scots from selling their goods to anyone but England at prices established by the English. These unjust laws, to a great extent, were responsible for the exodus of the ScotchIrish to the New World. Most of the emigrants landed at Philadelphia or Charleston, South Carolina. The Carolinas seem to have been preferred over the more northern areas. In Pennsylvania they ran head-long into the fanaticism of Quakers who had already claimed most of the good farming lands. From there, like many others before them, they turned south to less populous areas. Some stopped off in the Shenendoah Valley of Virginia, while others continued into North Carolina where they met up with the Scotch-Irish who had landed at Charleston. Both groups moved north and west into the upland counties of the Carolinas. The first battle of the American Revolution was actually fought in Alamance County, North Carolina by a group of Scotch-Irish who called themselves the "Regulators." They were defeated by Colonel William Tryon, then the Royal Governor of this province, on the banks of Alamance Creek in 1771. Later, some of these same men signed the famous Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence. No less than six of the signers bore the name of Alexander, and a host of others were likewise of Scottish descent. In 1784, after an agreement with the 7 �Cherokee, Samuel Davidson, with his wife, infant daughter, and a slave, crossed the Swannanoa Gap and built his home on Christian Creek. In settling here he became the first white man to settle west of the Blue Ridge. It was a custom in those days to turn your horse or cow out to graze at night with a bell attached to the animal's neck so they could be found in the morning. On one such morning he went early to get his horse and followed the sound of the bell all the way to the top of the mountain where he was ambushed and killed by Indians. They had removed the bell from the horse and lured Davidson to their hiding place. When his wife heard the shots, she divined what had happened. She took her infant daughter and slave and walked sixteen miles to the settlement, to what is now Old Fort. There, a posse was organized which caught the raiding party, killed several of them, and drove theremainder into the hills. Only a few months after the murder of Davidson, his twin brother, William, with his brother-in-law, John Alexander, together with James and Thomas Alexander, came back over the mountains and founded on Bee Tree Creek what became known in history as the Swannanoa Settlement. This opened the way for additional exploration and settlement of the Blue Ridge Country. At the close of the Revolutionary War, the 8 �state of North Carolina owed much money to her soldiers which she couldn't pay in cash, so many thousands of acres of land in what is now Tennessee were awarded to those who fought in the War. Thus, the flow of emigrants continued westward until the Scotch-Irish can now be found in every state in the Union. In 1827, a wagon road, called the Buncombe Turnpike, was completed to the Tennessee line connecting the frontier towns of Knoxville and Nashville to the markets in the South. This became a very popular road for the settlers of the day, as reported in an Asheville paper in 1898, that more than 150,000 hogs annually traveled through Asheville on the way to Southern markets. It might be interesting to visualize the traffic in the fall after the crops had been gathered. Wagons loaded with barrels of apples, hams, chestnuts, and furs would be followed by the inevitable hound dogs. Droves of pigs and hogs were herded along the road. Heifers and steers were tied to the back of wagons while men in their homespun clothing, frontier jackets, and brogan shoes led them to market. 9 �The Long, Long Trail Everybody knows him, and all Americans claim him. He was a man who created a legend during his lifetime that is still depicted daily in the news and television. He was a good example of the saying, "Truth is stranger than fiction." He was born in Bucks County, Pennsylvania in 1735 of Scotch-Irish and Welsh parents who brought their three-year-old son in search of more plentiful game and better living conditions. His last name was Boone, and the trails he carved from the wilderness extend into Florida, both Carolinas, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Missouri. Following are some of the less publicized events in the life of this extraordinary man. He unsuccessfully tried to be a farmer in Yadkin County. He got deeper in debt each year he farmed until age 35. Finally, with nothing to lose, he took off for the forbidden land of "Caintuck," as the Indians called it. Kentucky was a land of meadows, flowing with the proverbial milk and honey, and thick with deer and buffalo. He left behind his wife and a sizeable crop of barefoot children, and with six other hunters, 10 �he headed for the Watauga Settlement which was the western most outpost in what is now Eastern Tennessee. Here was the beginning of the "Warriors Path," a trail known only to the Indians that wound through the rugged mountains across the Cumberland Gap into the "Promised Land." He came back empty-handed to Carolina in just under two years. The Indians had stolen all his furs and everything else he owned except his trusty rifle, but they had spared his life. Still the experience and knowledge was invaluable. He learned how to live and walk as the Indians did. He learned their customs and gained their respect. In 1773, six families including his own decided to settle in this territory and began the long, long journey. Along the way, Cherokees ambushed the party, killing several of the men, and captured, tortured, and killed Boone's sixteenyear-old son, sending the whole party back in horror. Two years later, a Colonel Henderson offered the Cherokees $50,000 worth of trading goods for most of "Caintuck," and the offer was accepted. Boone was chosen as leader of this party, and along with 30 hand-picked axmen, a wagon trail was cleared cross the Cumberla~d Gap. Here, in the midst of the bluegrass, on a bend of the Kentucky River was founded Boonesborough, which was to be the western11 �most outpost for the next twenty years. It was here that his daughter, Jemima, was kidnapped by the Shawnees and carried deep into the forest. Dan'l and a number of companions followed the trail for two days before a rescue could be attempted. Surrounding the Indian camp, the men took dead aim at the enemy and fired in unison, rescuing the girl unharmed. Just a few months later, Jemima rushed out of the stockade and dragged her wounded father back into Boonesborough during a seige. The Revolution had started, and though the Cherokees were allies of the Colonists, the English had armed the Shawnee, who were well established in this area, to oppose the settlers. At one time during this war, Daniel Boone and 26 of his companions were captured by the Shawnees and carried to a camp in Ohio. It was here that he showed his true greatness. He made friends with his captors, talked his enemies out of killing the others, and was adopted by the Chief. When he learned of a planned assault on Boonesborough, he escaped and made his way back to the stockade in time to organize his outnumbered defenders against the Shawnee. Though his defenses were pitifully weak, he out-maneuvered, out-talked, and out-fought the Indians to victory. To Boone himself, the victory left only a bitter taste. When Kentucky became a state, the sheriffs immediately sold 10,000 acres of 12 �Boone's land for taxes. He had been paid in land for his efforts, but his title to the land was worthless. The land on which his home was located was sold out from under him. Boone was bankrupt. Poorer than when they came to the "Promised Land" and disgusted at this unjust treatment, he went to Virginia. He stayed here for a few years, but his itchy feet wouldn't stay still. At 70 years of age, Boone took his family to Missouri, which was then under Spanish rule. There, Spanish officials gave him title to 8,500 acres of land. Boone was granted the title of Magistrate and held court underneath an elm tree. During the War of 1812, he volunteered for the Army and was disgusted to be turned down because of his age. He was only 78 years old at the time. When Missouri became a part of the United States, the title to Boone's land was declared null and void due to his failure to take care of some technicalities. Had it not been for a special act of Congress in 1810 certifying his right to this land, Daniel Boone would have again been kicked out in the cold and left penniless. However, a grateful country finally paid tribute to a great man with words of praise for "the man who had opened the way for millions of his fellowmen" over the long, long trail into the wilderness. 13 �Pioneer Farming North Carolina has always been noted as a leading agricultural state with more small farms than any other. This is especially true of the Catawba Valley where the rolling topography discouraged large farms for the early settlers. Another reason for the small farms was the policy of the Lord Proprietors and the English Crown of limiting the acreage in land grants to not more than 640 acres per household. Of course, some were .able to acquire more land through purchase or special privilege, but for the great majority of early settlers, this was enough for their needs. The early settlers did not acquire a deed or title to the land chosen, but were issued "patents" or land grants, which permitted them to occupy a certain tract of land, provided they cultivated the soil and paid a "quitrent" to the Crown. Thus, in fact, until the Revolution, the settlers didn't actually own the land, but merely rented it. Farming in the early days was very primitive. Actually, the Indians were better farmers than most of our ancestors and taught them how to survive. Land was so plentiful that no thought was given to conservation of fertility 14 �of the soil. When a portion of land was no longer productive, the farmer just moved on to another section. With very few tools to work with, it was a backbreaking job to clear enough land for survival. The smaller trees and underbrush were cut with axes and the smaller stumps removed. Larger trees were merely killed by cutting a ring around the bark and planting crops beneath the dead limbs. Cultivation was accomplished with hoes, which were also used to chop weeds and new growth away from the crops. The hoes were used to scrape up little mounds of earth called "hills" into which the seed was planted. Even as late as the Civil War, some planters reported their crops by the number of "hills" rather than in acreage, as we do now. This was because plowing was virtually impossible among the stumps and roots left in the soil. Also, hand labor was cheaper and more available than livestock or cash to buy equipment. Unlike the large plantations in eastern North Carolina or our sister states of the Deep South, the Catawba Valley was an area of small farms. Slavery was never very popular nor profitable in this area, even among the wealthy planters. Early landowners of note did possess quite a number of slaves, but, contrary to the popular conception of the day, they did not find it a profitable business. Most landowners considered 15 �their slaves members of their own family and refused to sell any of their slaves. As the slave population increased, the landowner ran out of land and work to keep his slaves busy. Still, he was responsible for their welfare and had to see that they were fed and clothed. 16 �Martin's Ghost Still Rides Excitement has long since died down in the Brindletown area, but for nearly a decade, area folks were part of a gold rush. Brindletown is a small, quiet community about 11 miles southwest of Morganton. One would never know the town existed if it weren't for the name painted on the fire department, but it wasn't always small and quiet. Sam Martin's discovery of gold in 1828 created a bustling town almost overnight as prospectors came to the area by the hundreds. Sam was a New Englander of Irish descent, and he spent his early life prospecting for gold. He looked for it in South and Central America, but was unsuccessful. In 1828, broke and despondent, he started walking back home. By the time Martin reached Brindletown, he was in rags. Bark stripped from trees replaced the soles of his shoes. He stopped at the home of a shoemaker, who gave him food and shelter. While staying with the shoemaker, Martin shared with the family his stories of the faraway places and strange people he had seen. Soon the neighbors began dropping in every evening to hear his tales. After a while, he regained his strength, and with a pair of stout shoes and a 17 �decent set of clothing, he told his hosts that he would be leaving for home the next day. Martin woke up early the next morning and stood at the door looking down the slope toward Silver Creek. The logs of the cabin were chinked with mud, and Sam detected some golden glints in it. Excited, he called the shoemaker, who told him that the mud had come from the creek. The two men began panning the sandy bottom of the stream at once, and they found gold with almost every dip and swirl of the pans. At first they tried to keep their discovery a secret, working only at night by the light of a pine torch. Curious neighbors soon found out what they were doing, and the rush was on. Sam Martin panned for gold for about six months. He was never one to stay in one place very long, so when he figured he had enough to last him for the rest of his life, he decided to leave Brindletown in style. Martin wore a tailor-made suit, a black hat, and shiny boots. He was driving a new coach pulled by a pair of fine horses, and he carried his gold in his saddlebags. He cracked his whip, yelled goodbye to his friends, and headed up the road towards Morganton, but he never reached his destination. At least no one remembered seeing Sam Martin. The sight of a man dressed in the latest fashion and driving a fancy rig would certainly have aroused a great deal of comment in that 18 �sleepy little village. He never reached his home in Connecticut either. Martin's disappearance is a mystery to this day. A lot of people knew of his departure in advance, and folks have speculated that he was waylaid, murdered, and robbed. No trace of Sam or his possessions was ever found. The old man who first told me the story of Sam Martin said that he heard it when he was a child. He and his family lived near Brindletown. He said that sometimes late on a dark night everything would suddenly get still. The crickets and night birds would hush, and if you listened hard, you could hear the faint clatter of hoofbeats and the creaking of a coach on a rough road to Morganton. Folks believed that it was Sam Martin's ghost still trying to find its way to New England. 19 �Bechtler' s Gold The Brindletown gold rush of 1828 brought hundreds of prospectors to this area. Subsequent strikes were made in Rutherford and McDowell counties. Gold mining soon became the principle industry in this part of the country for more than a decade. Gold became the main medium of exchange in the area because regular U.S. currency was in scarce supply at the time. The nearest government mint was in Philadelphia, and a shortage of gold there limited the amount of currency issued. It would have been much too dangerous an undertaking to ship the gold to Philadelphia. Consequently, the sight of leather pouches or quills filled with gold was common in the early days of the gold strike. News of the gold strike quickly reached Europe. In 1820, Christopher Bechtler, a German metallurgist and jeweler, came to Rutherfordton with his two sons and a nephew. Here he opened a jewelry store and sold clocks, watches, and numerous other gold items. Bechtler offered to mint gold coins for the government, and this soon became his main occupation. Between 1830 and 1840, Bechtler struck nearly two and a quarter million dollars in 20 �gold coins using presses and dies he designed himself. They were all in $5, $2.50, or $1 denominations. Bechtler's coins contained at least as much gold as those coins that were minted in the U.S. Treasury. Some coins of the same denomination differed in size, as Bechtler allowed for impurities in the gold. After Bechtler's death, his sons, Augustus and Christopher, carried on their father's tradition for a while. The Government established a regional mint in Charlotte, and the Bechtlers retired from minting gold coins. They remain distinguished in our nation's history as being the only private citizens ever to coin gold with government permission. 21 �The Ridge Where Jonas Froze Choosing the name for a town may seem like a difficult task today. In earlier days, this job was left up to community members who simplified the job greatly. Most town names were derived from local landmarks, first settlers, or community leaders. It was not uncommon for a town to change names as often as new officials took office or local attractions became popular. The town of Drexel was originally known as Baker. This village sprang up around the saw mill built by Samuel Huffman and D.B. Mull in 1899. As the town grew, it became necessary to officially name it, so Huffman and Mull asked the local railroad superintendent for suggestions. Among the names suggested was Drexel, a famous family from Pennsylvania who owned a majority of the railroad stock. The name stuck and this small town six miles east of Morganton is still known as Drexel. Morganton's name has its own history. First called Alder Springs, this town was not renamed until after the Revolutionary War. General Daniel Morgan, a Revolutionary hero, was honored when the town was named Morgansborough. Later, it was shortened to its 22 �present day Morganton. Few people would recognize Turkeytail or Sigmundsburg as former titles for Glen Alpine. A nearby tree whose shape resembled a turkey's tail was the basis for the town's first name. Later, two brothers named Sigmund established a store and post office and changed the name to Sigmundsburg. The name Glen Alpine became a permanent one when the Glen Alpine Springs Hotel became so popular that people often used Sigmundsburg and Glen Alpine interchangeably. The history of Connelly Springs is similar to that of Glen Alpine. Originally called Icard with a post office named Happy Home, this town took its current name from the once prosperous Connelly Springs Hotel. Chesterfield's past and present names were derived from local postmasters. J.C. Hood headed the town's mail service for a number of years. Therefore, the post office was called Hoodsville until John Chester became postmaster and secured permission to change the name to Chesterfield. Rutherfordton is the namesake of John Rutherford, a wealthy landowner from the Bridgewater community. He donated the money for purchase of 200 acres of land to establish a college. Robert L. Abernathy, a noted educator, minister, lecturer, and founder of Rutherford College, named the college and 23 �Connelly Springs Hotel N}. 1/i 11.': /loki' ffl,• liln !'If/ o;' iujiwmiu~· !I"" tf111f tf1is d,·/i~ldfid .··•I( 111111' ,. J·l·snJ·I· is ,,,,. O/U'/1 t•tl 1OJ' 1/11· J'rrr·pl iltll fJ/ t./llt',"'·''· p/1'{/!.ft ll~fl.•wlj !11 ·'/Jifl"t '"' jutilts-lakiu:.., lo atld to flu~ ('tJJIIjflrl out! ,,t,·ostl/'f' oj oll1rloJ "'"!! JHIIJ·nlli:t• IJ/1'. T/11 I'• llllll'ku!JI, nu·olir• fll'llflrt-lirs oj' 1!11' 1/'1111'1·. 1!11• sllllllu·ir,us nf/1/fJS/Iflfl'•' tll/1/ /It•• 1/1/."UII'IIfiSSt't/ fwUflf!J flj /fit• S/11'- 1/'llf fw 1'/ltloii'SI d flit 1/lf 11'/111 ""'' /.\(/(/ Ji•l'l "''"''''-~I'll 11'1'1''· /'/(1/1/lfiii~S. • fll'ill!.:-' u~ 1rd p, r Duv. $2 ~I' ca " 11 /t(fl'l ri,,ift'rf tf11• l),); VV~ek, $H oo to $1CJ Of), tH c u1 d1ng to loetlll )n of r·o 1111 • "' '1unth, $~0 - oo to $20 OIJ. Tl•r m \NIIh Fnn111u s. fiii!Jitrkl'!s jiJI'. lllll'!illll/1111, 11'111'1'1' I 'rllll'!tl's tl'il/ mr·t·llruins. J:r·spt'l'ljill/fl. JOH Early hotel advertisement 24 �community after its benefactor. Jonas Ridge received its name from a tragic occurrence. A man by the name of Jonas froze to death while on a hunting trip, and the area was first referred to as the ridge where Jonas froze. It was quite natural to put the ridge together with Jonas for the name, Jonas Ridge. Hildebran had its beginning when a saw mill and country store were set up near the railroad station. Five years later the store passed into the hands of Jack Hildebrand from whom the place took its name. In 1893, the followers of the Italian religious leader Peter Waldo began a colony in Western North Carolina. Here, they realized their goal of attaining religious freedom. Valdese, the name chosen by Waldo's followers as the name of their colony, is the Italian name for Waldensian. As you can see, many towns were named by the postmaster in honor of themselves. Others were named for happenings, products, or just descriptions of the locations. In early times if you mentioned Adakoa, Brindletown, Joy, Worry, Table Rock, Gold, Arney's Crossroad, Henderson's Mill, or Walker's Knob, everyone knew exactly where you meant. 25 �Courthouse Chaos As a boy, I would climb the winding stairs to the courtroom and watch the great legal minds of that day represent their clients with skill, dedication, and a complete mastery of their profession. Those are fond recollections for me, but the old courthouse harbors many more. In the early 1800's, court proceedings were not only a time for legal issues, but also a major social event for the people of the area. An 1824 act of the North Carolina State Legislature decreed that a term of the State Supreme Court be held in Morganton in August of each year. Appeals from Rowan and Mecklenburg counties and all counties west of those two were to be heard during these sessions. This became the top event of the year for all Western North Carolina since the most outstanding lawyers, judges, and court officials of the state gathered here for the court sessions. The Chief Justice and his associates and other officers of the court came in big, red, Concord coaches drawn by teams of either four or six horses. The driver, sitting on his high top seat, always blew his long horn with a tune called "Apple Dumplings for Supper" as he approached town. It is said that when the horn 26 �Burke County Courthouse blew, it was like the "pied piper.. to all the little boys in town. While court was in session, all the local hotels, boarding houses, and private rooms were filled. Wealthy tourists came in their own private carriages or on horseback with their servants. This was the season for parties and dances all over the county. Often people came to spend the night and stayed to dance a week. One of the most intriguing incidents witnessed in the courtroom occurred in the fall of 1851 27 �and involved lawyers William W aightsill Avery and Sam Fleming. Avery, a Burke County native, was defending a client from McDowell County against his legal opponent, Fleming, who was from Yancey County. Fleming became incensed at Avery's vigorous advocacy in a case which involved a guardianship. After court had adjourned, Fleming confronted Avery on the street and challenged him to a fist fight. Avery refused. Fleming then drew from under his coat a cowhide whip and began beating Avery severely. Avery's efforts to protect himself with his fists against a whip of this nature were useless. He was left bloody and wounded on the street until a friend rendered him aid. This incident left Avery with a horrible dilemma. Under the moral code of the day, he must either destroy himself or his opponent. Avery was advised by friends and family members that he must kill Fleming to uphold his own honor. Avery did not act upon the matter until court convened several weeks later. The first day of court passed without incident. The next day Fleming entered the courtroom and was speaking to a friend. Avery, who sat only a few feet away, stood up, took two steps forward, pulled a pistol from his coat, and shot Fleming in the heart. He then threw his empty pistol at the body of his fallen rival. 28 �This event took place in the presence of the judge, sheriff, court officers, a number of lawyers, and all the spectators in the crowded courtroom. The defendant, Avery, was jailed for three days. On the fourth day, a jury was selected and empaneled. When the trial began, the prosecution based its case on "prima facie" evidence. The assertion of the defense was that the indignity heaped on the accused by Fleming had calculated to disgrace, degrade, and ruin Avery. On the fifth day following the shooting, all the evidence had been presented by the prosecution and defense. The judge charged Avery with murder and dismissed the jury to debate Avery's guilt or innocence. The jury deliberated for only ten minutes and returned a verdict of "not guilty." This decision of the jury was based on the fact that Avery was a highly respected man, and he was thought to be merely defending his honor, an asset greatly prized in those days. Exciting people and trials are not the only significant events to compose the courthouse's colorful history. The building itself is something of a structural marvel. Its solid construction of native stone blocks accounts for its standing today. As the end of the Civil War was nearing, the Union Army's General Alvan Gillem led a raid through the Catawba River Valley. Gillem's men moved into Morganton and set up head29 �quarters in the courthouse. They then entered every house in Morganton and looted, stole, or destroyed everything of value. When Gillem and his men moved on, they tried to destroy the courthouse by fire. The building's solid stone construction defied their destructive intent. The records housed in the courthouse were destroyed instead as a calling card of the Union Army. That senseless act of vandalism served no military purpose and in later years became a headache for lawyers and a heartache for historians. 30 �Hatching a Dream Just before the turn of the century, two brothers had a dream, a vision, an inspired ambition. A dream that was born in the heart of the Appalachian Mountain region, not only from real necessity, but also from a great yearning of the people in the rugged mountain country. This need and desire was for the education and self-improvement of a people who had been bypassed by civilization and were living many years behind the time. They wanted to be able to read and to write, to speak so others could understand them,. and to get in the mainstream of life. The problem was that few among these thousands of mountain folk were capable of teaching others. The need for teachers inspired brothers B.B. and D.D. Dougherty of Boone, North Carolina to set out on a crusade of "teaching teachers." Their first venture was called Watauga Academy, the antecedent of what is now Appalachian State University, with hundreds of students graduating yearly into the teaching profession. I attended Appalachian Training School, as it was called in 1927, when Dr. Blan B. Dougherty was president and his brother, 31 �Dolph, was business manager. During my four years there, I came to know Dr. Blan Dougherty pretty well. In appearance, he was slender, dark complected, nearly bald, save the rim of coal black hair surrounding his crown, sported a little black mustache, and seemed to be very grim-faced and straight-laced. This appearance of grimness, I always thought, was to cover up his native sense of humor in order to lend a look of dignity to his dedicated cause. A tale I once heard about Dr. Blan concerns one of his "walking spells." Dr. Blan liked to walk. When he had a problem on his mind, he would stroll through the woods or over the campus, hands clasped behind his back, his head bent forward. During these "thinking'' spells, which were generally at night, he hardly knew where he was and would walk for miles until his problem was finally solved. One night he was startled out of his reverie by a keen "whistle" that seemed to come from over behind the girls dormitory. His curiosity exceeding his mental problem of the moment, he quietly obtained a vantage spot behind a tree where he could see what was taking place. Shortly, a window opened on the second story of the old building, and a bed sheet dropped down nearly to the ground. A young man slipped from the shadows, grasped the sheet and was hoisted rapidly through the window. After some little time, the sheet and boy appeared again, and the 32 �B.B. Dougherty 1870-1857 D.D. Dougherty 1869-1929 Watauga Academy in 1905 33 �night visitor slipped quietly off into the darkness. Rather than raise a fuss to catch the boy, the good professor decided to see who was operating the bed sheet elevator and for what purpose. When he gave a low whistle, sure enough, down came the sheet. Grasping it like the one before, he was hauled rapidly upward until his head was even with the window sill. Upon seeing at close hand the kind of "fish" they had caught, the girls, with a shriek, turned loose the sheet, and our hero fell to the ground and sustained a broken collar bone. The next morning, two girls from the dorm were missing. They had unaccountably become ill during the night and had gone home. Over the years, little Watauga Academy grew in size and stature, due in great measure to those two men. Today, with University status, the total enrollment is about 10,000, including 1,000 graduate students. Many qualified teachers from this institution have helped improve the educational standards all over the country. During this same period, another dream was being "hatched." Born of the same need and desperate desire for improvement, a couple from Davidson, North Carolina, Doctors Mary and Eustace Sloop, began in a small way to improve the standards of living through education of the mountain people who were avid for the 34 �opportunity. Starting from "scratch," the two doctors were finally able to establish a small school at Crossnore, North Carolina. Today the school has a campus of 75 acres and an enrollment of 74 children who are housed in one of eight dormitories. Most of these children come from broken homes. All of this was accomplished through the "boot strap" efforts of local residents under the leadership of this wonderful couple. Rag shaking at Crossnore One of the prime sources of income at this school is what is known locally as the "rag shaking." This takes place in a small warehouse or store building where gifts, mostly of second hand clothing, furniture, costume jewelry, 35 �books, etc., are sorted and sold to the public. The merchandise of every imaginable description is donated by individuals and civic organizations throughout the country and has a dual purpose. It provides income through cash sales for the school, and supplies inexpensive clothing for the local people. 36 �Fate Lane In days gone by, moonshiners were a dime a dozen, but the moonshiner who paid tax on the spirits he produced was one of a kind. The man to whom I refer was Lafayette (Fate) Lane, and paying the required manufacturer's tax on his corn whiskey and apple brandy was only one of his many distinguishing characteristics. Fate Lane was a legend in his own time in Western North Carolina. Born to Irish immigrant parents in 1813, Fate lived to be 99 years old. During the course of his colorful life, he was married to eight different wives and sired 43 children. In addition, it was common knowledge in the community that children by other women bore the Fate Lane stamp. Fate made literally thousands of gallons of apple brandy from the fruit grown in his own large, well-kept orchard. Being a scrupulously honest man, he paid the required tax on every gallon of spirits that he ever distilled. Fate consumed a great deal of the products of his distilleries, but at 99, he proved that liquor in large quantities and women in great numbers were not necessarily detrimental to a man's health. A great many stories have been told about 37 �Fate Lane 1813-1912 Lafayette Lane. This one is almost beyond belief. Back around 1875 there was a bawdy house in downtown Morganton which presented a problem for the local police. Fate and the officers were on good terms, and when they asked him to do them a favor, he agreed. 38 �They asked him if he and his boys, on their next visit to town, would empty the house of its residents and burn it. True to his word, on their next trip to Morganton, Fate and his sons escorted the ladies from the house and burned it to the ground. To Lafayette Lane, with eight wives at home, it seemed incredible that any man in his right mind would pay for the services provided in a bordello. Fate's action at the bawdy house did not meet with the approval of all the local officers of the law, and a warrant charging him with arson was served on him. The Superior Court jury returned a verdict of guilty, and the judge asked Fate to stand and be sentenced. Instead, the convicted man approached the bench and pulled a large iron weight from his pocket. He struck the judge on the head with the weight, knocking his Honor, sprawling and semiconscious, to the floor. Fate then rode home, disregarding pleas of lawmen to return and take his medicine. Fate Lane was never sentenced in the arson case, and no warrant was ever served on him for assaulting the judge. Lafayette Lane was a patriotic man, and he used to come to Morganton on the Fourth of J uly for the celebration that took place on that date every year. Once he loaded his wagon on July 3rd, placing thereon two 50-gallon barrels, 39 �one filled with whiskey and the other with apple brandy. The spirits were to refresh himself and his sons and any thirsty Morgantonians who might care for a dram or two. Fate and his kin folks camped that night near Salem and went into town early the next morning. By mid-afternoon, some of the Lanes were becoming pretty obstreperous, and the chief of police told Fate that it appeared that he and his fellow officers might have to lock them up. Fate replied that the Lanes had the police greatly outnumbered and outgunned and asked them to get off the street for a short time. The police did, and Fate gathered his party together and left for home, thereby avoiding a battle that might have resulted in the untimely demise of the entire Morganton police force. Politically the Lanes were staunch Democrats, and their precinct, Silver Creek No. 2, always voted unaminously Democratic. This result was obtained when, on the eve of election day, all the Lane men old enough to bear arms would come down from the mountains and spend the night at the polling place. On election day, men coming to vote would find the polling place guarded by a platoon of Lanes, armed to the teeth, and only those known to be Democrats were permitted to vote. Fate could neither read nor write, but being a well-to-do man, he subscribed to three newspapers. His more literate wives read the 40 �news to him, and it is said that he never forgot an important news item. During the 19th century, the Lane clan ruled the southwestern part of Burke County as though it was their own tiny mountain kingdom, making their own rules of conduct. They had only contempt for those state laws that they disagreed with. Bigamy was not illegal to the clansmen provided that the parties to the relationship were agreeable. If a man was offended and responded with violence, this was the accepted norm. According to written and verbal history, no law enforcement officers ever came to Brindletown to arrest a Lane, although their illegal and scandalous conduct would have warranted such time and time again. In the 1930's a political speech writer coined the term "rugged individualism." He must have had Fate Lane in mind. 41 �Overmountain Men A while back the newspapers told the story of a celebration that took place in Massachusetts commemorating a skirmish that occurred on a bridge on April 19, 1775. The day is remembered as the beginning of a fratricidal war that ended in the freedom of the colonies from the rule of a tyrant. The end came at Yorktown, Virginia exactly eight years from the day the war began. It's fine to celebrate the start of the American Revolution, but I have often wondered why we people of the mountains of Tennessee, Virginia, and North Carolina, together with those in the Piedmont area directly to the south of the mountains, do not celebrate October 7 each year. This is the anniversary of the Battle of Kings Mountain, credited by many historians as being the turning point in the war. In 1976, many of the descendants of the men who fought in this battle, together with others interested in the history of our nation, marched down a route that a troop of fine light cavalry took to the South Carolina battlefield. Their journey took them from the Sycamore Shoals of the Watauga River down through the high Ap42 �palachians to the Catawba River Valley, and on south through Rutherford County into King's Mountain. Let's take a few minutes to put Kings Mountain in perspective. Early in September, 1780, the cause of freedom for the Colonies seemed doomed. A few weeks earlier, General Washington had written in his diary "Hope is now all but lost." His army was low on food, clothing, arms ammunition, men, and morale. Desertions were a common, almost daily occurence. The troops were paid with paper currency issued by the Continental Congress, and it "was not worth a continental." For those who wanted freedom, it was the nadir of the war. From a territorial standpoint, the war was fought in two parts: the first half in the North, and the second and most decisive phase was fought in the South. In the late summer of 1780, the Southern states were virtually controlled by the British and their Loyalist or Tory allies. The commanding general, Lord Cornwallis, had his headquarters in Charlotte. The principal ports, Savannah and Charleston, had fallen to his troops. The only opposition rested in small bands of Whigs fighting with hit-and-run tactics, unable to mount a sustained attack or even defend a town. Cornwallis had as his two principal subordinate officers Colonel Benastre Tarleton and 43 �Major Patrick Ferguson, both able and experienced military leaders. This story concerns only Ferguson, 36 years old at the time. Ferguson was the son of a Scottish lord and was commissioned in the Royal North British Dragoons when only fifteen. The young officer had fought with distinction in the British campaign in Flanders and Germany. In 1768, he was made a captain, and he helped put down a rebellion on St. Vincent Island, a British possession in the Caribbean, and was then recalled to England. Early in 1777, Ferguson was sent to the Colonies to aid in suppressing the King's rebellious subjects. Here, he served with distinction in the northern phase of the war at Brandywine, Egg Harbor, and Mommouth. In October, 1779, Ferguson was commisioned Major Commanding in charge of the Second Battalion of the Seventy-First Regiment. His outfit was better known as the Highland Light Infantry because many of his men were descendants of Scotch Highlanders. Ironically, a troop of Lowland Scots finally brought him down. Ferguson and his regiment, mostly natives of North and South Carolina, were posted at Gilbert Town, North Carolina in September, 1780. Around the middle of that month, he marched north to a point near Morganton, then turned west for some thirty miles before returning to his post. 44 �Somewhere along the line of march, Ferguson paroled a Whig prisoner captured earlier at the Battle of Cowpens. He instructed the prisoner to go over the mountains to the leaders of the Whig militia based in East Tennessee and Southwest Virginia to bear this message: "Either they lay down their arms or he would cross the mountains and hang the Whig leaders and lay waste the land with fire and sword." The parolee took this message directly to Colonel Isaac Shelby, commander of the militia in Sullivan County, Tennessee. Two days later, Shelby relayed the message to Colonel John Sevier of the Jonesboro, Tennessee militia. Colonels Shelby and Sevier dispatched a courier to Colonel William Campbell of nearby Washington County, Virginia. These three militia leaders, together with Colonel Charles McDowell of Quaker Meadows and Colonel Andrew Hampton of Rutherford County, held a meeting to decide upon immediate military strategy. This group of five colonels decided that half of their total militia forces would be mustered to fight Ferguson. The remainder of the men were left to preserve peace at home. On September 26, 1780, this band of "Over the Mountain Men," or "Buckwater Men," as Ferguson referred to them, left from Sycamore Shoals on the Watauga River. The avowed pur45 �pose of this group was to hunt down and destroy Major Patrick Ferguson and his Tory band. Their path led them through some of the most rugged terrain ever traversed by cavalry, the Southern Appalachian highlands. Crude trails called "traces" were followed through the primitive wilderness of the Yellow, the Roan, the Silver, and the Linville mountains. Two men deserted the second night on the trail while the group was camped between the Roan and Yellow Mountains. The two defectors hurried ahead to inform Ferguson of the Whigs' presence and purpose. This move had been anticipated by the militia leaders, so that day they divided into two bands. One group headed west, following the north fork of the Catawba River, and the other group followed Paddy's Creek to the Catawba River. The bands converged at Colonel McDowell's home, Quaker Meadows, on the banks of the Catawba River. Colonel Benjamin Cleveland, commander of the militia in the Surry/Stokes County area of North Carolina had been notified of the plan to battle Ferguson. His troops arrived at Quaker Meadows about the same time as the "Over the Mountain Men." On October 1, this larger militia resumed their search and pursuit of Ferguson. The two deserters had reached Ferguson at Gilbert Town on September 30, and they in46 �formed him of his peril. The British Commander immediately took two steps to ward off the impending attack by the militia: First, he dispatched two couriers to Cornwallis in Charlotte. Ferguson's urgent request was for "three or four hundred good soldiers, part dragoon," and gave his intended line of march to his destination, King's Mountain. Ferguson's second action was an attempt to recruit more Loyalists. He wrote a letter and had it posted along the route of his intended march. The letter went as follows: Denard's Ford, Broad River Tryon County, October I, 1780 Gentlemen: Unless you wish to be eat up by an inundation of barbarians, who have begun by murdering an unarmed son before the aged father, and afterwards lopped off his arms, and who by their shocking cruelties and irregularities give the best proof of their cowardice and want of discipline; I say, if you wish to be pinioned, robbed and murdered, and see your wives and daughters in four days, abused by the dregs of mankind-in short, if you wish or deserve to live, grasp your arms in a moment and run to camp. The Back Water men have crossed the mountain; McDowell, Hampton, Shelby and Cleveland are at their head, so that you know what you have to depend upon. If you choose to be degraded forever and ever be a set of Mongrels, say so at once, and let your women turn their backs upon you, and look out for real men to protect them. Pat. Ferguson, Major 7lst Regiment Having taken these means of getting reinforcements, Ferguson now marched directly south for a few miles, and then turned southeast. Crossing the South Carolina border east of Gaffney in Cherokee County, he pro47 �ceeded to his chosen position of the bald, rocky top of the low mountain, which was densely covered on all its sides by trees. Here he waited for reinforcements from his request to Cornwallis. Ferguson waited in vain for his messengers had been late in delivering his request to Cornwallis. After having been dispatched by Ferguson, the messengers spent the first night of their trip with a staunch Whig and pretended to believe in the cause of freedom. The messengers aroused the Whig's suspicions by leaving in a great hurry very early the next morning. He gathered a few friends to pursue Ferguson's messengers. When the messengers became aware that they were being followed, they hid out for a short while and finally reached Cornwallis in Charlotte on October 7, the day the battle began. Ferguson's dogged pursuers had taken a slightly longer route to King's Mountain. They had stayed to the west and then south of their quarry, keeping the waters of the Silver and Cane creeks between them to avoid possible ambush. On October 7, they reached the mountain and quickly surrounded it. Preparing for battle, each commander spoke to his troops. Colonel Campbell, immediately before leading his Virginians up the steep, wooded incline, is said to have yelled, "Here they are, my brave boys, shout like Hell and 48 �fight like devils." Then came the final order for all from Benjamin Cleveland, his Scottish claymore in hand, "Fresh prime your guns and every man go into battle resolving to fight until he dies." Thus, a force of slightly more than 900 men began climbing the steep sides of the mountain, darting from tree to tree, all the time screaming like madmen. Ferguson's troops, by best estimates, numbered about 1,100 men. The Loyalist forces, exposed on the summit, were easy targets for the backwoods marksmen, who themselves had good cover in the trees. At the summit the fighting was fierce, hand-tohand, but gradually the tide turned for the Whigs. In desperation, Ferguson, on horseback, accompanied by two of his officers, tried to break through the tightening circle. Ferguson was mortally wounded in his attempt, and he died immediately after falling from his mount. The Tories now attempted to surrender, one by one, by tying white cloths to their gun barrels. The meaning of their sign was ignored by the Whigs either because they did not understand the intent of the Tories or they were obsessed by hatred. Nevertheless, the slaughter continued for a time before hostilities ceased. The entire battle lasted less than one hour. Major Patrick Ferguson died a hero's death. Two horses had been shot from under him and 49 �his sword was broken in the battle. His body, pitted with eight bullet holes, was wrapped in a beef hide and buried on the mountain. The killing did not end on the battlefield. Some forty Tory prisoners were given summary trials by their captors and sentenced to hang at Biggerstaffs farm above Gilbert Town as the mountain men started for home. Nine were hanged before the fires of vengeance cooled, and the rest were spared. Weeks after the battle, British military leaders in the South were still at a loss as to where this fierce and formidable army had come from. George Washington did not know of this army's existence or purpose until after the battle of King's Mountain had been fought. The war was to go on until April 19, 1783. Beseiged at Yorktown and prevented from escaping by sea by the French fleet, Cornwallis delivered his sword to George Washington, thus ending the Patriots long struggle for freedom. 50 �The Generation Gap We hear so much about the generation gap that I have gone back just one generation to try to depict the life and times of that earlier era. Let's look back and see what a typical mediumsized town was like in 1905. Most growing towns of this period had a water system, telephones, electricity, town government, and a fire department of sorts. The fire department probably consisted of two reel teams with voluntary firemen who could man those outfits upon call. The reels were handoperated with two big wagon wheels upon which was wound a hose that would attach to the few water hydrants around the business sections of town. Inside plumbing was just becoming popular for those who could afford it, although the majority of homes still used the outside privy. Many thought it unsanitary to move the privy inside the house and only had a cold water spigot in the kitchen which invaribly froze every winter. Housing costs then were unbelievable when compared with today's soaring prices. My father's house was built during this time and cost a total of $2,300. It was a two-story frame 51 �52 �53 �house consisting of eight rooms. Every room had a fireplace in it except the kitchen, which housed a Majestic wood stove where all the cooking was done. Public schools had only recently been started, and it was not unusual for clas~es to be held in the Town Hall or in local churches. In addition to the public schools, there were a number of private schools which were held in the homes of the teachers. Transportation was by foot, horseback, buggy, or wagon. Livery stables, where horses would be boarded or rented, were profitable businesses. Horse and mule traders were the equivalent of car salesmen today and had horse lots, barns, and blacksmith shops within the town limits. All country people and most town folks had a cow, chickens, and a pig in their back yard. There were no refrigerators, so meat in the summertime had to be consumed before it spoiled. Fall was hog killing time when the meat was processed into cured hams, liver mush, souse meat, bacon, fat back, and spare ribs. Vegetable gardens were essential, and everyone tried to can and preserve enough during the summer to last through the winter. The centers of activity at that time were the Town Hall, Court House, and Depot. Folks would gather at the Depot to watch the trains run and the drummers get off and on. Hacks 54 �representing the different boarding houses and hotels met each train. The barrooms, which were on almost every corner and in between, were really crowded during court week. Everybody came to town then in their wagons, buggies, and on foot, and camped out on vacant lots. There, they would swap horses, drink, sing, drink, tell tales, drink, and, in general, catch up on all the news and gossip. Things that were commonplace then are now either gone for good or fast disappearing from the streets and stores. Typical things were barefoot boys, hound dogs, tobacco juice, muddy streets, buggy whips, pickle and cracker barrels, horse collars, corsets, hat pins, watering troughs, hitching posts, horse manure on the streets, grindstones, washboards, and high button shoes. In just one generation, we have gone from the Wright's flight at Kitty Hawk to a man on the moon; from horse and buggy to sport cars and motor bikes; from muddy roads and ferries to super highways and jumbo jets; from a weekly, two-page newspaper to instant news on television; from a water wheel on the creek to atomic power. Does anyone want to go back? 55 �Sun to Sun The old addage, "A man works from sun to sun, but a woman's work is never done" was never more true than when applied to the country women of yesteryear. Today, when "store bought" items are the rule rather than the exception, when we rely on newspapers, radio, and television for news, and when education is deemed a right, and not a privilege for the moneyed few, it is difficult to recall the lifestyle of our country people not so very long ago. Let's look back one hundred years or so and see what a typical day was like for a country woman. We'll just see what Ma's doing while Pa is breaking his back sitting on a log in the woods all day, waiting for a chance deer or turkey to wander by. First, Ma gets up before daylight to stir up the fire, and puts away the spinning wheel or sewing she worked with 'til late the night before. Next, she goes to the smoke house to cut a slab of bacon off the side meat for breakfast for her man and eleven children. On the way back to the house she 'totes in a load of wood for the fire and puts the pots and pans on the hearth to heat while she goes to the spring for a bucket of water. When she gets back, it's time to wake 56 �the old man who gets up grumbling about his back and complaining of these dang females who wake a man in the middle of the night. While Ma stirs up some vittles, changes the baby, wakes and dresses the other children, reminds Pa to wash his face and feed the mule, she chunks the fire, empties the slop jars and chamber pots, reminds Billy to wash his ears, finds a hair ribbon for Susie, and lines up the caps for the boys and bonnets for the girls. All this is done while the bacon is sizzling. It is now time to start the day's work. She remembers that this is wash day and soap must be made, peach tree bark gathered to "sweeten" the clothes, butter to churn, the cow to feed and milk, eggs to gather, garden patch to hoe and weed, and try to get Pa to string a new clothes line. While she's athinkin' of the day's work to come, she's stopped two fights among the young'uns, stirred up a dozen eggs, whipped up a batch of buckwheat batter, raked some ashes aside for the lye to make soap, baked some cornpone for Pa' s six houn' dogs, and shelled fourteen ears of corn for the chickens. Now Pa's back from the barn, complainin' that somebody done moved the string he had saved for the clothesline. Ma reaches over and slaps Billy across the rump, for she saw him use that string on his kite. By now it's might-nigh daylight, and while 57 �Ma washes the dishes, sweeps off the hearth, carries out the ashes, makes up the beds and runs the "brood" out of the house for some fresh air, Pais oilin' his rifle so's he can go rabbit huntin'. The Civil War placed many more demands on country women. We have heard little about the hundreds of thousands of plain, ordinary, country women who stayed at home and performed all the necessary chores previously done by their husbands in addition to their own housework. According to all accounts, there just weren't enough daylight hours to get all the chores done, so after the children were put to bed, she would go out into the fields and plow the crops by moonlight, or kill the hogs, or cut firewood. She did all these things in addition to encouraging her husband and sons in the army. Supplies and clothing were provided by these country women. Bandages for the wounded were made at home, and if nursing skills were needed, it was the women who provided them. One might think that the slaves could perform these functions, yet surprisingly more than 75 per cent of the white southerners had no slaves at all. Those who had as many as 20 slaves were exempt from conscription into military service. The same applied to wealthy Northerners who could hire someone to serve their enlistments. As a result, it was the poor farmers 58 �and tradesmen who served as soldiers in the Civil War. Unquestionably, the monuments on every town square pay tribute to the soldiers who served the Confederacy. By far, the greater sacrifice was by the women who were left at home. In all fairness, alongside the man with the gun should be a woman in her bonnet and shawl, with a plow at one hand, a spinning wheel at the other, and a cradle rocking at her feet. 59 �Buckeyes for Rumatiz Hill folks pay a lot more attention to the little things and happenings in their lives than city folks. They have learned over the years from their parents and their own observations that the little "signs" can save a lot of grief, maybe even one's life. Many signs and superstitions were brought over from the old country, but a lot were incubated right here in the Carolina foothills. Farming was a necessary part of livelihood, and an early frost, late spring, rain, snow, or drought had much to do with the success or failure of their crops. With no weather forecasts, they had to depend on signs which indicated when to plant, when to harvest, when cold weather was coming etc. The following are some of the more common signs that a lot of folks believe in to this day. Weather Signs A ring around the moon means dry weather. The number of stars within the ring indicates the number of days before rain. It won't rain under a new moon until the point tilts down. If a new moon falls on Saturday, look for twenty days of bad weather. 60 �The first frost comes three months after the first katydid is heard. The amount of mast (acorns and nuts) will tell whether to expect a hard or a mild winter. Thickness of corn husks or animal fur and the width of a caterpillar's stripe denote the severity of the coming winter. If the fire sputters or fizzles, look out for bad weather. There will be as many snows in winter as there were fogs in August. When duck, geese, and guineas make a fuss, it's a sign of a storm. Sky red in the morning- a sailor's warning. Sky red at night - a sailor's delight. Folks who can see Grandfather Mountain say he's a pretty good weather prophet. If he has his hat on (a cloud around the peak), look out for bad weather. If he's smiling (clear), you can expect ten days of good weather. Social and Miscellaneous Signs and Superstitions A buckeye carried in the hip-pocket wards off rheumatism. If you drop your fork on the floor, your love life is in trouble. Sweeping under the feet of a girl when she's sitting down will guarantee she will be an old maid. A thunderstorm will sour milk. When a fire in the fireplace roars up the chimney, there will be a fuss in the family. If your wedding day is windy, it's a sign of good luck. If your second toe is bigger than your "big" toe, you'll be the boss in your family. 61 �If you sneeze before breakfast, you'll have company that day. If a fisherman cusses, fish will not bite. Corn does best planted when the oak leaves are the size of squirrel ears. Do you avoid walking under ladders, go in one door and out another, sit against the planks in a card game, "stamp" every white horse or mule you see, go around the same side of a tree or post when walking with a companion? If you do, welcome to the club "old-timer." 62 �Sayin's and Meanin's I have discovered that when I leave the mountains, I have difficulty getting others to understand what I am trying to say ... particularly in the North. Even when I spell it out, they ask me to repeat it. The fact is that they just don't know what good, old, pure English is. There is some disagreement among scholars regarding the origin of mountain dialect. I am inclined to believe that the people of the Southern Appalachians have retained much of the Old Country speech which was handed down to them in its purest form by their ancestors from olde England. There is too much evidence of the Elizabethean era to ignore, although some expressions are obviously contemporary with Daniel Boone times. The following are some of the more common words and expressions used in our section of the country: Air- Frequently used for are or is. "He air a good boy." Agin- When. "Hit'll be late agin I git through." Aim- Plan. "I aim to finish plowing 'fore dark." Am- Used to press clothes. "My am got too hot." Bile - Boil. "Hit looks as iffin this here pot will never bile." Bar- Bear. "Ole Nim Grey wuz the best bar hunter around." Cheer- A piece of furniture. "Draw up a cheer and set." Clum- Past tense of climb. "He clum that tree like a squirrel." Crick- Creek. "I fell offen the foot log, smack dab in the crick." Far- Fire. 63 �Fit- Fight. "I gotta help them Forest Rangers fit the far." Fotch - Past tense of fetch. "Fetch me that jug!" "I fotch one yestiddy." Fur piece- Long distance. "It's a fur piece to town." Gully washer- Very hard rain. Holpe- Help. "You don't holpe me, I'll tell your Pa." Kivered- Covered. ''I'm plumb kivered up with work." Leave- Let. "You better leave me be." Mought- Might. "It's mought nigh dinner time." Nigh - Near or almost. Quair- Strange or teched. "Ain't he jest a leetle quair?" Ruint- Spoiled. "The pot tamed over and ruint my beans." Snuck- Past tense of sneak. "He snuck in the barn." Seed- Past tense of see. "I seed you when you done it." Shet- Close. "Shet the door." Taters - Potatoes. Vittles- Food. "Weren't for taters and 'lasses, wouldn't be no vittles. Warnets- Walnuts. Yander - Yonder. "He taken sick" - To become ill. "Get out" - Busy as all get out. "Weak as pond water"- A sorry drink or weak sermon. "I'll learn him" - A threat of violence. "I ain't losing no sleep" - I'm not worried. "Light and set" - Get off your horse and stay a while. "How be ye?" - How are you? "A faultin' woman"- One who nags constantly. "Git or gitten for get" -"Hits gitten ready fer to snow." 64 �Snake'ing the Kivers Time moves so rapidly, and customs have changed so drastically in the past century, that many people don't even recognize the names of essential items that were commonplace to their ancestors. A few of the words have been deleted from modern dictionaries because of disuse. Some of the tools used in construction of the early homes were the adz, froe, auger, and broadaxe. Singletree, hame, backstrap, crupper, or hoke were common names to those fortunate enough to have horses, mules, or oxen. In the house was the indispensible fly brush, trundlebed, loom, flax wheel, bellows, anvil, and maul. Some of the earliest homes didn't have floors, but were built on the ground with pine needles, rushes, or just the bare earth. Later homes had puncheon floors, which were split logs with the flat side turned up. Poisonous snakes were always a problem for the early settlers. Their log or pole cabins were generally crude affairs with cracks large enough to see daylight on all sides, and snakes could slip in most any place. It became essential for cabin dwellers to "snake" the covers before retiring for bed. This practice involved removing all the bedclothes from the beds and shaking 65 �thoroughly before climbing in for the night. Early roads in the mountain areas were rough and barely passable. This attributed to the good relationships between neighbors of the region. As one old-timer once said, "The few inhabitants were mostly good because the region was so rough and the roads were so bad that the devil could hardly get through." Before the county took over the responsibility, the first road systems in the area were kept up by the local men. All males between the ages of 21 and 45 who lived along a section or road were required to donate their labor for several days each year toward keeping the dirt roads passable. They would meet at designated places with their shovels, mattocks, and other tools to fill up the pot holes, open ditches, and grub stumps from the trails. There were no doctors in the early days and very few midwives or "granny-women" to care for expectant mothers, so everyone learned to makedo with what they had. One custom that was quite prevalent was to "snuff' the wife at birthing time. That was done by putting a pinch of strong snuff in each nostril which would cause violent sneezing and aid in the delivery of the child. The first settlers in a region ate "high on the hog," as we say down South, since wild game was plentiful and the deer, bear, turkey, etc. provided the main meat rations needed without 66 �much effort. It was not unusual for a good hunter to kill as many as two hundred deer and one hundred bear in a normal life span. However, as the population increased, the supply of game decreased to such an extent that settlers had to resort to smaller animals for food. Eventually, it became very difficult to kill enough rabbits, squirrels, and. other small game to feed the large families of that day, so pigs and other livestock replaced the deer for meat. During this transitional period from wild game to domesticated animals, folks lived pretty hard, learning to eat most anything that moved. Animals that were formerly spurned for food such as turtles, frogs, and possums found their way into the pots of the hungry population. Most everyone had a spring house which consisted of a little room built around and over the spring with a trough for the cold water to run through. In this trough were placed crocks of milk, butter, fruits, and vegetables to keep cool. An apple house or "tater hole" was necessary to keep these foods through the winter. Hams and meats were cured and stored in smoke houses. In the early days, cows, pigs, chickens, and turkeys were allowed to run loose and feed on the native mast of the forests and fields. Western ranchers branded their cattle, but in the mountains the livestock generally had their ears notched a certain way to distinguish one 67 �man's stock from another. Some questionable characters would cut the whole ear off for a distinguishing mark. Occasionally, feuds were started by arguments and suspicions about whose calf was whose. Education was a sort of hit or miss affair. A community was considered lucky if it could secure the services of a teacher who had attended one or two years of college. Classes were first held in homes or churches until little one-room log school houses were built. These school houses generally didn't have fireplaces or any other means of heat, so classes were held only for three months during the summer. In some sections a two-week "writing'' school would be held where, for a small fee, children and adults would be taught to write. Many of the old documents were written with beautiful penmanship, but had very poor spelling and composition. Stores were few and far between, so "peddlers" roamed the sparsely settled countryside with huge packs on their backs filled with spices, scissors, knives, ribbon, etc. They were always welcomed, fed, and entertained because of the news they brought from other parts of the country. Even though newspapers were printed from the earliest days, there were no reliable delivery methods in the Hill Country until a national system of mail delivery was established. Deliveries then were by horseback, and few of 68 �the inhabitants could afford to buy papers, even if they were able to read. Today's good roads, electricity, schools, and tourism have made a big change in the foothills. Despite all these changes, the people still retain their simplicity and self-reliance that enabled them to prosper in earlier days. 69 �House Raisings and Parlors Constructing a home in early mountain times was a major undertaking. It took the efforts of an entire family and help from generous neighbors to build even the most simple log house. Generally, when a community was established, they would have a "house raising" for each family. Everyone would gather from miles around to help "raise" the house. Clearing the land was the first step taken when building a house. This served a dual purpose since land was needed for both a house and an area where crops could be planted, and the timber was used to cut logs for the house. The logs that formed the houses were about eight inches thick, 14 to 24 inches wide, and usually 20 to 24 feet long. Dovetailed joints were used to put the logs together. Fourteen inch by fourteen inch plates held in place by wooden hickory pegs one-and-one-half to two inches in diameter secured the dovetailed joints at the top. The chimneys and fireplaces were constructed of native stone. Red or white clay was used to hold together the stones. Fireplaces were usually five to seven feet wide and four to five feet high. This gave enough room for the 70 �Preserved log cabin heating and cooking at the same time. The early houses had no windows, only holes cut the front and back with shutters to cover them. There were no locks of any kind on the doors. Wooden latches operated by strings which could be pulled in at night were the only method of securing the house. Most log houses had only a kitchen and master bedroom for adults downstairs and a loft upstairs for the children. Some folks had a "parlor," used only when special company or the parson paid a visit. Neighbors and family were entertained in the master bedroom or kitchen by the huge fireplace. Visitors were always welcomed by the mountain people as their social gatherings were limited to "house raisings," 71 �"corn shuckings," and "quilting bees" in the winters, and the summers were devoted to farming tasks. 72 �Much Obliged Mountain folks have always been the most polite group of people I have ever known. Unless you know their habits and customs, you would probably think just the opposite. For instance, the man would walk ahead of his wife, sometimes quite a distance, and let her carry the groceries or other packages. In our ignorance we might think that was the height of rudeness, yet his reasons for doing so make him quite chivalrous. He goes ahead to ward off danger to his family. There might have been a hostile Indian, bear, mountain lion, or rattlesnake just around the corner. Give a family a gift, and you'll receive a ··much obliged," and a gift in return. They refuse to be "beholden" to anyone and are very proud and self-sufficient. Even a visit will get a jar of preserves, flowers, canned goods or other tokens of appreciation. The worst community crime is to steal or tattle on your neighbor. I've heard people criticized more for stealing than for killing. The fact is that in the early days stealing was about the same as murder. When one has worked and slaved for a bare existence and some of that was stolen, a terrible hardship was caused. Since 73 �your neighbors were all in the same circumstances, if you borrowed from them, two families would go hungry instead of one. In the Old West you could get hanged for stealing a horse. Here, one penalty was to have your ear notched or cut off so the whole world could tell you were a thief. I don't know if this was a legal penalty, but I do know that it was a custom. Except for the young "dare devils," most mountain folk obey all the rules of the road when driving or walking. They will pull over to let you pass. If you have car trouble, they will invariably stop to help. Day or night they are willing to help a neighbor or stranger in trouble. This trait is part of the mountain "code" handed down from earlier days when a community's motto was "one for all and all for one" or "you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours." I can remember when there would be only one threshing machine in a whole community. When the small grain was ripe, all the men in the neighborhood would gather on each man's farm in turn. The women folks would gather also to cook a "rip snortin" good meal for the men folks. Earlier, the same cooperation was seen in "house raisings." Mter a man had cut his logs for a new house, his neighbors would help to build or "raise" the logs for his home. "Quilting bees," corn shuckings, or sickness 74 �of any kind would invariably bring your neighbors over to help out. Those were the days when the "latch string" was always out. No one locked a door since there was no need to fear your neighbors. Mountain men are very persistent lovers. They select the gal they want and won't take "no" for an answer. They hold their women in high esteem and will protect their good names with their fists or guns if necessary. Mountain 'folks are also very particular about appearances. Should you offer a lone woman a ride home, she will ride in the back seat, even if you know her well. They don't take chances of being "talked about." Sometimes during the courtship, "the corn is planted before the fence is built." In most instances the couple marry either willingly or at the business end of a shortgun. Occasionally, however, the girl decides that she doesn't like her suitor enough for marriage. In this case the offspring is known as a "woods colt." Most are very frank about this and there is seldom any stigma attached to the child or mother. This group of mountain manners, along with many others, will not be found in any formal book of etiquette. They are merely part of the code that has been accepted and adhered to through the years by its people. 75 �Coon Huntin' People the world over are mighty prideful of their huntin' dogs. Mountain folks in North Carolina are no exception. There is just not much of anything a mountain man had "druther" do than take his prized coon dogs huntin'. Just imagine a cold, clear, fall night, with the moon a'shinin', a light frost in the makin', when the persimmons are good and ripe, a pack of restless dogs a 'whining and straining at the leash', your wife busy packing a few "vittles" to nibble on the way. Now coons and foxes are about the smartest of the wild animals, and there's always an argument between two groups of hunters as to which is the best huntin'. Personally, I prefer coon to fox. There's more excitement. A fox covers so much territory that you can't follow the hounds like you can coon huntin'. Listening to a good coon race can be as exciting as a modern day NASCAR Race with Petty, Foyt, and Johnson all battling for first place. Each man knows his own dogs' voices and can even tell by the tone how close he's getting to the quarry. I've seen and heard some mighty good stories on these trips, and some lies and 76 �arguments too. To accuse another man's dog of lyin' (that is, barking at the moon instead of the coon), is a fightin' excuse. People have to be mighty careful when talking of the other fellow's best friend. One of the best old huntin' stories I've heard contains a moral that is applicable today. It concerns three men: Misters A ·and B and Colonel C. It seems A and B had a serious "fallin' out" over a piece of worthless land and were not on speaking terms at all. Folks git mighty "riled" up over their land or dogs. Well, Mr. A went coon hun tin' one night and "unbeknoingest" to him, the family pet by the name of Trip had followed the other coon dogs to the woods. Every time the pack would hit a hot trail, little Trip would get excited and run around and around in circles out of pure exuberance. This, of course, got the pack so confused that they would lose the trail. Mr. A called and called "Here Trip! Come on Tripi That's a good pup! Here! Here!" until he was plumb hoarse. At long last, with his patience pretty exhausted, and his hunt ruin't, Mr. A picked up a pine knot, threw it at the little dog, and unluckily killed him dead as a door nail. Mr. A just sat there looking at Trip and cried, knowing how the children would feel about their pet, until finally a diabolical scheme was hatched in his vindictive mind. Little Trip was just the size of 77 �a nice plump possum, so why not dress him and send him to his mortal enemy, Mr. B. This would serve two purposes. The first was to get even with Mr. B. The second was that he could tell the kids that Trip had run away. So that's what he did. Well, it so happened that Mr. B was off on a journey, and Mrs. B didn't want to cook possum for just one person, so she sent it to Colonel C with her compliments. I imagine you've guessed by now what happened. Colonel C invited Mr. A to dinner. What did they have? Little dog Trip, all fixed up with salt, pork, sweet 'taters, and all the trimmings! After the meal, Mr. A rared back, picking his teeth, and complimented the good Colonel on a delicious meal. "By the way, Colonel, that's the best possum I've et in many a day. Where'd you catch him?" When Colonel C informed him of the hospitality of neighbor B, Mr. A turned pale, then green, excused himself hurriedly, ran out the back door, grabbed hold of a sapling tree and started praying, not to the Lord, but to Trip. He said, "Dear Trip, I called you once, twice, and even ten times, and you wouldn't come! Now I call you just once more." And Trip finally came. 78 �The Valley's First Industry This is not a story of heroes or villians. It is a short tale of a way of life for thousands of mountain people in earlier times. The first settlers established their homesteads where game was most plentiful, which was generally in the mountain regions. By the time most of the game was depleted, other farmers had already occupied the rich, level, bottom land which left mountain folks with poor, steep, rocky marginal land that a goat could hardly survive on. Roads were so bad that it was nearly impossible for a poor mountain farmer to get what little corn he could grow to market. A natural process evolved that enabled him to make a living by grinding his corn into meal, running it through a homemade still, and selling the resulting product as corn likker. To make good corn whiskey, one had to sprout some of the corn until it was just right before grinding. This was done by placing some of the corn in a sack and keeping it sprinkled with water. Mter the corn was sprouted, it would be ground in a coffee mill which would take many hours. This meal would then be poured into "still beer," which was similar to 79 �cooked corn mush. In three or four days this would ferment into a mash that would be run through a copper distillery. Most moonshine businesses began as a small family operation that produced only ten to twenty gallons of moonshine per day after weeks of preparation. Later on, as business became more profitable, everyone began making it in larger quantities. Competition was keen since there was a good profit in moonshine; that is, if you didn't get caught. Some family feuds were started over the business. As blockading operations became big business, making and delivering moonshine became a game-a fierce competitive game between the local and Federal officers and blockaders. Special cars were equipped to haul the liquor. Most of the blockaders used Ford cars with a Cadillac motor installed and extra springs on the back. A car thus equipped could haul 25 cases of liquor at a time. The driver's duty was to outrun and outguess their adversaries. The adversaries, federal agents most often referred to as Revenooers, were given the difficult task of catching the culprit at his still. A 30-year veteran federal agent once said that in all his years of chasing blockaders, he had never had his pistol out of his holster. He also said that the most dangerous part of his job was running 80 �into barbed wire fences while trying to catch a man at his still. Men caught making moonshine seldom had any animosity towards the federal agents. They knew that the agent was just doing his job and that he had just "outsmarted" them. Enforcement of bootlegging laws was largely left up to local sheriffs during Prohibition. This posed a quite a sensitive and peculiar problem for local law enforcers since the blockaders were quite often friends and neighbors of the sheriff and his deputies, and they realized that they were just trying to make a living for their families. There was also the matter of politics. Sheriffs were elected by popular vote, and in times past there were so many people involved in the moonshine business that they had quite an impact at election time. In the first place, many voters wanted to have a convenient source of supply for their own benefit. Then there was the attitude shared by many that voiced, "We don't want nobody from Washington telling us what we can or can't do." What generally happened was that the blockaders were allowed to operate rather freely until they were reported by some informer. The law then had to act, one way or the other. Most of the operators had at least one friend among the deputies who would try to get word to them that their still had been reported. 81 �82 �83 �Sometimes a deputy would tell his friend, "I hear you've been farming in the woods." That was warning enough for the blockader to move his still immediately. Informers came in both sexes and for many different reasons. Jealousy was one reason: "If my still got cut down, I'd see that John's still was caught also." Sometimes a wife, whose husband was drinking too much, would find out where it was coming from and report it to the sheriff. Occasionally, hunters would run across a still, and if they were ardent drys, they would report the location. Most of the old-timers knew who the moonshiners were and where they were operating. If they needed to replenish their likker supply, they would go to the nearest blockader and say something like this: ''Me and Joe and Paul would like to coon hunt a little tonight. Do you know where the best place is? If we see anything, we won't tell." One coon hunter wasn't quite so wise to the ways of the mountains. He and his companions ran across a still one night, and he made the mistake of telling it around town. A friendly deputy told the operator about it, and the next time that group went "a coon huntin' " and came back to where they had parked their car, they found nothing but a piece of junk. Blackmail became a lucrative venture for some law enforcement officials. It seems that in 84 �those days retailers of contraband were required to pay some member of the sheriffs department an "insurance" fee. This fee was paid to assure the operator of a still that their establishment wouldn't be raided before sufficient warning was given. Occasionally, a deputy would become greedy and demand additional "insurance" payments. One operator's refusal to pay a double fee led to the downfall and end to Russell Mull's moonshine making. His was one of the most colorful careers in the business. Mull was the owner of a small country store and a chicken farm. These two businesses enabled him to buy grain, sugar, jars, and bottles used in the manufacture and sale of whiskey. His operation was unusual because of the quality he exercised in the manufacture of his whiskey and the honesty with which he dealt with his customers. Mull's business was so profitable that he sent out calendars to his customers at Christmas. He took so much pride in the quality of his product that he had labels printed to paste on the pint bottles. To get a pint of Mull's moonshine, one had only to drive back of the house, toot the car horn, tell who you were, and receive the merchandise through the bedroom window. After refusing to pay a local deputy more "insurance," Mull's premises were raided and his moonshine confiscated. Mull was tried 85 �Label from Russell Mull's moonshine 86 �before a federal judge where some the area's most prominent citizens testified to the good character of Russell Mull and his role as an outstanding community member. Following the trial, Mull disposed of all his whiskey except for two kegs which he buried in his garden. From that day until he died, Russell Mull never sold another pint. He joined the church, attended regularly, and became one of the largest contributors to the Baptist church near his home. Years Jater while discussing the "good old days," I asked Russ if he knew of anyone who sold good stuff like he used to handle, and the answer was "NOI" It was then that he told me about the kegs. Finally, he dug the kegs up and brought me a jar as a gift. In my opinion, there's nothing in the ABC store that could touch it. 87 �Kickapoo Medicine Co. In the 1800s, traveling medicine shows constituted one of the most popular and rewarding (to promoters) entertainments to be seen throughout the country. The shows probably had their beginnings with loquacious peddlers who would hawk their homemade remedies from their backpacks or wagons. Since most of the so called "patent" medicines could be prepared the night before using spring water, sugar, a little alcohol, and flavoring, the peddlers made much more profit from these items than from goods they had to buy and resell. The profit potential was so great that enterprising merchants gradually increased the entertainment features to attract crowds, until some actually had as many as two or three hundred actors in different shows. One of the largest of its kind was the Kickapoo Indian Medicine Company which employed 300 Indians, none of them Kickapoos, from Indian agents and traveled by train instead of wagons. One testimonial that they used was as follows: "I have been troubled for years with a disease that baffled the doctors. I finally bought 88 �and took one 25-cent box of Kickapoo Indian Worm Killer, and soon enough, to my great astonishment, I passed a tapeworm measuring, head and all, a full fifty feet." In 1838, P. T. Barnum went into the medicine show business with a German named Proler. They traveled in a stylish wagon promoting what they called "Genuine Bear Grease" which promised to cover a bald head with beautiful, glossy, curly hair. One of the early "tent shows" that came to the area regularly was owned by Jack King who set up on vacant lots. After the first few performances, however, my parents declared this show "off limits" because their jokes were not exactly of the "parlor" variety, and the actresses showed a little more skin than little boys were supposed to see. If I remember correctly, King himself acted as the comedian. He called himself "Freckles," sported a red wig, snaggled teeth, and had large freckles painted on his face. He often encouraged local talent to perform when the show held its amateur nights. Before Hollywood took over the entertainment field, the Redpath Chautauqua had a regular circuit in this area. Their tents were erected on old ball park grounds where they put on stage shows, musicals, lectures, and other uplifting performances. The stage show I remember best was a com89 �edy called "Sweet Clover." This was a play in which the star took a pleasure trip to South America on a ship named Sweet Clover only to discover that the vessel hauled fertilizer along with the passengers. When one of the actors pronounced the name of the ship, you could actually smell the odor, and for weeks afterwards little boys would go around town holding their noses and hollering, "Sweet Clover." Watching television commercials today makes one wonder if anything has changed except for the medium of communication. Instead of catarrh, flux, consumption, and the vapors, we now have "tired blood." If you believe what they tell us, all it takes to put the doctors out of business is a little Sine-Aid, Geritol, Fern-Iron, Hadacol, and Lydia E. Pinkam's Pink Pills for Pale People. 90 �Brown Mountain Spooks "An orange colored light, looking like a ball of fire, seemed to come straight up from the trees on the distant mountain top. It grew bigger and brighter, flickered for three or four seconds, then went down again, disappearing in the tree tops." (The State). The ·above is a description of these mysterious lights that seems to be average. If three different persons were to see the lights at the same time, you might get three different descriptions: one might say the light was orange; one, green; and the other, blue. Number one says it came up, drifted to the left and went out; number two says to the right; and number three might say it went straight up. If there was a fourth person, he might say he couldn't see them at all. My first sight of the "spooks" was in 1925 when my school class went to the top of Gingercake Mountain for a combination picnic and "light looking." It was so difficult to point out the correct area in which to look at night that I don't believe more than half the class saw anything except each other. Over the years since that trip, I have heard many stories attempting to explain the "lights," but none are very con91 �vincing. Brown Mountain is located in Burke County, about 20 miles north of Morganton, North Carolina off North Carolina Highway 181, and about eight miles southeast of Gingercake Mountain at Jonas Ridge. It's a long, straightbacked ridge about 3,500 feet in elevation with numerous outcroppings of huge, brown and grey colored rock formations. As a child, I had heard that the National Geographic Society, in cooperation with some federal government agency had studied these lights without finding any satisfactory solution -at least to the local people. They seemed to believe that they were a reflection or refraction from railroad train lights in the neighboring county, but then the old-timers recalled that in 1916 during the "Big Flood," all bridges were washed out, no trains running, and still the lights could be seen. In 1913, the Charlotte Observer had an account of the "spooks" with no apparent solution. I read one story, I believe, in the WinstonSalem ] ournal, about several men who were investigating the lights from the top of Brown Mountain itself when suddenly the "light" appeared, and they all fell to the ground unconscious. This story I find hard to believe. My guess is that the falling down and resultant stupor was caused by the illicit products of a nearby still instead of any act of nature. 92 �A local reputable insurance salesman, and so far as I know, not addicted to tall tales or moonshine, gives the following account of his experiences: Several other men and I took a jeep to the top of Brown Mountain in 1963 just to see if we could substantiate these lights. After waiting in the pitch darkness for a long time until we were about to give up and go home, suddenly from nowhere, and from no apparent source, we could see each other in the dark, and even distinguish our finger nails in this ghostly light. It lasted perhaps five to ten seconds, and we were in the dark again. I don't know what it was, but I do know it was." Over the years there have been numerous efforts to capitalize on the "lights" by constructing towers, seats, or parking facilities and charging an admission fee. None of them have been successful, for the lights can be seen from so many vantage points. The Blue Ridge Parkway, Linville Mountain, Blowing Rock, and many other places provide excellent locations to view the phenomena. 93 �The Ice Man One of my heroes as a child was the neighborhood ice man. I used to watch for that guy in the summer like I did for Santa Claus in the winter. I suppose my supreme ambition, however, was to remain a little boy forever. Growing up was a disaster which I still resent. It was so wonderful just to blink an eye and become captain of a pirate ship on the Spanish Main, swinging my cutlass in one hand and pistol in the other. Or I could straddle a stick and ride my bucking bronco through the cow pasture on to the wide western plains. I'm sure that I lassoed more longhorns, branded more calves, and shot more Indians and outlaws than John Wayne ever did in his prime. Seeing a wild grapevine hanging from a tree transformed me immediately into Tarzan, swinging from limb to limb. No matter that the vine invariably broke, dumping me into a bunch of poison oak and honeysuckle, it was worth it. On a hot, dusty day in August when the bell on the ice wagon signaled its arrival, every kid in the neighborhood would try to be first to get the "snow" that the ice man made sawing on his block of ice. If you were first and lucky, you 94 �might even get a few slivers of ice from the wagon bed. In those days everyone had an icebox since there was no such thing as an electric refrigerator in these parts. Those boxes were built quite like refrigerators today except the upper section was designed to hold a 75- or 100-pound block of ice. Each household was supplied a square cardboard poster with a small window in the bottom. On the back was a circular cardboard "wheel" that could be turned, exposing through the window the number of pounds of ice desired. The bell on the wagon was to alert the housewife to post her sign. Books of tickets were available at the ice house or from the deliveryman good for 10, 15, 25, 50 or 75 pounds. The ice wagon had a roof over the top to keep out the sun, but was open at the back with a wide step. The horse pulling the wagon was trained to stop at each house along the street. When the iceman saw a sign that read 25 pounds, he would pick up his saw and measure the correct size of the big block, and that's when the fun began. As he pulled that long, coarse saw across the ice, "ice dust" or "snow" would squirt out from both sides while the neighborhood kids were drooling back of the wagon for a chance to scoop up a handful. The deliveryman wore a leather or rubber 95 �apron with an extra piece to throw across his shoulder. After the ice was cut to size, he would pick it up with his tongs, throw it on his shoulder, and carry it off as it if were as light as a feather. One of my chores at home was to empty the pan from under the ice box each day as the ice melted into water. If I forgot it, which was not infrequently, the pan would overflow all over the pantry floor, and the mop I had to get. This happened so often that my father finally drilled a hole in the floor, put a funnel in the hole so the water just dripped out into the basement. Most every Saturday, in very hot weather, we would order extra ice to made ice cream in one of those old-fashioned, hand-cranked freezers. I sure hated to turn the handle, but I didn't mind eating the finished product. 96 �Victorian Foibles Remember the automobile tail fins of a few years ago? I have often wondered if anyone considered those useless, ridiculous, monstrosities attractive. I'm inclined to believe that some practical joker was just trying to discover how far we idiot consumers would go before rebelling. Yet, ours is not the only generation that has been made ridiculous by designers of fashion and custom. Consider the Victorian era. Queen Victoria was crowned queen of England in 1838 and two years later married Prince Albert, the gentleman whose picture has been on millions and millions of tobacco cans. She reigned for more than 50 years during the height of the British Empire's most glorious days. For the 50th anniversary of her reign, England put on a spectactular show, called the Golden Jubilee, with dignitaries from all over the world paying honor to this most distinguished lady. Ten years later, an even larger pageant, called the Diamond Jubilee, was displayed with all members of the Commonwealth honored. The period of years just before, during, and after her reign has been known as the Victorian era, which, on a comparative basis, had some remarkable fashions 97 �Speaking of tall fins, did you ever see a "bustle?" This was a wire cage about the size of a peck basket that women fastened over their posterior under their dresses to accent this part of their anatomy. Also in fashion were hoop skirts with a four to five foot spread. Even everyday dresses were long, nearly to the ground, so that girl watchers were fortunate to even catch a glimpse of a trim ankle. Men who were looking for a wife had to take a whale of a chance. Though it was not uncommon to catch a glimpse of the "great divide" on the ballroom floor, he never knew for sure whether his bride-to-be had two legs or not. The word "leg'' was taboo when applied to a female. It was called a "limb." Makes me think of a song they used to sing: "After the ball was over, Jennie took out her glass eye; Put her cork leg in the comer, took off her bottle of dye. Put her false teeth in the water, hung up her wig on the walls, Then all went to dreamland ... after the ball." All babies back then were either delivered by the stork or found in a cabbage patch. Even the word "sex" was taboo. So were many other things that are common today. Undergarments worn by women were referred to, if at all, as unmentionables; corsets were a must and sometimes required two people to lace them up the back. Any girl caught dancing, playing cards, smoking, or dating without a chaperone was considered a ••fast" woman whose morals 98 �were questionable. Aunt Nancy Jones, the respected midwife or granny woman who delivered more area babies than all the doctors combined, told about one very prominent, straight-laced, Christian woman who was confined. After an examination Aunt Nancy said, "Mrs. G., I believe you are going to have twins." "Nonsense," replied Mrs. G. "Only Common people have twins." · Over the years Victorian furniture became more and more fancy with all kinds of geegaws, scrolls, crowns, and inlays upon inlays. Many chests and washstands had marble tops which are still in great demand today. Many towns still have a number of houses built during this period that have very fancy "gingerbread" trimming, domes, steeples, gazebos, catwalks, and all kinds of ornamentation on the roofs. Like the tail fins, these things had no practical purpose, but were merely ornamental, or perhaps an expression by the owners of their newly acquired affluence. 99 �Don't Slam the Door "I didn't mean to slam the door. In fact, I didn't really slam it, just pushed it open and it slammed itself." I guess my poor mother admonished me hundreds of times about that screen door, but when your best friend calls for you to come out and play, what's a boy gonna do? He just doesn't walk out the door. He runs. That's when that contrary door would slam itself. Then, when halfway across the street, Mother would call, "Alexander!" When she used that tone of voice, Alexander would jump. "Come back here and shut that door properly." So I would reluctantly go back open the door, and close it very, very carefully. With so many houses air conditioned today, the old screen doors have about passed into oblivion. Now, with the newfangled door closures, one doesn't hear those old-timey slams and bangs that used to echo up and down the street in the summertime. Gone too are the spacious front porches where neighbors would sit and fraternize in the shank of the evening and courtin' couples would snuggle up in the swing. Every porch had j ardineers and pots of ferns and flowers, comfortable rocking chairs, a 100 �porch swing, and best of all, people. With our doors tightly closed now, we miss the sights and sounds of the old neighborhood. Kids on their tricycles, others scrambling after lightning bugs, the neighbor's tom cat stalking sparrows, couples strolling around the block and stopping to pass the time of day. It isn't that people are less friendly than they used to be. They are just more self-centered and afraid. We come home after work and unlock the door that use to stay open, cut on the air conditioning, shut the door, and turn on the "boobtube." We have forgotten what we are missing. My grandfather's log house, which he inherited from his father, originally consisted of one large room with a fireplace which was the combined living and master bedroom. Thesecond floor housed a loft bedroom. About fifteen feet from the main house was a smaller two-story log house that was used for a kitchen with the second story for the hired help. All cooking was done over the large fireplaces. Connecting these two buildings was a roof over that was called a "dog trot" where the numerous hound dogs slept curled against the chimney. When I became old enough to spend some time there, two wings had been added to the main house. One was a lean-to on the back in which was housed the new kitchen and dining room. The kitchen was equipped with a new 101 �.. Majestic" wood stove and the dining room with a long homemade walnut table that would easily seat 12-14 people. The other wing was attached to the end of the house and contained the parlor, guest room, and additional bedrooms upstairs. At the time of my first visit, no screens had been installed on the windows, and bugs, bees, and flies could fly in one window and hopefully, fly out the other. To keep the flies off the food were what we called ..shoo-flies." These were long hickory switches or sticks with shredded paper attached which, when waved through the air, would keep the flies jumping. When fly paper became plentiful, sheets were scattered around with long streamers hanging from ceilings. And, of course, across the front of the whole house was a big front porch. I don't recall any old houses that didn't have front porches, even the tiny one-room cabins. I remember once complaining to my father about a neighbor who had effectively cut off our ..short-cut" through his yard by putting a fence around his whole lot. Dad said then that the bad part about fencing other people out was that those who did it also fenced themselves in. I suppose that's what we are doing to ourselves when we shut the door and cut on the TV. If you don't have a porch, try sitting in your yard in the moonlight; listen to the katydids, watch the lightning bugs and say hello to your 102 �neighbors. You'll be glad you did. 103 �Longjohns and Featherbeds In the early part of this century "central heating'' was unheard in this part of the world. There was such a thing as "steam heat," used mostly in public buildings, schools, etc., that consisted of a central steam boiler, located generally in the basement, that was connected by iron pipes to those rattling, hissing, moaning gadgets called radiators. Central heating was the expression used later on to describe a large furnace located in the basement with just one iron grill situated above the furnace. That was the "central" and only source of the heat. The great majority of homes throughout this whole country were heated with fireplaces. Smaller houses had only one or two fireplaces, while larger two-story houses had as many as six to twelve. It took a lot of wood and a lot of poking to keep those fires going. In my father's home, which was built around 1900, there were seven fireplaces and a flue for a cook stove. I don't remember that we ever had more than three or four fires lit at one time, and that would only be when we had a house full of relatives. I don't remember that any of the older homes were insulated, and on a cold windy 104 �night every room in the house was mighty drafty. When a woman came in from the cold, the first thing she would do after taking off her coat, was back up to that fireplace. If no strangers were present, she would lift her skirt in the back to warm her backside. It got to be such a habit that I have seen men and women walk into a room in the summertime and head directly for the fireplace or stove. Here is where the "long johns," heavy knit or flannel underwear with long sleeves and legs, come in. Along about Thanksgiving out of the cedar chests or moth balls came those familiar garments for every member of the family. Children hated them, but they were possibly the only things that warded off pheumonia. Girls in particular despised those itchy winter garments, primarily because there was no way they could hide the bulky wrinkles under the black stockings of the day. Little boys just didn't care. Their stockings were always droopy and wrinkled anyway. Another practical garment in those days was the "red flannels." These were not necessarily red in color, but were generally referred to by that name. Those were sleeping garments, longsleeved night gowns made of flannel. They would sure keep you warm. However, my biggest problem in the winter was getting to my bedroom from that hot glowing fire in the fireplace. I had to run down that long, cold, 105 �unheated hall and then up those cold stairs and into a cold bed. Some of you old-timers may still remember the old "feather beds," a mattress stuffed with goose down. Bedded down in one of those beds with a couple of comforters or quilts on top, there was no way you could freeze to death. When you hair turns grey or falls out, and you have a lot of miles under your belt, it is pleasant to remember the old horse and buggy days. The times were less frantic, and the main topic of conversation was the weather. 106 �Winning is Everything Would you know what Harley Goode, Pat Abernathy, "Slats" Ledbetter, Mike Spainhour, Iverson Davis, Lona Jaynes, Will Patton, "Mig'' Billings, Worth Parker, Napoleon Avery and Hamp Erwin had in common? They were heroes, that's what-baseball heroes, and along with many others, were granted the red carpet treatment by the area's loyal fans. This area was a hotbed of rabid baseball fans with fine teams, community pride and a fierce desire to win. Their motto was, "We'll win, one way or the other." If we lost on the field, chances were some fans would try to win in the stands or bring home some cracked heads for the effort. There were no rules concerning eligibility of players in the early days, so a lot of tricks were employed by all the teams. The only thing that really counted was to win. When it became apparent that some rules would have to be observed, leagues were organized over the country and given ratings such as double A, triple A, etc., so that each team could compete against others of equal strength. These were called semi-pro and were generally not allied with "farm" teams that belonged to the Big League teams. Until strict rules were observed, it was not 107 �108 �uncommon for a team to import a "star" pitcher from out of state for just one or two games. Once when the home team played Hickory, the Hickory team brought most of the best players from the Charlotte team and beat the pants off of us. For the next home game, the Morganton team brought a star pitcher from Tennessee and some players from Asheville to beat the tar out of Hickory. Since gate receipts were seldom sufficient to cover costs, many area folks contributed their time and money toward the support of local teams. Community members were especially supportive of their teams. One season alone drew more than 66,000 fans at the ball park. Downtown stores closed during games because all their customers and employees were at the ball game. The players themselves were rarely professional ball players. Most considered baseball their summer or second job. One area player, who was a four-star collegiate athlete, funded a medical school education by playing baseball during his summers. An amusing story among the old-timers is that of the cement finisher who doubled as a ball player. He had to finish up a job and couldn't get to the game until the ninth inning. He rushed into the park covered with wet cement, grabbed a bat, and hit the winning home run. 109 �Child's Play Unfortunately, I'm not up to date on the younger generation's activities, but I can recollect a lot of the games that kids used to play. We didn't have the toys, bikes, television, or manufactured games that they have today, so most childhood activities consisted of things that cost no money, only a joy of life. Younger boys and girls played together until they reached the age at which separate games were more appealing to them. Little girls wanted to play "house" or "paper dolls," and little boys would play ··cowboys and Indians." During this transition stage, they would sometimes swap: ··rll play cowboy with you if you'll play house with me." One of the earliest group games was ••Ring Around the Roses." Children would hold hands in a circle while singing this little song: Ring around the roses, A pocket of posies. One - two - three, Squat, little Josie. At the word "squat" everyone would squat and the last one down was ··out." Do you remember ··Drop the handkerchief?" Children would circle as above and whoever 110 �was "it" would run around the outside and drop a handkerchief behind someone. If that person was able to outrun the other back to the starting point, then the other was "if' and would have to do the same. Other group games were "Button, Button, Who's Got the Button?," "Kick the Can," "Blind Man's Bluff," "Gossip," "Giant Steps," "Pretty Girl's Station," "Pop the Whip," "In and Out the Window," or "London Bridge is Falling Down." "London Bridge" was especially popular with us, and I still remember the song we sang while playing: London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady. Kids would form two lines, holding hands across the lane singing this song. Those at the end of the line would run through the lane and at the words "My Fair Lady," the gate would close by bringing the arms down around whoever happened to be there. "Red Rover" was played by forming two lines, holding hands as tightly as possible and chanting "Red Rover, Red Rover, let (calling someone's name in the other line) come over." Then the one called would try to break through the line and if unsuccessful, he would have to join the opposition. When there were not enough children for group games, there was always "Hopscotch," "Skip the Rope," "Jack Rocks," "Marbles," 111 �"Holey-Roley," "Paper Dolls," or "MumbleyPeg." Now "Mumbley-Peg'' was a good one. Played with a dual bladed pocket knife, the short blade was opened fully and the long blade only halfway. Balancing the knife on the ground with the forefinger under the handle, you would flip it into the air. If the knife came down on its side, it didn't count. If it rested on the big blade and the handle, the count was 25. If the big blade stuck into the ground, it counted 50. If both the small and large blades were touching the ground, the count was 75. If the small blade stuck up, the count was 100. The loser would have to kneel on the ground with hands behind his back and pull a peg or stick out of the ground with his teeth. We used to make what we called "tractors" using only a rubber band, match stick, spool and a piece of crayon. We would take the empty spool and put a rubber band through the hole, fastening one end of the band to one end of the spool, cut off a piece of crayon or bee's wax about the size of a washer with a hole in the middle for the rubber band to pass through, then stick a kitchen match in the loop of the band. When wound up, it would crawl along the floor or ground like a Caterpillar tractor. A trip to Asbury's Pond for a swim on a hot afternoon was a real treat for us youngsters. The admission fee was ten cents and worth every 112 �penny of it. Before the days of autos, radio, or television, the thing I remember with the most pleasure in the evenings were the tales my father would tell around the fire. It would always begin with, "Dad, tell us a story," and generally he would. The tales were completely ridiculous, but delightful for us children. 113 �Tin Lizzies & Whimmey-Dittles They called 'em "Tin Lizzies," "Flivers," or "Skeeters," and on cold frosty mornings when they wouldn't start, they called them some other names that you ladies might not want to hear. Scornful, yet affectionate names were given to one of the simplest, most useful, enduring mechanical devices devised by man-the Model T Ford. It is probably second only to the invention of the wheel and the wheelbarrow in the impact it had on the world. The manufacture of the Model T and the development of the assembly line was the pattern for the Industrial Revolution which is the basis of our prosperity today. The early Fords had canvas tops, open on all sides with a two-piece windshield which one could open in hot weather. There was no door on the driver's side of the car. The wheels had wooden spokes like those on old wooden wagon wheels. A magneto which had to be cranked by hand was used in place of a battery. In the early days, people would heat some rocks or bricks and put them in a sack to keep their feet from freezing while on a winter's drive. Later, someone invented a contraption that fastened onto the manifold to bring heat, 114 �115 �along with exhaust fumes, into the vehicle. The Model T sat very high off the road in order to cross over stumps and enable it to ford creeks or rivers without dragging. The roads were so bad that most cars could not make it from one town to another, but the faithful Model T could go almost anywhere. A Model T that was no longer on the road still had its uses. The last task I remembered for those old flivers was as wood saws. After the body was removed, a saw rack could be fastened to the frame, and when one wheel was jacked off the ground, it would really make the saw buzz. When the Ford Motor Company ceased manufacturing the Model T there were literally thousands still operating. Back then, kids in high school would chip in to buy a Model T for about $50. They would strip it down and have brackets made to lower the center of gravity. We called them "skeeters," and a kid with just a little mechanical ability could keep one running with a couple of tin cans, some bailing wire, a pair of pliers, and a screwdriver. Younger children had they playtoys too. We had things like "whimmey-dittles," a toy whittled out of wood that was fun to make as well as play with. Rag dolls were easily made or repaired with a needle and thread. Skateboards were made using just one skate. One half of a skate was attached to each end of a plank about 116 �two feet long. They were not as fast nor as dangerous as the skateboards in use today, but a lot of fun just the same. 117 �Shooting the Anvil Before the days of split second communication, country people had their own methods of spreading news or celebration. Various forms of fireworks, gunblasts, whistles, and bells were used to alert folks of election results and holiday festivities. One of the most popular forms of noisemaking for the old-timers was known as "shooting the anvil." This was done by scooping out a depression in a chopping block or on top of a stump. The hole was then filled with black gunpowder and covered by an anvil. A mighty blow on top of the anvil with a sledge hammer resulted in an explosion whose boom could be heard for miles. Once the anvil was used to spread the wrong news through a mountain community. The year was 1912, and the setting was Swain County on the Little Tennessee River. Woodrow Wilson was running for President on the Democratic ticket against Teddy Roosevelt, the Bull Moose party's representative, and William Howard Taft, the Republican candidate. Most mountain people were staunch Roosevelt supporters, and when news mistakenly filtered into the mountain community that 118 �Roosevelt had won, this called for a grand celebration. In Swain County they used two anvils instead of one. One anvil was on the ground with black powder sprinkled on top. The second anvil capped the first, and the powder was lit with a red hot wire or poker. To make the sound carry further, they would always go to the top of the nearest mountain. The anvil's resulting noise was like a clap of thunder, and the origin of the boom could always be spotted by the large bonfire built there. It happened to be Saturday night when word came in and the shooting started. Just imagine the fun. A half dozen bonfires on as many different mountain tops with thunder claps answering each other from peak to peak. They were enjoying it so much that no one noticed that midnight had passed and they were actually shooting their anvils on Sunday morning, except the preacher! You can imagine what the sermon that Sunday was about. It was four days later before the community discovered that Woodrow Wilson had, in fact, won the election. Children were not without their own noise makers. When I was a youngster, the only noise makers we were allowed to use were firecrackers and not very big ones at that. We had to use a "joss" stick, which was a slow burning wick, to light firecrackers and roman 119 �candles instead of matches. Regardless of the weather, as the old year gave way to the new, we would always go out on the front porch and listen to the noisy celebrations. Welcoming in the New Year was a cause for much celebration. Factory whistles would blow, bells would ring, guns and firecrackers would go off while the old Atwater-Kent radio was blaring out, "Should Auld Acquaintances Be Forgot?" The town of Cherryville still boasts of its own "New Year Shooters." This group of men and boys keep the ancient practice of blasting the New Year in alive. On New Year's Eve they gather from miles around, travel from place to place, and shoot their guns and firecrackers most of the night. 120 �Childhood Memories Things that are most memorable from childhood are those that were either pleasurable, frightening, very happy or unhappy episodes. My first chore around the house was to carry in wood for the kitchen stove. My next chore was to feed and water the chickens. I will never forget that ornery old rooster who used to flog me every time my back was turned. Finally, after being conned by my older brother, I learned to milk the cow and will always remember how that ungrateful beast used to switch her tail, loaded with cockleburs, against the side of my face, or how she would raise her foot and stick it in the milk pail just when I had about finished milking. Romance was brought into my life at the very early age of three years. Mary Tucker Jeter lived just across the street from our home on Avery Avenue, and we both had older sisters who had acquired a new-fangled picture-taking machine called a Kodak. After shooting up all the local scenery, they decided they needed some human interest pictures for posterity, so they persuaded Tuck and me to pose, hugging each other. This early experience was to have dire consequences during my first day at school. 121 �Back then, first grade was taught in two sections. The first section of children came around 9:00 a.m. and stayed until noon. The second section, which I was assigned to, came about noon. On this first day everyone came early and 122 �waited until the first section was dismissed. When I arrived, I could hardly believe my eyes. There was about a dozen of the prettiest little girls ever assembled in one place, all dressed up with bow ribbons in their hair. It was enough to make a "man-of-the-world" lose his cool. True to my early training, I decided that the thing to do was to hug every one of them, but would you believe that those little varmints wouldn't cooperate at all? They squealed, hollered, and ran, creating so much commotion that our teacher came out of her class to find out what the riot was all about. When she discovered that it was only a miniature wolf in the biddie pen, she grabbed the would-be Don Juan by the ear and sat him in a chair in front of all the strange kids in the first section. I can tell you, except for making ugly faces, it was many years before I had anything else to do with women. Back then, the national pastime was not baseball, football, or golf. It was marbles. Words like "taw," "agate," "pea-dab," "glassie," "steelie," or "knucks" were as commonplace as home runs, touchdowns, or field goals today. There was not much paving or traffic in those days, and everywhere one would go, he could see the circles drawn on the sand-clay street or walkways. Around these circles would be numerous barefoot boys on their knees, shooting marbles for fun or for "keeps." 123 �Some boys practiced and played so much that their knuckles would become raw and bloody. Many of the "pros" would have leather slings made to cover their knuckles so that they wouldn't become so worn, and their mothers would make knee pads to save patching so many pants. The best shooters didn't like to play for fun if they could find someone to play for "keeps." Another game was to dig several holes in a straight line, and each player, in turn, would try to shoot his "taw" into the holes. If he missed, his taw would remain where it lay until another player could shoot. If one player was able to hit the other's taw, the loser was out of the game. If they were playing "knucks," the loser would have to clinch his hand into a first, place it on the ground, and the winner would shoot his taw at the knuckles. It could be pretty painful, especially if the other player had a steelie for a taw. Baseball was not very popular with the little kids because of the lack of equipment. Virtually no one had gloves, mitts, real bats or balls. Bats were made like a paddle from a piece of plank. Balls were merely strings wound around something like a marble and would unravel with each hard blow of the bat. Nevertheless, what was lacking in equipment was made up by noisy enthusiasm. The two most exciting days in the year were 124 �Easter and Christmas. On Easter Sunday, if the weather was warm and clear, I could take off my winter shoes, roll up my "long handles" and go barefoot. Just thinking how good that cool, green grass felt squishing around between my toes makes me want to try it again. This didn't mean that the "long handles" came off at Easter. By no means could we get rid of that itchy blanket before May 1. Christmas, with all the excitement of Santa Claus and presents, also brought some unusual goodies. In addition to the fruitcake soaked with grape juice, there were always chocolate, silver, coconut, and caramel cakes. The biggest trouble was trying to decide which one, and only one, piece you would rather have. Remember when the streets were sand-clay? Sand would be hauled from the river in wagons and spread over the red clay street, making a pretty good surface for the traffic at that time. When the fresh sand was spread, all the children in the neighborhood would gather in the streets to build their sand castles, dams, and fortifications until the first rains would muddy them up. Then they would take to the trees for their games. Some places were off limits to the young'uns. One in particular was a little one-room, frame building on the corner of Queen and North Greene streets in Morganton. This store had no windows and only one door. Through the walls 125 �were little holes, said to be bullet holes. This was a barroom where they sold "likker," and we were not even allowed to go close to it for fear we might hear something we were not supposed to hear. During "court week," all vacant lots were filled with men and their wagons, horses, and campfires at night, which made a fascinating sight for a youngster, but this also was taboo. These men were known to sometimes drink, cuss, and "meby" fight a little, and kids were not supposed to know about this either. I remember the false armistice during World War I when everyone thought the war was over. Bells were ringing, bonfires were built in the streets, and it looked like an old-fashioned Fourth of July celebration. I celebrated by buying a whole nickel's worth of candy at one time. People were so exhuberant and happy for the false one that when the real armistice was announced, all the zip was gone. For many years after this war, one could see the army jackets, wrap-around "leggins," puttees, hats and overseas caps still worn by the ex-soldiers and their kin. Nothing was wasted back then, and even today you can occasionally see one of those jackets still in use. It was long about then that I got my first lasting impression of war. Every neighborhood had its own gang of boys who played together, had their own territory, and with the war going 126 �on, marched and played soldier. On this occasion we were invaded by a gang from another neighborhood. Nobody really' did any fighting. It was all bluff. Maybe a few small rocks were thrown and the invading group retreated. It was here I learned that it's sometimes better to let well-enough alone. I thought I could lick this other boy with one hand tied behind me, so I started chasing him. I ran after him until I was out of breath when suddenly he turned around and poked me right in the nose, and the blood started flying. That ended the battle, and I haven't cared for war since. 127 �about the author j. alexander mull and gordon boger were both longtime residents of Morganton, North Carolina. They were also frequent collaborators having written Mountain Yarns, Legends, and Lore, and Tales of Old Burke together. Boger passed away in Morganton, North Carolina, on October 3, 1986. Mull passed away in 1982, also in Morganton. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Subject The topic of the resource Catawba River Valley (N.C. and S.C.) Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appalachian Consortium Press Publications Description An account of the resource This collection contains digitized monographs and collections from the Appalachian Consortium Press. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Appalachian Consortium Press Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Appalachian Consortium Press Date Issued Date of formal issuance (e.g., publication) of the resource. June 1, 2017 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource <a title="Digital Scholarship and Initiatives" href="http://library.appstate.edu/services/digital-scholarship-and-initiatives" target="_blank">Digital Scholarship and Initiatives</a> Publication Digital Publisher Digital Republication Appalachian State University Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Recollections of the Catawba Valley Description An account of the resource <span>Published in 1983, </span><em>Recollections of the Catawba Valley</em><span> is a selection of family stories, local history, and mountain folklore chosen by Alexander Mull and Gordon Boger who were longtime citizens of the valley in North Carolina. The Mull family was one of the earliest settlers in the region, and Boger, although born elsewhere, was considered a native of the valley. Some of the stories in this volume were originally published in The News Herald of Morganton, as both authors were longtime contributors to the paper. W. H. Plemmons, second President of Appalachian State University, wrote the foreward.<br /></span><br /><a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=1D2noiMjRifKl_UJ_JDGHi-RgaIqROLBz" target="_blank">Download EPub<br /><br /></a><a title="UNC Press Link" href="https://www.uncpress.org/book/9781469638379/recollections-of-the-catawba-valley/" target="_blank">UNC Press Print on Demand</a> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Mull, J. Alexander Boger, Gordon Language A language of the resource English Subject The topic of the resource Catawba River Valley (N.C. and S.C.) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Appalachian Consortium Press Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1983 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Catawba River Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF E-books Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed" target="_blank">https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed</a> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a title="UA 76 Appalachian Consortium records" href="https://appstate-speccoll.lyrasistechnology.org/repositories/2/resources/9" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"> UA 76 Appalachian Consortium records </a> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. <a title="Appalachian Consortium Press Publications" href="https://omeka.library.appstate.edu/collections/show/82" target="_blank"> Appalachian Consortium Press Publications</a> Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1980s Catawba Valley folklore history recollections residents tales https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/85e724ab9a17938d376a516f4542c769.pdf 7c3b10362d8aa7364e958cc003315900 PDF Text Text �LIZNS MONDAY AND OTHER POEMS Community Enrichment Series �Appalachian Consortium Press Boone, North Carolina �LIZ~S MONDAY AND OTHER POEMS BY BEITIE SELLERS �The Appalachian Consortium was a non-profit educational organization composed of institutions and agencies located in Southern Appalachia. From 1973 to 2004, its members published pioneering works in Appalachian studies documenting the history and cultural heritage of the region. The Appalachian Consortium Press was the first publisher devoted solely to the region and many of the works it published remain seminal in the field to this day. With funding from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and the National Endowment for the Humanities through the Humanities Open Book Program, Appalachian State University has published new paperback and open access digital editions of works from the Appalachian Consortium Press. www.collections.library.appstate.edu/appconsortiumbooks This work is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND license. To view a copy of the license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses. Original copyright © 1986 by the Appalachian Consortium Press. ISBN (pbk.: alk. Paper): 978-1-4696-3652-8 ISBN (ebook): 978-1-4696-3654-2 Distributed by the University of North Carolina Press www.uncpress.org �ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Acknowledgement is gratefully made to the editors and publishers of the following journals and anthologies, in the pages of which some of these poems have previous, ly appeared: APPALACHIAN HERITAGE, BLACK JACK 11, THE CHATTAHOOCHEE REVIEW, THE GARFIELD LAKE REVIEW, GEORGIA JOURNAL, GREEN RIVER REVIEW, POEM 50, THE REACH OF SONG II, THE REACH OF SONG IV, THE REACH OF SONG, V, TEACHING ENGLISH IN THE TWO.YEAR COLLEGE. �This page intentionally left blank �IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY GRANDMOfHER, COSBY SEALE PURSLEY, WHO TOLD ME STORIES OF BRASSTOWN �This page intentionally left blank �Books by Bettie Sellers WESTWARD FROM BALD MOUNTAIN 1974 APPALACHIAN CAROLS 1975 SPRING ONIONS AND CORNBREAD 1978 MORNING OF THE REDTAILED HAWK 1981 LIZ~S MONDAY 1986 �This page intentionally left blank �THE TIME: SOME PARTS OF THE 19TH CENTURY THE PLACE: THE BRASSmWN VALLEY WHICH RUNS WEST THROUGH GEORGIA AND NORTH CAROLINA FROM THE HEIGHTS OF BRASSmWN BALD THE CHARACTERS: SOME REAL, SOME IMAGINED FROM smRIES mLD m ME BY MY GRANDMOTHER AND OTHERS WHO HAVE LIVED IN THE VALLEY �This page intentionally left blank �CONTENTS AND ALL THE PRINCES ARE GONE/1 CHARLIE WALKS THE NIGHT/2 SARAH'S QUILTS/3 HAWK AND JAYS/4 DON'T SEND ME OFF LIKE SOME THREE,LEGGED DOG/5 PINK/7 AMANDA CLIMBS CEDAR RIDGE/8 LEAH'S APRON/9 LOVE SONG FOR REBECCA/10 REBECCNS PAPA/10 THE PREACHER MAN/11 REBECCNS SON/12 ENOCH PREACHES AT GUMLOG/13 REQUIEM FOR A MATRIARCH/14 EUNICE CLAIMS THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM/IS MORNINGS, SHEBA COMBS HER HAIR/16 ENOCH'S SERMONS/17 A DAY OF CLOUDS AND THICK DARKNESS/17 0 ABSALOM, MY SON, MY SON/18 THE FOUNTAIN IN THE WAY 1D SHUR/19 NO BALM IN GILEAD/20 NOW THE LORD HAD PREPARED A GREAT FISH/21 ISAIAH TREED/22 MIRACLE AT RAVEN GAP/23 THE MIDWIFE/24 NOVEMBER WIND/25 FOOI.:S GOLD/26 JACOB'S CAUSE/27 WARTS FOR PARALEE/28 ELLIE'S NEIGHBORS/29 MARY'S APPLES/29 NAOMI'S NERVE/30 AN AWFUL SORRY MAN/31 CHARLIE LEECH'S WIVES/32 THE BRAGGART/33 A THREAT OF BLACK EYES/34 LIZNS MONDAY/35 �This page intentionally left blank �AND ALL THE PRINCES ARE GONE She sits beside the oak fire, Lilah, pale, intent on nothing here where mountains circle Brasstown tight as walls around a medieval castle formed. She holds the book, its cover gone, its pages tissue thin with fingering. She peers through smoke to where the men, their coats brocaded, satin tight around their thighs, bow to ladies in a banquet hall. Soft music sounds around the spitting of the logs that Samuel dragged from Double Knob behind his lumbering ox, a mild and placid beast who chews his hay as though in contemplation of the history of his kind. She sees the ox, a Yule log chained behind, crossing the drawbridge to a castle court, and servants hanging holly boughs to grace stone walls, and torches shadowing a feast. Her cabin is not here, nor Samuel's supper simmering on the hook above the fire. Dark comes, and Lilah watches dancing figures spin, a pleasant dream to warm this wilderness where life is hard, and all the princes are gone. 1 �CHARLIE WALKS THE NIGHT Charlie stalks the night, dark as the painter silent on the ridge. His bare feet touched cold leaves with no feeling; his eyes reach only for the phantoms of his dream. Night after night, he travels paths never seen by Brasstown's sun. When he was eight, his mama put the key down deep inside a pail, sure that water's touch would wake him gently, send him stumbling back to bed. But, Charlie took the bucket, poured the water out, and walked an extra mile. Then Mama tied a string around his toe, the other end to hers, so she could wake and keep her boy inside. She felt a little silly when he turned sixteen, big boy like that, and him all tied to Mama's toe. Now, Mama's gone, and Charlie's free to walk. He never knows just where he's been, up Cedar Ridge, or down by Big Bald Creek where pools run dark with sleeping trout-no sign to mark his way except the muddy footprints on the rough pine porch, and sometimes, scraps of Oak leaves stuck on quilts that Mama made. 2 �SARAH'S QUILTS She stands, barefoot, in the creek, homespun dress, rich brown with walnut dye, tucked up almost to knees that feel the rush, the chilling press of Corn Creek's water even in the heat of August. Now her sons are far away: one running over hills his footsteps beat on forest trails she never saw. Laurel thickets tear his clothes, snatch hands that picked up stones to end the quarrel once too often, left his brother dead, buried beneath the oak that tops the rise just steps behind the cabin. She sees his head rest on patchwork squares she sewed; a quilt she made to warm his bed serves as a shroud to line his grave. His brother's fear, his guilt have made him run without a wrap to warm him in the cold of mountain nights, no bright~ patched "Star of Bethlehem" to ward off harm lurking behind great pines. She prays for brothers as she picks up stones, piles them along the bank. One stone, now clean of blood, joins others she will use to lay around a space, an outline like the rope~strung attic bed where he can sleep, her quilt across his face. 3 �HAWK AND JAYS By Crooked Creek, Amanda watches as six jays engage a sparrow hawk; their wings feinting blue brush near his brown,barred tail fanned wide with rage furious as his cry. He perches wary on an oak limb, dares further move as jays debate deep in a chinquapin. They attack again, again in twos and threes until the hawk, tiring of the game, abandons territory he has claimed as his. Amanda turns from oak leaves still quivering after war, resumes her gathering of sticks to feed the fire burning low on her hearth. Above, the hawk swoops high across the valley, dives, screaming toward her frightened chicks. Amanda drops the wood, flaps her homespun apron: "You wicked bird, get away from here! Hush, hush, my biddies. Don't you be afraid!" 4 �DON'T SEND ME OFF LIKE SOME THREE,LEGGED DOG In memory of Prof. Adams, who told me tales John Lowe has gone to join his other leg, the right one Neighbor Sam cut off with knife and saw that February day when winds perverse and raw as March whipped oak limbs sideways, off from true, crushed nerve and bone beyond repair. "Don't throw it out!" John groaned. "Don't let me go to meet my Maker less than whole. Don't send me off to hop along the golded streets of Heaven like some three,legged dog:' So Sam devised a coffin smaller than a child's; of oak he sawed it, sealed it tight. And, while his stump was healing, John whittled angels, tall and fair, with flowing robes, since who knows anyhow if angels have legs under all that heavenly garb. The decorated coffin graced the corner of his room for forty years while John made do with wooden legs, another carved when one grew splintery with plowing rocky mountain cornfields, tending pigs. And when the neighbors called, or strangers rode through Brasstown, John would show his coffin, tell about the fateful day he lost his leg. He'd tap the lid, smooth angel's hair, 5 �and muse how Peter's holy touch would put his parts together once he got there, send him off down shining streets to meet God man-to-man, as any should. This day, as it was told, they buried all of John, coffin within coffin, laid him down to rest among the oaks that shade the rising slopes of Double Knob. The preacher, come on horseback over Unicoi, prayed long and loud so all could hear, and Peter surely know what he must do when John and all his legs comes knocking, knocking at the golden door. 6 �PINK Her mama called her "Pink" when she was born, to match a tiny flower pressed in Exodusfrom Charlestown gardens, its like not found among the blossoms wild in Brasstown soil. She called the two boys "Flotsam" and "Jetsam;' having heard such words ring somewhere with all the strength of heroes: Samson, Saulthough never could she find them in The Book no matter if she searched to Revelation's end. The last child Mama named "Rebecca to be sure, make up for giving wrong names to the boysand those now stuck too tight to budge. Then Mama died, not knowing just how right she'd called her boys, hell-bent to leave the plow and hoe for parts out West where gold grew common as the stones they cursed in winding valley rows. In time, their faces faded as Pink brushed Rebecca's long red hair, the color of her own. She washed and cooked, up on a wooden stool that Papa made so she could reach the tubs and stove. She stitched the gown for Rebecca's wedding day, embroidered it with pinks and ragged robins around the neck and sleeves. In other springs, she knitted caps for babies never hers. She did for Papa till his days were through and kept the cabin neat as Mama ever could. Alone, she withered slowly, frail and dry as petals caught and pressed by Exodus. 7 �AMANDA CLIMBS CEDAR RIDGE The deepest snow in memory clutches at my boots. I have trudged down to the barn. Sally lows to be milked and the old hens cluck "cracked corn" no matter what the day brings. With each step, I sink, pull up, spend my little strength. My breath comes harder the closer to my house I come. Ahead of me, the snow is smooth with no tracks but mine splayed out like bears had walked behind me down my daily path. At the edge of the orchard, a hound has padded his circle around my tree, a juniper planted after one Christmas. A forgotten strand of tinsel catches sun, reminds me of days when snow fell only to be tossed in balls, and stirred in pans of sweetened cream. 8 �LEAH'S APRON Her eastern window fogs with April frost, obscures the cabin high across the valley where Nathan lives alone, no smoke rising yet, no tall man in the barnlot tending pigs. Leah rubs the pane with her apron's calico, blinks back as the sun rises over Kirby Cove lighting his roof and yard, remembers springs when Nathan came to call, a bunch of early violets in his clumsy hand, a ring he fashioned out of horseshoe nails, amber honey from his hillside hives-small gifts made large with halting words, a sober hand raised just as he turned to leave. But never could he say the right words though she waited, patient, while five springs of violets faded. She turns to face the room, folding her apron thick to lift brown hoecake from the fire's edge. Leah smooths her apron with long strokes, breaks bread, and sits down by the window to begin another day. 9 �LOVE SONG FOR REBECCA I. REBECCRS PAPA "Rebecca, bring The Book and read to me a while. Your mama always did till you were born, and she was gone:' The tall man, petulant beside the fire, looks back to watch her step down from the box he built to raise a child so she could reach the supper dishes in the pan. She dries small hands on a bleached sack, and, carrying the leather-covered book, comes close to sit just by his knee. "Read Abraham again, read how his seed will fill the land:' She follows words across thin pages with one finger as he strokes her hair, dark like his own. Night closes in the cabin, builds a quiet wall around the two beside the dying fire. "Rebecca, take my shoes off, your mama always did:' She kneels, obedient to his voice, unlaces heavy thongs and warms his feet between her hands. "I love you, Papa, don't be sad?' He takes her in his lap. Unbuttoning the calico around her throat, he strokes soft flesh, rocking as the fire flickers out. 10 �II. THE PREACHER MAN When Papa died one spring, still calling Mama's name, Rebecca put The Book up on the highest shelf. No one to read to now, she thought, no one to rock me by the fire at night. Her thirtieth year it was, and she had never been outside the valley's walls, had never been toward Unicoi, or west to cross through Brasstown Gap. Her papa died still sad because his name would have no son to carry it. She buried him by Gumlog Creek, as near to Mama as she dared, and drew his chair close by the fire to rock away the chilly nights just faintly tinged by now with violets opening by the creek. She rocked through days when sourwood enticed the bees, and till the fingered leaves of sassafras turned scarlet in the fall. Then through the yellow poplar woods, a preacher man from Carolina way came riding in his buggy, bringing sermons forged on rocky trails in mountain nights when painters cried like women in travail, and men could know that mortal sins were real as rocks and sky "Rebecca, bring The Book and read to me a while;' he said. He echoed Papa's face and form, his dark beard flecked with snow like that which fell outside the cabin walls. He used her body sparingly, replenishing the earth as God has said, and never knew how much she missed her Papa rocking by the fire, unbuttoning the calico that warmed her waiting throat. 11 �III. REBECCA'S SON She births her son toward morning, lies there limp, hears their whispered voices, wonders why they do not bring him closer, let her see. "Now, you just rest, Rebecca, sleep a while and get your strength back, sleep:' She closes heavy eyes, still almost hearing voices ...we daren't let her know just yet ... break her heart ...wonder what she done to get so marked a boy. She sleeps, and wakening hears morning sound, the clatter of the skillet, the murmuring of coffee boiling in the pot. The midwife Mary Nash, from up in Kirby Cove, sits rocking by the fire, a swaddled bundle quiet in her arms. Rebecca raises up: "Mary, bring my child, and let me see his face:' Reluctant, Mary walks across the room and lays him in the crook Rebecca makes. Morning sun breaking through the window touches the birthmark shiny and red. "Jehovah God, what have I done that you should punish me? The sins are visited upon the young, The Book says:' She lies back, bares her breast, guides it toward the purple mouth, and with one finger traces sin made visible, on Enoch's cheek for him to wear for life. 12 �IV. ENOCH PREACHES AT GUMLOG "Jehovah God, convict these miserable sinners, bring them to their knees!' Mid~morning sun strikes new fire from his birthmark swollen as blue veins that pulse distended, fierce around his eyes. "Conceived in mortal sin, we all are filled with wickedness, dependent on Your Mercy, damned without Your Grace. Fall down, you sinners, put your faces on the ground!' He raises clinched fists, brings them down to pound upon the rough~hewn pulpit he has carved to finish off the log church crouching in the laurel thicket close by Gumlog Creek. "Jehovah God, forgive this miserable man who bears upon his face the mark of Cain, the sin of Abram's seed:' He falls upon his knees, sinks clutching fingers deep within the earthern floor, and weeps. Around him, empty benches line up square in quiet wooded rows. 13 �REQUIEM FOR A MATRIARCH When Laura Lenora Queen Victoria Stanfield Brown had fried the last pone of cornbread on the black woodstove, her husband and twelve children buried her among the laurels head~ high by Gumlog Creek, put no REQUIESCAT IN PACE on her stone. Old Lunsford, tired of carving, put down his chisel and declared: "I do reckon that name's enough. Ever soul in the county know'd she were a good woman and sore in need of the rest:' 14 �EUNICE CLAIMS THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM "It's mine! How dared you give our mother's finest quilt to Cousin Ruth?" She fumes around the room, her fingers touching, clutching at the piles of many-colored quilts, the crocheted pieces Mama made those years when age had slowed her feet, and sat 'most too quiet by the fire. "The Star of Bethlehem was mine. She told me so right in this very room?' Her sister, quieter still than Mama ever was, goes on about her business, clearing cupboard shelves, folding Mama's dresses in a pile. "Now, don't you dare to give away another thing! Just think how Mama'd feel, your tossing out her very life like it was trash to burn, and her not cold yet in her grave. Not one scrap, mind you. Do you her me, Sister? Not one scrap!" She lifts each folded quilt and calls its name: Step-Around-TheMountain, Double Wedding Ring, Flower Garden, Sailor's Bow-Tie. "See these, I mind the very day she finished every one and laid it on the bed to show. And all that time, that sneaky Ruth was casting eyes, just coveting the last stitch Mama did. I knew it, and to think just when my back was turned, you'd go and give away my quilt. Well, you just leave this room, and don't come back again! I'll move my things in here, and see you don't throw out our Mother's life. You can sleep alone, you hear, and don't ever speak to me again!" 15 �MORNINGS, SHEBA COMBS HER HAIR She watches from the open door, the man long,legged, tall and straight, his hair aflame like foxes make as they run through the broom sedge patch behind her house. This neighbor passes by each day to climb the slope of Cedar Ridge, cut logs to build a barn near where the trail that crosses Unicoi turns west through Brasstown Gap. She watches, thinking how her own man, gone these three years, never had that loose,limbed stride, that fire atop his head. Older than she, he never made her heart run wild and fly across the valley free as red,tailed hawks rise high on currents of cold morning air. She watches, planning how one day she'll walk out, ask him how his wife does, how his son. She'll wait beside the big oak, ask him in to warm his hands before her hearth, to notice how her dark hair falls as smooth as water in Corn Creek caresses stones. How she will warm cold fingers in his hair, and face eternal burning if she must. 16 �ENOCH'S SERMONS I. A DAY OF CLOUDS AND THICK DARKNESS Enoch rises, opens up The Book. Aaron drops his eyes, turns them on his boots, not seeing worn leather toes but Sheba's face, her dark head bent. She sits across the church where he can see the curve of cheek he's cupped with tender hands, the shoulders soft and warm, now masked in Sunday calico. Beside him, Joel stirs and yawns, his bright head drooping now against his father's side. Enoch reads, his voice a burning pain in Aaron's mind: abomination ...thy neighbor's wife ...defile... shalt not ... The words, the words ... abomination ... neighbor's wife. He'd never meant to go inside, but coming down each night from Cedar Ridge, he'd seen her standing in the open door, smelled fragrant hickory burning on her hearth. That day, November chilled the bright still air in Brasstown. And he was cold. Aaron glances toward his wife, her lips set Sunday~tight, her eyes on Enoch's purple mouth. What if her sharp eyes looked through Sheba's calico, her flesh? They'd see his seed, insidious, growing wild as pigweed taints the dark soil of his garden rows. They'd all see soon, these neighbors, friends. Aaron feels the boy, breathing softly now in sleep. He sees his wife's skirt move to touch his leather toes. Jehovah God, he thinks, what will I do? But God, Oh God! I was so cold! 17 �II. 0 ABSALOM, MY SON, MY SON What did that David know? Did he once carry Absalom inside his belly, feel his warm mouth urging milk from full breasts swollen in hard ropes of sustenance and pain? Watch him live a week, a month, then cease to breathe no matter what he did? Amanda draws her grey shawl tight across dry breasts, flabby these many childless years. Her twisting fingers count a row of tiny graves grown over with laurel now by Gumlog Creek. What does that Enoch know? Him like a eunuch with his purple face no woman would dare touch for fear of bearing sons marked like him. "But the king covered his face and the king cried out with a loud voice.. !' Enoch reads The Book again, tells of Joab chiding David for his grief. Amanda stirs, glances sideways at the man whose seed was weak, that seed so ripe and quickening until exposed to light. What does that man know, him with his "Never you mind, Amanda. God just didn't mean our sons to live and have to face this wicked world:' She feels her dry breasts fill again, watches as milk trickles down her wrinkled flesh like tears. 18 �Ill. THE FOUNTAIN IN THE WAY 10 SHUR Abigail sees through log walls, across the barrier tall mountains make, to where the sea laps on earth so warm she feels it in her fingertips pressed against her thighs. Fearful in this alien land of deep thickets, painters prowling, snow, she is as Hagar thrust into a trackless wilderness. But here, by Gumlog Creek, no angel of the Lord has found her, ministered to her need. How many times has she heard Enoch promise help from this Jehovah: a cloud by day, a pillar of fire in deep darkness, an angel hand. And nothing came to Abigail. If this Jehovah is so great, how has He not seen Enoch's face, laid on His hands to heal that purple lying mouth, no more effective than the lying prayers she nightly prays to One who never hears. 19 �IV. NO BALM IN GILEAD The church walls darken; Enoch's face fades as though April sun had gone behind a cloud or dropped between the peaks of Raven Cliffs. Anna blinks her eyes, sees only mist as pain, insistent in her side, drowns out Enoch's voice: "Why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?" Elizabeth stirs, touches her mother's hand: "You alright, Mama?" Anna nods, afraid to trust speech, reveal her fear now deeper than death: how to plant corn and peas to feed herself, Elizabeth, when weakness comes in waves, waves hard and round in her side as oak roots washed to view by spring rain's fall. How to leave Elizabeth alone, this child who cannot learn beyond the simplest thing. The sound of Enoch's voice returns: "Is there no balm in Gilead, is there no physician here?" Anna closes her eyes, bows in prayer. Elizabeth pats her mother's hand: "Open your eyes, Mama. Mama, I can't see your eyes!" 20 �V. NOW THE LORD HAD PREPARED A GREAT FISH And Enoch reads of Jonah, disobedient to the Lord, swallowed by the great fish. He tells of Nineveh, and forty days to punishment. "Repent, repent of sin!" His voice is high and thin. "Let every man be covered with sackcloth.'' The congregation stirs, uneasy, feels the weight of wrongs brought here to holy ground disguised in piety and Sunday garb. "Come to the Lord, repent your wickedness!" One, two, they come, then more. They cling around the mourner's bench, curve against the oaken rail as scales overlap on trout swimming deep pools in Gumlog Creek. They cling, they sway in ecstasy of guilt. A rumble groans beneath the logs, a grinding of stones stacked three deep beneath a corner. Slowly, the church leans, slowly west it slides. ''A sign, a sign! Oh God, convict us of our sins! Old Jonah knew, he knew! Jehovah spit us from the belly of the fish that we may save our souls, go preach the word in Nineveh! Repent!" The congregation lies in heaps against the western wall, afraid to move lest He should bring the mountain down as well. "Crawl, my brethren, crawl to God!" Enoch leads the way across the tilting floor until the church rocks back. "Amiracle, my brethren, let us sing a verse "Just As I Am;' and pray for fish to swallow us whene're we stray again!" 21 �VI. ISAIAH TREED "... and all liars, shall have their part in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone!' Enoch pounds his text into the far corners of the churchthe back corner where Ike tugs the collar of his shirt, feels the lie around his neck like a burning rope soaked in coal oil. The stink of brimstone fills his throat; his cheeks know Enoch's eyes, cold fire accusing, commanding that he rise, come forward, and repent. The mourner's bench looms large, fills the church from front to back, pushes Ike through the door and, running, down the path to Gumlog Creek. There the big oak, full with July, beckonsand he climbs, up, up until the limbs grow small, and he can wrap his arms around the trunk, press his burning face against the scratchy bark. He hears a rustling from the creek below, a low chant moaning, rising, ever rising: "Come, Isaiah, come to God. Repent your sins. Repent!" The rough bark moves beneath his skin; leaves flicker toward his head like flames. 22 �MIRACLE AT RAVEN GAP "If I could have a mess of greens just once before I die:' Old Mary Dean lies pale and thin, her kinfolk standing by. "I've got a patch of turnips, Min, don't guess they'll hurt her none. I'll fry a pone of cornbread too, be back here when the sun sets down in Raven Gap:' So Nell went home and fixed a plate for Mary Dean's last dying wishand with a will she ate. Next morning, Nell thought ghosts could walk. She started, gave her head a scratch when out her window saw at dawn Old Mary digging in her turnip patch. 23 �THE MIDWIFE No question who had fathered this one. Mary Nash rocks back on aching knees, continues tidying up the job she's done of catching Lena Mathis' son. A long night this, and more than ample time to hear the name thrust out between clenched teeth, a name that Mary knows too well from twenty years of sleeping in his bed. My Cal, she thinks, and I have given him no son but this I claim with no part but my hands, my skill in birthing other women's sons. She ties the dark cord, cuts it neat, and binds the little belly tight. Poor mite, he'll have no name but Lena Mathis' son, the one who looks so much like Calvin Nash, they'll say. She lays him, swaddled now, beside his mother's arm, and, turning, reaches shaking hands for coffee simmering in the black pot on the hearth. 24 �NOVEMBER WIND An early winter cold hums around Granny Knob, sets the Cabin hissing like a woman barely holding her peace. Her tongue flicks edges of a mouth dry, set white above the lip. Molly turns her back, drags the dishrag hard across a table clean already. Water roils in the pan, splashes beside tears on the scrubbed~pine floor. She will not speak; it is not permitted, but when she takes her bed, her back will offer him silence echoing the clatter of polished pans in a too~clean room. 25 �FOO~S GOLD Salathiel John never looks on a stranger but he tilts his black hat, potential danger to that man's gold if he cuts the cards from Salathiel's hand, engages him in stud or draw. Salathiel John never left Brasstown Valley but once, for nearby Aurariawhere wealth, so they said, was there for the digging up any draw. He found fool's gold and a deck of cards, grew a fulsome beard, bought a soft black hat, learned that cutting the cards was an easier row than digging for gold, or in Brasstown for corn. Now he sits by the oak where the trail from Auraria turns west toward the mountain, sits fanning his cards in a nonchalant way. He tips his black hat, speaks to any man passing in the softest of tones. He keeps his gold in a brown leather pouch he made from the hide of a buck he found up a draw in Auraria, up the draw in Auraria where he learned to play stud. 26 �JACOB'S CAUSE War done, feet horned from trails long winding down through Nantahala's Gorge to Double Knob and home, Jacob rocks as he will rock for thirty years and more. No plowing now, he's done his share in battles fought from First Bull Run to White Oak Swamp with Stonewall Jackson and his mighty troop. When neighbors pass along the path that winds below the Knob and down along Corn Creek, he hails: "Neighbor, come and set a spell. Have I told you how we whupped them damned blue~bellies good and captured what we didn't downright kill? Old Stonewall said we wuz the best he ever saw, us boys from out these hills with eyes so sharp as ever dropped a squirrel from pine or oak or stopped a horse thief in his tracks:' Antietam, Jacob's red~bone hound lies, yawning, by his side. His paws run rabbits in his sleep while Jacob rocks, slow, then faster, faster as the battle rages on. Old Stonewall take Manassas Junction once again. 27 �WARTS FOR PARALEE "Paralee's a witch, Mae. She'll conjure off your warts. We'll hide beside the lower road:' Two little girls peer down the rutted track where mountains turn to valley fields, look west to see the woman, old and humped, Her eyes are light, strange light that hands, trembling now but willing to by any touch that might take horny leaning on her cane. burns Mae's be warmed lumps away. Eyes burn through laurel clumps where two girls hide; eyes swing away. She limps on down the track toward Lee's where she will knock three times, and ask a bed tonight. 28 �ELLIE'S NEIGHBORS I. MARY'S APPLES That rag~tag and bob~tail over at the other side of the valley can't keep outta grief. That Mary's done it this time, gone and broke her leg chasing after one of Sudie's younguns. Serves her right, old witch, always yelling when they come by her house. Like she was God of Brasstown. Don't want nothin' or nobody touching what's hers. She acts like every stick she owns is the Ark of the Covenant-and she'll be struck dead one day for blasphemy, she will. Her apples, indeed! Like God made Eden just for her, and Sudie's pore younguns weren't to come near it. Just because she come here first, she thinks that every spoonful of earth from Double Knob to Raven Cliffs was made for her benefit! You'd think that line from the thunderstruck oak to Corn Creek was drawed by Moses with a golden stick to keep the rest of us from crossing to the upper gap. Why, just the other day, I seen her beating Lymon Shockley's pig because he sniffed her steps and nosed around her tree. And then chewed Lymon out-for owning a pig! I swear, I just can't get nothin' done for watching what she does! 29 �II. NAOMI'S NERVE Naomi Davis died this morning, did ya hear? Now, there was a woman with nerve! Some past ninety she was, and it forty year since she fought the wolves all night. I remember hearing how she throwed rocks to keep 'em off her calves over by Lick Log Creek. Ain't been no wolves around here in many a year, but I heard tell of times when they run in packs all through these hillsstole stock and younguns too, if'n they was left alone too long. Usta be powerful bad over to Lick Log, drawed by all that Davis stock, I rightly suspicion. And no man on the place the night Naomi fought! Them Davis men was bad to wanderallus flitting off over the Gap for some cause or nother, they was. Naomi never said a word, though; all them Davises has some pride to burn, would of let them wolves tear their throat afore they'd speak any word to let the family down. I don't doubt none they'll bury Naomi proud. 30 �III. AN AWFUL SORRY MAN That Homer's mean, Amanda, mean as sin! Allus tell, anybody with squinchey little eyes can't be nothing else. Come into the store t'other day, seen Lem Sykes buying some sugar, knocked the poke out'n his hand and taken his place at the counter. Just as ornery as an upland rattler in a dry spell, I swear! His pore mama died when he was no more'n three, left them four boys to raise theyselves. Run wild, that passel of younguns did, run wild! Growed up big and mean-half the folks round Wolf Pen Gap can testify to that. And that pore wife of his'n, don't know why she up and wedded such a sorry man. Many's the day I seen her with both eyes blackened and she ain't hardly got no teeth left. Looks like she would of taken a stick of stovewood and frailed the daylights outta him! He ain't worth the powder and shot to kill him, may I drop dead if 'n I lie! 31 �IV. CHARLIE LEECH'S WIVES Sudie, look at that string of younguns coming into preaching, tripping behind that Charlie like a covey of quail skittering acrosst the pasture. I swear, that man's got a finger in more than one pie! Niece, indeed! She don't look like no Leech I ever saw, nor none of his mother's kin neither. When she come here to help out Lena, and her down with low blood, I had my suspicions then. Now, for sure, there's three more younguns since she came, and Lena allus ailing. I ain't seen her up and about these four years past, but that Serena's been to preaching twicet and more with a new broodjust like her, squinchey eyes and scrawny hair. I heard too that Charlie killed some sixteen hogs this winter past, and don't you tell me Lena's young needs any ways that kinda meat! I wandered over towards Turkey Buzzard Gap just t'other day, seen Serena pranching around in the back lot like she owned the place. Counted six yard younguns too. I swear, Sudie, that's too many for one woman, and her been down this long with that low blood! 32 �V. THE BRAGGART Look at that Abe Carpenter go swaggering by, I swear, that's the braggingest man I've seed! Luke heard him running off last week as to how he'd killed over a hundred bucks in his life, and none of them with less'n seven points, too. I bet if 'n he was Samson, he'd of slew twicet as many of them Philistines as that Samson done, or more'n twicet, to hear him telling it! Ain't nobody in this valley gonna believe him and his tale about how he fought The War. Why, he couldn't even of been borned when them old English come and tried to make us some of their'n. Must of been some yarn his grandaddy told-though, if 'n that old man fought anything fiercer'n a rocking chair, I'd eat my bonnet! All "say-so" and no "do-so" them Carpenters, each and ever one of them. And Abe the worst, for sure! Hear him tell it, he's been clean to that Pacific Ocean and back, killing Indians all the way, scalp'n them too, though if 'n them ain't coon pelts he's got hanging on his wall, I'll salt and pepper my best Sunday apron, and eat it ever living scrap! 33 �VI. A THREAT OF BLACK EYES I seen him, Sudie, seen that pore Lee boy over to Aunt Liddie's! Went and hanged hisself, he did, on one of them big oaks out behind her barn. They say he was desperate over that snippy Jenkins gal over by Lick Log, been casting sheep's eyes at him these two years past, she has. I seen her at preachingtaking in ever thing in pants, them as are free and them tied as well. Ain't no better'n she should of been, that gal! Can't be no more'n sixteen neither, flirting round ever since she was less'n ten. Them black eyes sneaking out'n the ruffles on her bonnet like a pair of chickadees a,courtin' in a budding sycamore. I swear, ain't no woman's man safe when such as that is free to run loose in this valley! 34 �LIZNS MONDAY She has left her tubs and boiling sheets, fled north across the woodlot, heard no grumble from the pigs as she passed, the chicken shed where eggs wait to be gathered, felt no pain as December's harsh wind dried lye soap on her arms, reddened hands held stiff by her sides, palms forward as to catch the gusts that sweep the slopes of Double Knob. Inside the cabin: Ethan's shirt to patch, the fire to mend, small Issac sleeping in his crib, soon to wake for nursing. These and other chores are in her keeping, but she hurries up the mountainside as on an April day to search for mint and cress, to find first violets that hide in white and purple patches by Corn Creek. The ridge is steep and rocky, sharp with briars. Raked inside by gales howling bleak as northern winds around the cabin whine, she does not feel the laurel tug her dress, the briars pricking dark red beads that shine on bare arms. All winter afternoon she climbs until she gains the highest rocks, the knobs where one can look out, trace the spines of distant mountains, scan the valley floorblack dots for shed and cabin, smoke only wisps blown by the wind. Lisa sees no more: not broken stones underfoot, not heavy sky 35 �holding snow. She sits on Double Knob, back against the ledge, and watches night come by to close the valley, wipe her clearing out as though it has never been. Snow clouds roil around Liza's head, wrap cold arms about bent shoulders, fill her aproned lap, open hands, Below, the wash-fire has burned down to embers; Ethan long begun the search across his lands. 36 �This page intentionally left blank �about the author Bettie Sellers earned a B.A. from LaGrange College and an M.A. from the University of Georgia, both in English. She accepted a position at Young Harris College in 1966 where she remained until she retired in 1997. Sellers published several works of poetry including Wild Ginger. She was named author of the year by the Dixie Council of Authors and Journalists in 1979. Sellers died on May 17, 2013, at the age of 87 in Hayesville, NC. �APPALACHIAN CONSORTIUM PRESS Boone, North Carolina The Appalachian Consortium Press is a division of the Appalachian Consortium Incorporated, specializing in the publication of carefully produced books of particular interest to Southern Appalachia. The Press is controlled by the Publications Committee and the Board of Directors, the members of which are appointed by the Chief Administrative Officers of the member institutions and agencies of the corporation. Appalachian S tate University East Tennessee State University APPALACHIAN W este rn Carolina University Western N . C. Historical A ssoc. Great Smoky Mountains Natural History Association � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Subject The topic of the resource Appalachian Region, Southern--Poetry Mountain life--Poetry Women--Poetry Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appalachian Consortium Press Publications Description An account of the resource This collection contains digitized monographs and collections from the Appalachian Consortium Press. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Appalachian Consortium Press Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Appalachian Consortium Press Date Issued Date of formal issuance (e.g., publication) of the resource. June 1, 2017 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource <a title="Digital Scholarship and Initiatives" href="http://library.appstate.edu/services/digital-scholarship-and-initiatives" target="_blank">Digital Scholarship and Initiatives</a> Publication Digital Publisher Digital Republication Appalachian State University Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Liza's Monday and Other Poems Description An account of the resource <span>Published in 1986, Bettie Sellers's book of poems speaks for ordinary women whose lives have been confronted with unfortunate circumstances. Writing in a narrative and lyrical style, Sellers brings life to new stories and songs based on the downtrodden women she has encountered.<br /></span><br /><a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=1OiqVmd3VKxBDx3sAqqpuP8L-x0P4PAeW" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Download EPub<br /><br /></a><a title="UNC Press Link" href="https://www.uncpress.org/book/9781469636528/lizas-monday-and-other-poems" target="_blank" rel="noopener">UNC Press Print on Demand</a> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Sellers, Bettie Language A language of the resource English Subject The topic of the resource Appalachian Region, Southern--Poetry Mountain life--Poetry Women--Poetry Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Appalachian Consortium Press Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1986 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Poetry E-books Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed" target="_blank" rel="noopener">https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed</a> Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. https://www.geonames.org/12212302/appalachia.html Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a title="UA 76 Appalachian Consortium records" href="https://appstate-speccoll.lyrasistechnology.org/repositories/2/resources/9" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"> UA 76 Appalachian Consortium records </a> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. <a title="Appalachian Consortium Press Publications" href="https://omeka.library.appstate.edu/collections/show/82" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Appalachian Consortium Press Publications</a> Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1980s Appalachian folklore Poems storytelling https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/15f7bbd6555970c47e1e8411aa4c5e0f.pdf 0f3617028c726c1f8c007f110b8c0e51 PDF Text Text ��This page intentionally left blank �The Good Life Almanac BEING THE CHOICEST MORSELS WISDOM FOR READERS INTERESTED LIVING, WRITTEN WITH RATHER BY TIES SOME TO THAN IN EXISTING. COUNTRY NATURE, OF MAN, FOLK AND GOD'S OWN WORLD . . . APPALACHIAN CONSORTIUM PRESS BOONE, NORTH CAROLINA 28607 �The Appalachian Consortium was a non-profit educational organization composed of institutions and agencies located in Southern Appalachia. From 1973 to 2004, its members published pioneering works in Appalachian studies documenting the history and cultural heritage of the region. The Appalachian Consortium Press was the first publisher devoted solely to the region and many of the works it published remain seminal in the field to this day. With funding from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and the National Endowment for the Humanities through the Humanities Open Book Program, Appalachian State University has published new paperback and open access digital editions of works from the Appalachian Consortium Press. www.collections.library.appstate.edu/appconsortiumbooks This work is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND license. To view a copy of the license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses. Original copyright © 1975 by the Appalachian Consortium Press. ISBN (pbk.: alk. Paper): 978-1-4696-3840-9 ISBN (ebook): 978-1-4696-3842-3 Distributed by the University of North Carolina Press www.uncpress.org �EDITOR Ruth Smalley ASSISTANT EDITOR Margaret Griess THE COMMITTEE Lucy Bell Jap Hardin Betty McDowell Corinne Palko Wilma Rau COVER PHOTO Al Palko TEXT ART Ann Hall, Ruth Prince . . . AND G A T H E R E D UP IN SOLWAY, TENNESSEE, A COMMUNITY OF APPALACHIANS AND FURRINERS, IMMIGRANTS AND NATIVES, WHITES AND BLACKS, FARMERS AND SCIENTISTS-IN SHORT, PEOPLE MUCH LIKE Y O U �THE G O LIFE ALMANAC O D If we suggest a solution to a problem we guarantee it works—at least for us—because we've tried it. This is an almanac of practical hints and common sense. Once in awhile we'll pass on some folk lore, but we'll label it and tell you if we haven't proven it ourselves. A n easy-to-grow southern crop is okra. We eat it fried or stewed. But have you tried PICKLED OKRA Garlic (1 clove for each jar) Hot pepper (1 for each jar) Okra, young, tender pods Dill seed (1 tsp. for each jar) Make yourself an honest man and then you may be sure that there is one rascal less i n the world. . . . . Thomas Carlyle 1 qt. vinegar 2 cups water h cup salt x Place garlic and pepper in the bottom of clean, hot, pint jars. Butterflies count not months, but moments, and yet have time enough. Pack firmly with clean okra pods from which only part of the stem has been removed. A d d dill seed. Bring vinegar, water, and salt to a a boil. Simmer about five minutes and pour, boiling hot, over okra. Seal at once. Makes about 6 pints. The chewers among us claim that wet tobacco applied to a bee sting will prevent swelling and ease the pain. �The railway depot was the social center in Solway as it was in other communities across the land in the days before automobiles. Families came to see the train come in and the passengers get off. In the horse and buggy days, people would get up at midnight to go the 20 miles to Knoxville. Groups went together in horse-drawn hacks or wagons, shop­ ped and then returned home after dark the next evening. After the trains started, a train called the "short dog" left Solway at 10 a.m. and returned at 5 p.m., a miraculous time saver! Edibles from the flower garden in­ clude violets, whose blossoms and tender leaves are rich in vitamin C and look beautiful in a green salad, or day lilies (dip buds or just—faded blossoms in fritter batter and fry). And have you tried rose-petal jelly? Lord, give me this day my daily opinion, and forgive me the one I had yesterday. According to a county agent in his report in 1914, farmers here never raised many sheep because of the roving bands of dogs, who considered mutton a tasty dish. When your best days are yester, the rest are twice as dear. A new twist on the "shell game" is the use of eggshells as seed starters. Remove the top 1/3 of eggshells and save them in the cartons. Fill with a mixture of soil and vermiculite, plant seeds and dampen the soil. Cover with plastic till germinated and thin to one seedling per shell. Let this plant grow until it has two true leaves before transplanting in the garden. Then crush the bottom of the shell and plant, shell and all. The shell even adds a little calcium to fertilize your soil. �The story of the first public hanging in our area is more suspenseful than many fiction tales. Loness Guinn's great-grandparents, in Union County, were murdered while their grandson was visiting. He ran out the back' door, thus escaping the robbers whom he recognized. They lived i n this area and the home place was closely watch­ ed by the law. However, they man­ aged to come back and were hiding in the cistern on a platform part way down. The family fed them by drop­ ping a water bucket full of food down. Who would consider that sus­ picious? A l l was at a standstill until a reward of $25 was offered. This was too much for the father of one of the rob­ bers. Perhaps he considered his son was no good, anyhow. A t least he wasn't worth $25. So justice had its day and the hanging was a public event, presumably nudging many a young rascal toward the straight and narrow. One of the most useful, and widely available wild food plants is the com­ mon cattail. The green bloom spikes and new shoots can be eaten raw, in salads, or as a cooked vegetable. The yellow pollen can be added to flour. The roots may be used as a vegetable or dried and ground for flour for pan­ cakes, etc. The stems can be sliced lengthwise and used for making baskets. Rub salt on your moistened hands to erase onion or garlic odor. Blackberry juice, scraped raw apple, or liquid jello are very effective for diarrhea—and especially tasty to babies. The trouble with our times is that the future is not what it used to be. Peace is not needing to know what will happen next. �WHAT IS P O K E ? A poke can be a jab, or a paper bag, or a versatile, plentiful food. Though many people refer to it as pokeweed, we call it poke sallat or salad. Let us tell you about this marvel. There's fried poke: Gather and wash young poke shoots. Peel and chop the stems. Dip pieces in beat­ en egg batter and fry in deep fat un­ til golden brown. BATTER 1 c. flour, 1 tsp. baking powder, V4 tsp salt. Beat together h c. milk and 2 eggs. Stir into flour mixture with a few fast strokes. x Poke for breakfast: Stir-fry boiled poke in margarine or bacon grease, add beaten eggs and scramble all together. Or fry boiled poke with onions for another taste treat. Phytolacca Americana (Poke) First: poke greens, the peeled stems and leaves, are the edible part of the wild plant and are safe and de­ licious to eat as long as the plant is not in bloom. The berries are con­ sidered poisonous, as are roots and old stems. There's boiled poke: Gather and wash young pokeweed shoots. Boil Poke can be frozen: After the young sprouts and greens have been boiled for 10 minutes, drain them and freeze for winter use. A n d there are even poke picklesl Using tender poke shoots, remove leaves. Boil about 2 dozen poke stems about 2V4" long in salted for 20 or 30 minutes. Drain the first water until tender. Drain and place water off and add to other greens to in sterilized jars. Boil together 1 tbsp. cook, or reheat in fresh water, drain, salt, h c. water, and h c. vinegar and serve buttered or creamed. and pour over stems. Seal jars. x l �I'd enjoy the day more i f it started later. Edith Cobb House, where Solway Hardware now stands In 1899 there were six homes in the Solway area—Ferry House (an old log house later owned by the Cobb fam­ ily), J i m Cagley's, Archibald Cobb's, the Joe Caniel log house, and the Crudgington place (later Caverns of the Ridge and now called Cherokee Caverns). Other early family names were Chandler, Moneymaker, Lee, and Guinn. If you don't like the idea of spray­ ing your foodstuff with poisons, try mixing your own spray with some of the natural bug repellents such as hot pepper, garlic, onions, mint, and even molasses. R u n your formula through the blender, strain, and add a little dishwasher detergent to help it stick. Y o u are apt to come up with a win­ ner and look at the money you will save on sprays! PUZZLE * M y first is in cold, but not in hot; M y second in slow, but not in fleet; M y third is i n broad, but not in slim; M y fourth in stiff, but not in prim; My fifth is in scratch, but not in rub; M y sixth is in cane, but not in club; My seventh i n grip, but not in clinch; M y whole is said to be good at a pinch. *from St. Nicholas Magazine, 1887. Give up? �P U Z Z L E A N S W E R : Lobster Coughing like a hound dog on a cold trail. When we don't want something any We were horrified to read about the "scientists" who thought they could learn to eliminate lightning. Our country people had a saying when the thunder sounded and the lightning flashed: "The corn wagon is rolling." Instinctively they knew the value of the storm, for plant life could not exist without lightning. A n d without plants, we also would cease to be. Since 80% of the atmosphere is nit­ rogen, about 22 million tons of this essential plant food float over each square mile of earth. When lightning splits the air, nitrogen particles are made hot with temperatures up to 30,000 degrees centigrade. In this heat, nitrogen combines with oxygen to form water-soluble nitrogen oxides. These are carried down to earth, where they react with minerals to form nitrates to nourish plant life. Imagine—all that fertilizer, and all for free! more, we get shet of it. For relief from poison ivy, rub the juice from jewel weed or touch-menot flower stems on the blisters. Make your vegetable garden more attractive and help keep away some insect pests by planting a border of marigolds. The marigolds can do double duty if you add a sprinkle of petals to your summer salad or vegetable soup for flavoring. �Oss Fox, our local entrepreneur in the early 1900's, might have been a Rockefeller or a Gould had he lived in New York instead of Solway. He made the most of his opportunities here, though. It was said he would trade for anything! He owned the first grocery store in Solway. In addition, one of his projects was a park and trading post where he pro­ posed to hold an annual festival. To this end he built a dam to hold a spring-fed pool for swimming and erected three cabins nearby. Horses were traded here and he brought cattle across the river for an annual roundup. During the festivals there were contests of all kinds: sack races, dance contests with cakes for prizes, even chicken catchin' where chickens were let loose and ran squawking in every direction; if you caught one, it was yours! The swimming pool and cabins are long gone, but the memory is pre­ served by the road leading to it and still called Fox Park Road." 44 He was called "Oss" F o x , but his name was really A . H . , which, by any­ body's logic, quickly became A h ' s . " A n d his mule, with a broken ear, was named " O l d Grey Kate." 44 A weed is a plant whose virtues we have not yet discovered. HOMEMADE COTTAGE CHEESE Let one gallon of whole milk go to clabber. Put this in a large pot and heat gently until stiff curds form. Do not stir and do not let it boil. Strain the whey off and salt to your taste. Y o u can make uncooked cottage cheese by just letting the clabber drain through a cloth bag until it is almost dry, then turn into a bowl and break the curds with a fork. This must be refrigerated and eaten right away. It is good sprinkled with sour cream, sugar, and nutmeg for a different dessert. �1928. . . Some of our 4-H girls participated in a spring market in Knoxville. They sold braided rugs, food items, embroi­ dery, quilts, and baskets made of honeysuckle, some of which they enameled. To bug-proof a food container, place each leg of the safe in a dish of water. Charlie Fox was once helping Oss haul a load to the railroad when they stop­ ped to rest the horses. N o w Charlie stuttered and when he stooped to place the scotch (or perhaps you call it a block) behind the wheel he got his finger caught. Desperate for help but unable to complete his sentence, he ended up singing his predicament— because, as anybody knows, you don't stutter when you sing! I should like to be able to love my country and still love justice. . . . . Camus If you want to save your own garden seed, pick some of the best you grow and spread the seeds out to dry for about a week, then store in a box with a few mothballs or a rag with a few drops of turpentine on it. This keeps the mice and bugs out. A potassium deficiency is indicated if tomato leaves develop a scorched look and tomatoes have hard green spots. Y o u can add wood ashes (10% potassi­ um) for a quick boost. Cottonseed meal or powdered granite give longterm aid. �Loness Guinn (on the right) and his family as the bridge begins, and Bridges span time as well as space— and 45 years is not long for the life of a bridge. The builders of Solway bridge had an eye for beauty, but progress does not. The charm of its shape can no longer compensate for a two-lane roadway only 20 feet in width and so we lose our landmark, described in the plans as: �Loness Guinn (on the right) and his family as the bridge ends its span. A concrete arch bridge with 20' roadway with 3' sidewalk on right Skew: Length: 90° 772' built by Knox County in the late 1920's and dedicated in 1930 during the term of Henry H . Horton, gover­ nor of Tennessee from 1927 to 1932. It will soon be torn down and re­ placed by a new four—lane bridge now under construction. �Most communities have their secret organizations; some have the Masons, some the Yacht Club, and some the K u K l u x Klan. Solway's fraternal group was the Junior Order Lodge. Their lodge hall, however, was used rather generally for community pur­ poses. Every Saturday night movies were shown to patrons who sat on movable benches. A dance followed, sometimes to the country music of Bonnie L o u and Scotty, who later be­ came radio personalities. In more recent years, the lodge hall became the Drag-On Inn, complete with ladies of questionable repute. The history of the lodge ended in a midnight fire. Making allowances for human imper­ fections, I do feel that in America the most valuable thing in life is pos­ sible, the development of the individ­ ual and his creative powers. . . . . Einstein In the latter half of the 19th century, the farmers in what is now our Solway area bought their groceries (what few supplies they could not provide for themselves) at Henry Viles' grocery store at Coward Mill Road. Mail for these people was addressed simply "Coward's," so that going to the mail­ box was a trip, usually on foot for the youngsters of the family, of some 4 or 5 miles. The corner supermarket was still some time off, but by 1900 we were able to get groceries at Nip Guinn's, on the corner of the present Oak Ridge High­ way and Emory Road, a mere 2 miles up the road. Peanuts will grow in our area. They're an interesting plant; first they blos­ som, then the yellow blooms send out long shoots that dig into the ground to form the peanuts. To increase the peanut yield, cover the shoots with more dirt. By 1906, Nip Guinn had moved his grocery store to the middle of Solway, which was fast becoming a busy com­ munity, so thriving, in fact, that it was able to support 2 groceriesNip's and Oss Fox's (which was al­ ready here). �Nothing that is wrong in principle can be right in practice. . . . . Carl Schurz THE COMPOST H E A P , or How to Spin Straw into Gold Our hard Tennessee clay needs all the help it can get to become dark, rich, loamy soil in which we can gar­ den with pleasure. Here, then, is how we can do something about the situation in as little as 14 days, using natural vege­ table wastes such as kitchen garbage, weeds, and grass clippings, and manure or a little civilized help such as cotton­ seed meal or prepared manure (to pro­ vide nitrogen) and a shredder or lawn mower to chop everything up to­ gether. Here is the recipe: 1 six-inch layer of grass clippings, weeds, or other green material 1 two-inch layer of manure or cottonseed meal, bone meal, or blood meal. Even sewage sludge (from sewage plant, not septic tank) may be added. 1 one-inch layer of soil with some ground limestone or phosphate rock mixed in. Repeat these layers, ending with soil on top, until the compost heap is about 5 feet high and 5 to 10 feet long, depressed slightly in the middle so it will hold water. When you have finished building, water the heap thoroughly. On the second day the compost heap should begin to heat up. Turn the pile with a pitchfork or shovel every three days to keep it aerated and add water if it begins to dry out. In 14 days it should begin to cool off and you'll have some great crumbly compost to plow into your hard Tennessee soil in the fall. Then, next spring, just plant your seeds and jump back fast! Both in the last century and this, the general way of seeding corn and other grain was to broadcast it by hand and cover the seed with a harrow. Flattery, like cologne, should be inhal­ ed and enjoyed, but never swallowed. �Remember that eggplants are largely carbohydrates while spinach, carrots, cabbage, and tomatoes are a store­ house of valuable vitamins and minerals. Nantes carrots have more vitamin A than others and also grow well here. In general, the deeper the color the higher the vitamin content of vegetables. Transportation was of major concern to settlers everywhere and here in Solway we were dependent first on the waterways and then the railroad. These forms of locomotion slowed the building of roads, but another factor entered in: the hilly, wooded country and the many non-fordable rivers made road building very expensive. Since there was little public money for this purpose, what roads there were were the community under­ takings of those who used them. Another solution was then p r o ­ posed—the toll road. Thus came into being the pikes of song and story. Remember the bootlegger who sped to his death down our Kingston Pike in the ballad, "Thunder Road"? SLICING C H E E S E Let three gallons of milk clabber overnight. Strain the clabber through a cloth to remove most of the whey. Put the curd in a large pan and heat and stir gently. A d d a little butter and one cup of sour cream and some salt to taste. Cook till it becomes like a thick gravy. Pour into a bowl and add one teaspoon of soda. Stir this while it cools. Let it sit in a cool place for a few days. It makes a firm cheese that you can slice. In the middle 1800's, private com­ panies were licensed to build toll pikes, along which a toll could be charged every five miles. Private investors formed the companies and could pay for their share in either cash or labor. The spring house used to be the re­ frigerator. This is where the milk, eggs, and butter were kept cool during the hot summer months. �The seed packet may say plant rows 18" apart, but that was designed for mechanical cultivation. Why leave space unused? Nature won't. Avoid the weeds by filling in with plants and by smothering bare spots and paths with a heavy mulch. Presto! No more work. Just pick your vege­ tables. When in charge, ponder. When in trouble, delegate. When in doubt, mumble. Melton Hill Lake is now one of the T V A ' s chain of lakes, calm and beau­ tiful, but it was once a lively little river called the Clinch. It bounded one side of Solway, with only a rail­ road bridge across it. Those who wanted to get to the other side took the ferry at the end of Ferry Pike Road. 1919... For the first time, the importance of screening their houses was empha­ sized to our people by the farm and home agents. "Swat the F l y " pro­ grams became popular. In planning your garden, consider your family's health as well as taste buds. Plant the most nutritious vari­ eties of vegetables in the space you have. Romaine lettuce has twice the vitamin C and vitamin A found in ice­ berg lettuce. It grows well here, too. The first tax levy in our county, in 1793, was a land and poll tax. In 1796, taxes were levied on land, polls, and slaves. By 1798 the tax base had broadened still more, and the county tax was levied as follows: 100 acres 25 cents poll tax 25 cents one slave 25 cents one town lot. . . 25 cents each stud horse . 25 cents one billiard table . . . .$25.00! �A bird will also eat tender new plant leaves. Outwit him. Criss-cross string above the plants from sticks on either side of the patch. Looks like a trap and a bird won't go near. 'Humus" is the Latin word for soil. We heard that a pan of beer in the gar­ den overnight enticed snails to a euphoric death-but all we got were tipsy dogs. Lest you think of the 1920's and '30's in our farm area as a time of only day­ light-to-dark work (which it was), we would remind you of the high spir­ its and good times when young people got together. There's Ruth Cobb Wood, for instance: her medals and cash prizes for being the best dancer, when the Charleston was the rage, were the envy of even those city folks over in Knoxville. Oak Ridge, Tennessee, the atomic city, is now the center of much East Ten­ nessee activity. It was not always so. A t the turn of the century, our Solway was a bustling community, and across the Clinch River, where Oak Ridge would someday nestle, there were only a couple of small general stores and a mill in the area called Scarboro. Still, the Solway ferry enjoyed the benefits of steady traffic between the two areas. There would seem to be little to attract Solwayites to cross the river since they not only had a general store of their own, but also the railway station, but commerce was the enticing reason. A main crop was broom corn and the store had a broom-tying machine; thus, many farmers took their crops to be processed, paying with a portion of the brooms. What man's mind can create, man's character can control. . . . . Edison Looking for a good return on your investment? If you picked lettuce from your garden for dinner, you saved the price of the entire packet of seed in one meal. The next 60 serv­ ings are dividends. �Did we have better prophets in yesteryears, or do we just no longer listen? A t any rate, at least two Solwayites saw the future plainly. William Fitzgerald predicted there would be such things as electric lights and plowing the fields at night. He also foresaw a big town in Anderson County which would make good times for Knox County and Solway. Oss Fox also predicted the coming of Oak Ridge, albeit in vague terms. "Somethin' big is gonna happen around here." And over in a private field in Oak Ridge is the grave of Jim Hendrix, a man who at the turn of the century when he was fifty years old, is reported to have predicted in this fashion to many people: " A n d I tell you that Bear Creek Valley some day will be filled with great buildings and factories, and they will help toward winning the greatest war that ever will be. Then there will be a city on Black Oak Ridge, the center of everything to be a spot which is middle way between Sevier Tadlock's farm and Joe Pyatt's place (the present site of the Oak Ridge federal building). "Railroad tracks will run between Robertsville and Scarboro. Thousands of people will be running to and fro. They will be building things and there will be a great noise and confusion and the earth will shake." In the new American Museum of Atomic Energy there is a special exhibit about J i m Hendrix and his predictions of the atomic age, long before it happened. �The typical farm home o f the 1870's in Knox County was described as "a double log cabin covered with clap­ boards, with chimneys of sticks, mortar-lined on the inside . . . rarely two stories, but invariably a loft, reached by a ladder or open anrrow steps. The house is surrounded by a rail fence, enclosing a small garden and yard. The outbuildings, if any, are built of logs or poles and rarely consist of anything beyond a corn crib and stable." Small wonder that farm youths at this time began leaving home to work in the coal mines of Anderson County or the growing industries of Knoxville, or migrating to the "prom­ ised land" of the West. Y o u can color unfinished wood with a solution made from green walnut hulls boiled in water. Mulching your strawberries with moldy hay or sawdust will help keep them free of disease, since mold kills nematodes that often attack the berry roots. If you insist on a modern aid for burns, crack open a Vitamin £ capsule and apply. It speeds healing. A bird is a super-efficient bug con­ troller. Encourage him with bushes for shelter and seeds in the winter. J . C . Lyons, Solway's school principal today, tells of riding a mule from Knoxville to Solway, seated in front of his grandpa. It was a long day, and especially so because grandpa never, coming or going, said one word. The verb "admitted" should be banned from every news reporter's vocabulary. When he quotes a speaker as having "admitted," he implies fault, condemn­ ing before presenting the facts. Let him tell us it was said, stated, remark­ ed, retorted, but let us decide for ourselves whether it was "admitted." �BALANCE ... a word that describes nature at its best. Nothing predominates, neither weeds nor man. This is a har­ mony that warms the soul and soothes the mind. The greatest threat posed by pesticides is not any single effect, not the poison in your drinking water, for instance, but the unforeseen conse­ quences of upsetting nature's balance. K i l l a wicked potato beetle, yes, but how protect the nearby honey bee? Destroy a noxious weed; how save the earthworm beneath? The best garden is not a p a r k it's a land in balance! No man is justified in doing evil on the ground of expediency. . . . . T. Roosevelt If you like to work, we recommend weeding. If you're lazy, like us, then mulch the soil. A six-inch layer of hay or straw between the rows of plants will smother weeds, hold in moisture, enrich the soil, and otherwise shower you with gifts from nature. Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable. . . . . Plato Just as balance is important in nature, so it is in civilization. Justice, untem­ pered by mercy, is degraded to re­ venge. Thus are statesmen separated from politicians. Pole beans! They bear longer, taste better, and take less space. It often shows a fine command of the language to say nothing. A rabbit loves tender green shoots, es­ pecially those of beans and peas. To discourage him, lightly sprinkle blood meal (which you can buy at a slaughter­ house or at some garden centers) over the plants. Being a virtuous vegetarian, the rabbit spurns the unexpected animal odor. This is an especially effective remedy. �Don't throw that plant away! Thin carrots, beets, and turnips by pulling some when they are barely large enough to eat. Repeat at intervals, and you will have wasted never a seed. A greasy car windshield is a hazard in the rain. We offer some solutions: a sack of smoking tobacco rubbed (sack and all) over the damp window helps a lot, as will coca cola poured over the window. Really busy? We say, "Busier than a bee in a tarbucket." The first school in Solway was a oneroom log cabin, where all 8 grades were taught. The well was down the hill from the school and thirsty students brought their own cups to carry down when they needed a drink of water. What a funny fing a frog are! When he run he j u m p When he stand he sit On he little tail What he ain't got Almost hardly. SWEET PEPPER R E L I S H 12 red bell peppers 12 green bell peppers 12 medium onions 1 pt. cider vinegar 2 c. sugar 3 tsp. salt Run peppers and onion through blender or food chopper. Heat vinegar, sugar, and salt to boiling and add chopped peppers. Boil 5 minutes, Ladle into hot jars and seal. It did not follow that a small, some­ what isolated community would have a limited social life. Our area buzzed with activity, lighthearted and inclu­ sive. Box suppers were a favorite form of fund raising. A n d woe betide the young fellow who was known to want a certain girl's box. Spirited bidding by all the men forced him to pay dearly— to everyone's delight. �When a feller spends more to get elect­ ed than his salary for four years in office, we begin to wonder. Attending a meeting of the city council, county court, or whoever spends your tax money might be very illuminating. Maybe healthy for the politicians, too. When's the last time you attended such a meeting? Okay, when's the first time? In our county, three county commissioners hold a great deal of power. Who's going to keep 'em honest if we don't? As the teacher used to tell us in class, " P A Y A T T E N T I O N . " It's very nice to be important, but It's more important to be very nice. . . . . Mary Frances Fox In our region, Better Boy tomatoes will keep producing tasty fruits after other kinds have withered and died. If at first you don't succeed— Y o u ' l l get a lot of advice. Did you know that different types of stones are required for grinding wheat and corn? We had two local m i l l s Couch Mill, a grist mill for grinding corn by water power, and Hendrix* Hardin Valley Mill where they could grind both corn and wheat. For heavier fruit crops, fertilize in late summer or fall with ground rock phosphate. Sprinkle lime under trees to cut down on fungus carryover. A good fish bait all year round is whole kernel canned corn. If you have a catalpa tree, and i f it has worms, you have lovely bait. How is it that the same people who are so indignant about political corruption at the national level are so complaisant Have you tried taking ballpoint ink out of clothes with hair spray? Just spray it on. about it at the local level? �Not only the coal-oil wagon and the traveling store used to make the rounds of the countryside, but the ice truck and the "coke" wagon regu­ larly came by. The ice truck, out from Knoxville, responded to the card placed in your window—25 lbs., 50 lbs., or whatever, chipping off the amount needed. A n d the coke wagon, a summer highlight, sold coke and orange drinks—35 cents for a 24-bottle case. It was drawn by horses some 50 years ago. Boxers of the Boxer Rebellion were so named because they were members of a secret Chinese society called Society for the Harmonious Fists. Bind a sprain or bruise with brown paper soaked in strong apple vinegar— we've been assured this really works to reduce swelling and pain. Warm water with ammonia and just a touch of vinegar is still the best way to wash windows—especially if you rub them dry with newspaper. No man is the whole of himself. His friends are the rest of him. SOFT M O L A S S E S COOKIES Vi c. margarine /i c. sugar 1 tsp. ginger A tsp. ground cloves 1/8 tsp. nutmeg h tsp. cinnamon A tsp. salt 3 c. flour 2 tsp. baking soda Vi c. molasses Vi c. sour milk x l x l Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you i n . . . . . Robert Frost M i x all ingredients to make a soft dough. Drop or roll out and cut. Bake 5 to 8 min. at 375°. �Blossom-end rot on tomatoes can be caused by a calcium deficiency, sometimes brought on by great changes in the moisture conditions for the plants. To correct it immediately, apply a little calcium nitrate around each plant and water it well. For long-term prevention, add ground limestone to your vegetable garden when plowing each fall. Nothing is so strong as gentleness; Nothing so gentle as real strength. I reckon you'd look in the right direc­ tion if we suggested you should look at 'at 'air hill over yonder. I'd rather have cobwebs i n my house than in my mind. Indian artifacts found throughout our area remind us that we are not really the natives. Nor is our wisdom neces­ sarily of universal use. Speaking of the white man's schools in the 1700's, Indian leaders said: "We have had some experience of it: several of our young people . . . . were instructed in all your sciences, but when they came back to us, they were bad runners; ignorant of every means of living in the woods; unable to bear either cold or hunger; knew neither how to build a cabin, take a deer, or kill an enemy; spoke our lan­ guage imperfectly . . . . they were to­ tally good for nothing." 1928. . . Home demonstration agents taught 4-H girls to sew. They made dresses and underclothes for school. The cost? $1.85 to $2.75 for the entire outfit. �The first tender handful of peas or butterbeans can be stretched to feed the family by adding dumplings to the juice when the vegetables are almost done. Hit don't make no never mind. DUMPLINGS Make up some biscuit dough with flour and milk and not quite as much shortening as for biscuits. Roll this out as thin as piecrust and let sit while you bring the juice to a good boil. Cut the dumplings into short strips and drop one at a time into the juice while it boils. Do not stir and cook just un­ til they are done. Y o u can add two eggs to this dough and make rich drop dumplings by dropping a slight teaspoonful at a time into the boiling juice. Wild onions (allium) were a sea­ soning mainstay of the American Indians. Parboiled first i n water which you discard, and then braised in butter, they still make a tasy dish. There's the school of thought that says a few drops of ice water in the ear will relieve the ache until you reach the doctor. Use your herbs from the garden to treat your face to a herbal sauna facial, and tie some herbs in a bit of cheesecloth to add to your bath water for a refreshing beauty soak. The "life's like that" department: Always a day late and a dollar short. Y o u ain't slept t i l you've slept on a shuck tick. But that's what a lot of local people had for mattresses, corn being so plentiful. Alternatives were straw ticks and for real winter coziness, those made of goosedown. �During depression days, the home de­ monstration agents changed our style of sleeping by teaching the women how to make cotton mattresses. They held classes on the porch of the local store, even providing the cotton and the ticking for a cover. Cash money was raised in ingenious ways in days gone by. "Musseling" was one of the more profitable ones. Mussel shells were gathered and sold for buttons. Many people brought in tow sacks full. Though the gatherers cleaned out the shells (occasionally finding a fresh-water pearl), the odor was still overpowering by the time enough were gathered at the depot to ship out by rail. Did you know that wild plants have been found to have a higher mineral content than most cultivated varieties? A d d a handful of dandelion or wild mustard greens and a bit of wild on­ ion to your salad bowl for a salad that's full of flavor, fresh and health­ ful. A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of. . . . . Ogden Nash If the picnic's good enough, you don't mind walkin' through the brush to get there. The politician's temptation: Although musseling was done partly from flat-bottomed boats, Blind J i m (Jim Baker) was as successful as any­ one, because he, like many, found mussels in shallow muddy water with his feet. Blind J i m knew the Solway area so well that he walked wherever he wish­ ed, alone, with only a stick for aid. Everybody's money is nobody's money. When an onion gets soft or starts to sprout, don't throw it out—plant it. Soon you can harvest a bunch of green onions for salads. �Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation. . . . . Robert F . Kennedy The Solway Ferry was powered by a hand-wound winch, but Black's Ferry, which preceded it, was paddled across with oars and poles. Luckily, the river, though deep, was not wide. It's the right string, baby, but the wrong yo-yo NOVEL ARITHMETIC* Example: What number becomes even by subtracting one? Answer: s-even Rub an emery board on spots on suede shoes to erase the shine. If your cucumbers were bitter last summer, it may have been because of poor weather. The bitterness can be caused either by long periods of wet weather or an extended dry spell. It will help to plant varieties that are recommended for this area. These, says UT's Agricultural Extension Ser­ vice, are Saticoy Hybrid, Poinsett, Burpee Hybrid, Ashley, Model, and Boston. Both Model and Boston are recommended for pickling. 1. What number, by adding one, be­ comes sound? 2. What number, by adding one, be­ comes isolated? 3. What number, by inserting one, be­ comes finely ground meal? 4. What number, by subtracting one, becomes a vegetable growth? 5. What number, by subtracting one, becomes a preposition? 6. What number, by subtracting one, becomes an exclamation of con­ tempt? 7. What number, by subtracting one, becomes a costly substance? •Taken from the St. Nicholas Maga­ zine, 1887. �Most wild meats should be civilized before cooking by marinating in wine, vinegar, or lemon juice. This also helps tougher cuts of beef. Cook with moist, slow heat. A d d onion soup mix for a tasty and easy pot roast. O Lord, let my words be gracious and tender today for tomorrow I may have to eat them. Many farmers of this community still plant crops and plan other activi­ ties according to the "signs," meaning the zodiac signs or the area of the heavens in which the moon rises at that time of month. Most just follow the signs as given on a calendar mark­ ing signs most favorable for planting. A n easy rule to remember is to plant root crops in the dark of the moon, (that is: waning) and other vegetables in the light of the moon (when it is waxing, or growing toward a full moon). There's no such thing as a free lunch. Powdered sulphur will keep snakes out of the yard. Another money crop for local people in the 1920's and earlier was timber. Going north, they cut logs and floated them down the Clinch River during high water periods. They accompanied the logs by building a raft and floating themselves as well, stopping not at home but only when they reached Chattanooga. 1. ONE T 2. O N E L 3. F O U R L 4. T H R E E - H 5. F O U R - U 6. F I V E - V = TONE = LONE = FLOUR = TREE = FOR = FIE 7. F O U R - O = F U R �There is so much good in the worst of us, A n d so much bad in the best of us, That it hardly behooves any of us To talk about the rest of us. To see a world in a grain of sand, A n d heaven in a flowerTo hold infinity in the palm of your hand, A n eternity in an hour! Bay leaves left in cabinets will keep weevils out. It is said that a few drops of warm wine (placed in the ear, of course) will ease earache. Or you might try tobacco smoke blown into the ear. About 1902 there was a legal still in Solway. "Booze," as it was officially known, was made under government supervision in a small ravine (which is still visible where Sparks Road joins the Oak Ridge highway). The location was determined by a spring which flowed there, but the water became contaminated from floods and Solway never became the Jack Daniels of Tennessee. Friendship doubles our joy and divides our grief. When I works, I works hard. When I sits, I sits loose; A n d when I thinks, I falls asleep. �Many activities were shared by the whole community. Molasses was made down by a big spring at the curve of Guinn Road where the water made it easy to clean up the mess. A big heavy grinding stone was powered by a cir­ cling horse. Sorghum cane stalks were squeezed of juice which then poured into a long vat over a fire and by the time it reached the end of the vat, thick molasses dripped into barrels. Bottom land, where, as everybody knows, silt from the spring floods is deposited, is best for growing things. Since corn was a big crop in the Sol­ way area, the corn fields were planted along the Clinch River. It was not un­ usual to see fields of corn not many rows wide but two miles long. There are only two lasting bequests we can give our children—one is roots, the other, wings. Give your dogwoods a dose of Epsom salts for bigger, more plentiful blos­ soms. If your space is limited, why not turn the tables and add vegetables to your flower borders? Leaf lettuce is attract­ ive as a border, and radishes will grow quickly and can be replaced with annuals. Try a tomato plant on a trellis or fence, and add some okra plants among your hollyhocks. �Mouth ulcers are a pesky, persistent nuisance. Try rinsing your mouth with lemon juice and salt to get rid of them. The best way to convince anyone he is wrong is to let him have his way. Pour your left-over coffee, coffee grounds, tea, and tea leaves around acid-loving plants. They will thrive on it. And here's another poke recipe. FRIED POKE S A L L A T Gather a sack full of young tender poke sprouts early in the spring. Wash and parboil them. Lift the poke out of the water and put into a hot skillet with a little oil. Cook until the juice dries out, then sprinkle with some cornbread crumbs or cornmeal and salt. Cook until good and dry. Break two eggs over the poke and stir for a couple of minutes, then take up and eat. H O L I N G UP V E G E T A B L E S F O R WINTER Dig a shallow hole in the garden or convenient spot and line it with about eight inches of hay or straw. Pull cab­ bages up by the roots and start around the outside of the circle, packing them with the roots sticking out. Build another stack on top of this, fitting the heads between the others. Continue going around, building up a mound. Cover all this with about eight inches of hay or straw and then cover it with dirt. Place boards or plastic sheet on top to keep the rain out. Tunnel into the side of the mound and pull a cab­ bage head out by the roots as you need one, but be sure to start at the bottom of the mound and to fill in the hole with lots of straw and dirt. Y o u can also keep sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, or apples in a mound like this. Our favorite local expression: Oh, la! �If you say you arc "for sure" about a fact, it's just a softer , southern way of saying you are positive. A census was taken in 1795, along with a vote on the question of statehood for Tennessee. A t that time the population of Knox County was 11,573. The majority of the vote was for statehood. A glass of warm water every morning is an easy, painless, dependable solution to constipation. A stronger remedy for emergencies: a small glass of sauerkraut juice. Housewives make too much work of sweet potatoes. Don't bother with the pineapple sauce, the brown sugar, or the apples. Just bake the potatoes w hole and serve with butter. Mmmmmm! Incidentally, they're one of the easiest crops to grow in our area. Just striking a match kills many odors. Everybody in town had a ride in an automobile when Nip Guinn brought the first car to Solway—a Maxwell! Truly vine-ripened tomatoes peel easily. Don't bother to scald them. The wooden shoring of the railway tunnel once caught on fire. The fire was so far inward that it could not be reached from either end, so workers bored a hole down through the hill from above in order to put out the fire. �Why take up space with cucumber plants spread all over the garden? They grow fine on fences. Speaking of recycling, nylon stockings are handy in the garden. Cut crosswise strips for strong, soft ties to use in staking tomatoes, hollyhocks, peonies, or whatever. Pour your insecticide powder (if you must use it) into a stocking for a fine, even dusting tool in the vegetable garden—and you don't have to bend your back as much either. Cut a run-free section of a stocking and knot it securely at the bottom for a good strainer for making jellies, etc. A nail stuck in the ground next to a tomato plant defeats the cutworm, who must wrap himself around the plant stem to do his guillotining. Cut off the top four inches or so of any plastic detergent, bleach, or ammonia bottle to have a convenient funnel. Caught camping without your tooth­ brush? Shred a pleasant-tasting tree branch (maybe sweet gum or sassafras) to use. As children, we love our parents. As students, we tolerate our parents. As adults, we forgive our parents. And as parents ourselves, finally we understand our parents. When you're ready to go off the edgeremember that the Lord in His infinite mercy made the world round. I have as much patience as the rest of you, I just don't have time to practice it. L o r d , when we are wrong, make us willing to change, A n d when we are right, make us easy to live with. . . . . Peter Marshall �Box suppers, ice-cream socials, quilting bees, Saturday night fiddlers—all these were part of an active social life for the Solway community when families and neighbors still supplied their own entertainment. But the highlight of the year was the annual fair—a four day event which drew people from as far as it was possible to come by horse and buggy. Horse racing was the biggest part of the fair, with everything from trotting horses to racers; there were two-wheeled cart contests (a social occasion), as well as the more conventional racing events, and even a pony show. The fairgrounds in and just east of what is now called Burchfield Heights (though it really was level enough to make a fine fair site), provided varied entertainment for everyone. The children concentrated on the ice-cream booth, where cones, large and luscious, were a nickel—or the popcorn stand, also offering bargains to hold the inner boy together. For those in need of more than a snack, Aunt Effie Miller provided meals at 25 cents per person—and found herself cooking from morning til night. A n d of course the picnic basket, full of pots of beans, ham, and cold biscuits, was a common sight. If you hadn't spent all your money on food, you might buy large gas-filled balloons. On one occasion, some enter­ prising young Lindberghs thought holding enough of them might even make them airborne, but somehow they never got off the ground. As the fair grew, barns were built and cattle exhibits featured, as well as the choicest examples of farm crops. Fun, pride, relaxation, neighboring—the fair was a fitting climax to the farmer's year of demanding work. �A n easy way to get distilled water for your house plants or the steam iron or the car battery is to use the water collected by your dehumidifier. Even i f you are on the right track, you'll get run over i f you just sit there. It's average to make a mistake. Dill weed is a useful plant to have in the garden—and the most useful part is that you just have to plant it once! It comes up year after year. Perhaps that's why it's called "weed." Cockfighting was a general sport in the county prior to 1890 and most farm flocks had the influence of game blood. The Knoxville cockpit where regular cock fights were held was on Church Street, where the Methodist Church was later built, and it may be presumed that Solway cocks won their share of battles there. Practicality joined with ingenuity dur­ ing the depression when small boys managed to obtain the family's winter supply of coal by soaping the railroad tracks. This caused the wheels to spin, temporarily stalling the train long enough for someone to leap on board and toss out a few shovelsful of coal. Are the neighbors tired of watering your house plants while you vacation in the sun? Let them water themselves by running a cotton wick from a large bucket of water to the bottom of each pot—or cover each plant with a clear plastic bag after watering well. Be sure to leave them well shaded. �Lighter fluid is handy to have around. It will take gum out of hair, take cray­ on marks off walls, and will painlessly kill an insect for preserving. Those who think they know it all up­ set those of us who do. And while we're in the business of handy little hints—we're also good at curing hiccups: by drinking sips of water, by scaring the victim, by making him angry, by eating a teaspoonful of sugar, or by breathing into a paper bag. Do you have an invalid, either young or old, for whom time hangs heavy? If you live in the country or a wooded area—or even if you have trees and bushes in your yard—you have the re­ sources for a fascinating hobby for your shut-in. Install a windowsill bird feeder where the patient can easily see it, or move the patient to a convenient window. Birds become friends, person­ alities. A n d their variety is astonishing. Or you might try nail polish remover. It, too, will take crayon marks off walls; it will remove a piece of plastic bag melted on, say, the side of the toaster. Invent other uses of your own. The coming of the railroad to Solway was an important event, though it did not have many of the aspects of a trans-continental joining. In fact, when the train brought work crews to the end of the line it returned to Knoxville by backing up. �When the railroad was being built through Solway, work progressed around the clock. A n d if it didn't pro­ gress, action was as prompt and decisive as one usually associates with stories of the Wild West. Ponder the case of the laborer who refused to work a double shift: his boss shot him dead. The old West shared another of its ways with the local railway builders who paid their crews i n silver dollars. �The young leaves and blossom petals as well as the fruit of the common wild strawberry can be eaten raw. The dry leaves can be steeped to make tea. In fact, during the Revolutionary War they were sold for that very purpose. "We had begged for life, and the white men thought we wanted theirs." . . . . Chief Red Cloud Is it so bad to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be mis­ understood. . . . . Emerson One very important ingredient of success is a good, wide-awake, persist­ ent, tireless enemy. A man there was They called him mad The more he gave The more he had. To clean a crystal vase or pitcher where you cannot reach the inside, add scrap­ ed raw potato and water and let it stand for some time. Most aromatic herbs are virtually free from insects. Y o u can add to your culinary delights by including basil, rosemary, thyme, dill, and parsley in your vegetable garden, and at the same time repel pests. Mint is not recommended for the garden, however, as it needs a special bed to contain its rampant growth. Use it up, wear it out; Make it do, or do without. �Comfort is a want and not a need. Recycling may be new in many areas but people in small communities were always practical, and Solway was a fine example. When Oak Ridge became a reality during the second World War and thousands of people poured into the area, extra food was much in de­ mand. Where the present Hamilton National Bank stands was then the site of a hog pen where some 1700 head of hogs were raised—fed on garbage from Oak Ridge, which was hauled across the river by two old trucks. Plant your flower garden with masses of different types of plants rather than single plants scattered around inside a border. The effect is more natural and attractive. Curved rather than straight lines are also more pleasing to the eye. Tennessee has many blessings, but no place is without a few nuisances and one of ours is chiggers, invisible rascals who burrow into the skin causing an intense itching over several days. Nail polish applied to the spot satisfactorily smothers them, and salted fatback also helps stop the itching. There was also a good deal of truck farming in the area. Many of us can re­ member being paid 10 cents a bushel to pick beans. Y o u know, we hope, that the leaves from the aloe plant are good for burns. Just rub the fresh juice from a broken leaf on the burn—or sunburn, or even insect bite—for immediate relief. DRIED APPLES Peel the apples and slice thin, then spread slices out in the sun to dry. Cover them with cheese cloth to keep the flies off. Y o u can also dry them in the oven overnight at 100 degrees. �APPLE STACK C A K E For apple filling, soak two to three cups of dried apples for about an hour in one or one-and-a-half cups of water. Cook the apples on medium heat with sugar and spices to your taste. Mash up to make a nice thick filling. To hull black walnuts, put them in a cloth sack and run over them with the car. Life is like an onion; Y o u peel off one layer at a time, A n d sometimes you weep. Butternut squash, blemish-free, keeps well throughout the winter just laid out in rows in a cool room. For cake layers: 1/2 c. buttermilk 1 egg 1 tsp. vanilla 1 c. sugar 1 tsp. baking pinch of salt plain flour powder 1/2 tsp. soda 1/2 c. shortening butter is best Cream butter and sugar. A d d egg and beat well. A d d other ingredients. A d d flour enough to handle. Place a small amount of dough in a cake pan that has been greased and floured. Press the dough out in the pan. It should be no more than 1 / 4 " thick be­ fore baking in a 350°-400° oven until light brown. Butter while hot. Bake all layers. When layers have cooled, spread the dried fruit filling between the lay­ ers. The fruit should be at least half as thick as the cake layer. Leave the top layer plain. The cake is best i f covered tightly and refrigerated at least over­ night before serving. Be sure to keep it refrigerated if it lasts more than a day. Before the days of refrigeration, these cakes were stored in a lard stand (a metal can for lard with a tightfitting lid) and placed outside on a porch or in an unheated room. �Separation of church and state is all very well from an ideological point of view, but from the physical side our schools and churches were mutually entwined to the benefit—indeed, the survival—of both. Less than 100 feet from where the present Fairview grade school now stands, the Methodists built a log church in the late 1800's. This was the M . £. (Methodist-Episcopal) North, or original, Methodist group, from which the M . E . South (pro-slavery) group had split off before the Civil War. In a border state such as Tennessee, the issue of slavery was a keen one, so much so that as late as 1934, M . E . South members objected to marriages with members of M . E . North. It was not until 1939 that the two groups again merged. In 1893, a one-room frame building was put up for a school for all 8 grades. In those days, fire was a constant menance. Once under way it was almost im­ possible to put out, and the old wood and coal heaters were a hazardous method of heating. Sure enough, the school burned down, but Methodists to the rescueclasses were held in the log church. A new two-room school was built in the same area and in its turn provided help for the Baptist Church members who met there after their nearby church went up in flames. Meanwhile, the Methodist Church had dissolved and was reorganized about 1910. It was now known as the Fairview Methodist Church. The Reverend Mr. Cobble was the organizing minister, but since he was a circuit rider it was �possible to have but one preaching service a month, and that on Sunday after­ noon. Sunday School met each week, however, also in the afternoons. The Baptists, who had rebuilt, discontinued their services about this time and made their church available to the Methodists. People made great sacrifices to equip the church. A new piano, 30 new hymnals, pulpit furniture, and several smaller items were purchased and paid for at a time when money in this small rural community was almost unknown. They had scarcely finished furnishing it when it was destroyed by fire in 1919. Now the Methodists were forced to meet in the school; they began to plan a small white frame church, which was completed in the early twenties and called Solway Methodist. In 1936, the congregation was informed that the Walnut Grove Methodist Church, shortly to be covered by the waters of Norris Lake, from T V A ' s first dam, could be had if they were willing to tear it down and move the lumber. Thus, they enlarged the church and added Sunday School rooms. The school, meanwhile, had grown and was now housed in a three-room brick building. This, however, burned in 1939. Prospects for a new school were bleak in these depression times and for almost two years, school was possible only because the Methodist Church was again available for classrooms. However, with the aid of the WPA, a new brick school, the present Fairview School, was finally finished and was dedicated on Dec. 7, 1941—Pearl Harbor Day! In 1951 the Methodists, too, moved into a new building—their present church, complete with Sunday School rooms in the basement. One more time, shared facilities helped out, for while they were building the new church on the same spot as the old one, services were held in the new school, �When your child brings in a " w o r m " or caterpillar, don't be afraid to "raise" it and see what happens. Send the child back out to get some of the plant on which he found the caterpillar—or some twigs with leaves from the tree on which it was found. This is the food plant. Put the food plant in water in a container so the whole arrangement will fit into the pie-pan cage. Replenish the food supply when necessary. The cater­ pillar will usually turn into a chrys­ alis in the cage and in a couple of weeks emerge as a butterfly. Every family with children should have a cage in which to raise caterpillars. Watching the growth and metamor­ phosis of a caterpillar is also a simple and interesting way of entertaining an invalid, young or old. A simple cage can be made by using two tin pie pans. Punch holes around the bottom surface of one pan at 1W intervals. Buy enough screen wire to make a tube 18" high and the circum­ ference of the pie pan with a 2" over­ lap. Using a strand of wire, lace the tube together and lace it to the bottom of the pan. The other pan is the lid. If you were asked to crack the window, would you open it a bit as we would? Another ingenious way of trans­ porting corn to market was to provide it with legs to march to slaughter by feeding it to livestock. Don't sweat the small stuff. Corn was the major crop in our area which, inevitably perhaps, resulted in a plentiful number of stills. There were several very practical reasons for this: distilled liquor is easier to trans­ port than the bulky ears of corn; it is a dependable way of turning the crop into cash; the demand is fairly steady; and if one tires of eating corn on the cob, corn off the cob, or corn made into cornbread, it is always con­ soling to be able to drink it. �If it were raining soup, I'd be caught outside with a fork. If cucumber leaves turn yellowish and cucumbers grow slowly, with pointed blossom end, you need to add more nitrogen. Cottonseed meal, bone meal, or blood meal are good sources. It's what you learn after you know it all that counts. BLACKBERRY JELLY Pick good ripe berries; wash and cap them. Cook in a large pot with just a little water to start them boiling. As soon as they boil, remove from heat and strain through a cloth bag. Measure the juice and add 1 cup of sugar for each cup of juice. Cook until it sheets off the spoon. Remember we told you about all the scraps from the cafeterias in Oak Ridge being brought to Solway to fat­ ten hogs to become food for the cafe­ terias? Well, there was a dividend. Y o u know how cafeterias operate. Sure enough, everybody in Solway had a complete set of silverware which had once seen service on the other side of the river. 1919 . . . "The tractor had gained rapidly in favor; I believe it is here to stay. . . . . County Agent's report In 1816 true bills were returned against Henry Lonas, Jr. for "assaulting and abusing a man slave. Henry, the property of William Whitsman," and against Pumroy Carmichael for "beating and killing sundry hogs, the property of George F . Reynolds." �Either orange juice or grapefruit juice will give two-and-a-half times as much Vitamin C as the same amount of tomato juice. I'm the kind of person who always hits the nail on the thumb. Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must not be hindered by the name of goodness, but must ex­ plore if it be goodness. Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your mind. . . . . Emerson Harvest sweet potatoes after the vines have been frost-bitten. A turtle only moves ahead by sticking out his neck. County roads in the early days were maintained by the men who lived along these roads, with each man re­ quired to work his fair share in keep­ ing them in good repair. The county assisted only by reimbursing overseers for money spent on equipment (crow­ bars, sledges, blasting powder, etc.) and by appropriating money for the construction of a few bridges. If mice eat your tulip bulbs every year, try planting daffodils instead. Mice don't like the flavor of daffodils, narcissi, or grape hyacinths. Spills smoking in the oven? Sprinkle cinnamon over—then at least the smoke smells good! If you see someone without a smile, Give him one of yours. When you go on vacation and leave your pet at a kennel, his fleas, i f he has them, will be homeless and hungry with* out him. Leave a flea-killing substance in each room so that you will not be attacked when you return. �FRIED OKRA I Trim okra, parboil in salted water for five minutes. Drain. Dip in beaten egg, cornmeal, and then fry in bacon grease until golden brown. Drain on paper towels. F R I E D O K R A II Wash and trim okra, slice crosswise into /4-inch slices into bowl. M i x in one egg, V2 to 3/4 c. cornmeal, 1 tsp. salt, and pepper to taste. Stir up and put whole batch into skillet in hot grease and stir—fry until golden brown. COUNTRY CHOW-CHOW Wash two cabbage heads and chop fine. Peel and chop two firm ripe or green tomatoes. Chop up four unpeeled apples and two red and two green bell peppers. Slice a couple of carrots very thin and add to this. Sprinkle with about 1 cup of sugar and a pinch of salt. A d d two cups of vinegar and sprinkle with black pepper. Put on the stove and heat almost to a boil. Pack it into hot jars and seal. While you're pondering, we're thinkin' on it. Good land attracted farmers no matter what the hazards. Consider the island upstream from the present Solway bridge. Yearly it was planted to corn. A team of horses or mules would be forded over and left in sheds overnight during planting and harvesting seasons. Once a sudden rain raised the river and caught Mr. Walker. Neighbors rowed through swift waters to rescue him. Not so fortunate was a team of mules earlier caught and drowned in a whilpool at the upper end of the island. Though this island was farmed for nearly a century, it was not until very recently, shortly before it sank perman­ ently beneath Melton Hill Lake, that farmers discovered they had, these many years, been growing their corn above an Indian burial ground. �When you plant a cherry tree, plant a mulberry tree nearby. Y o u may not like mulberries, but the birds do, and they will be more apt to leave the cherries for you. Only some of us learn by other people's mistakes; The rest of us have to be the other people. Bloom where you are planted. It's easy to forget, though perhaps the energy crunch may remind us, but there was no electricity available to the residents of the Solway community until the mid-1930V. In 1800, in addition to making cash tax payments, each landowner was required to deliver six squirrel scalps or in lieu thereof to pay six cents. A green walnut hull will run off ants. Nor will they cross a sprinkling of black pepper. Powdered sulphur sprinkled in their path or along door and window sills will also keep ants out. Use an ordinary garden sprayer to spray your Christmas tree with water-based floor wax. Y o u ' l l be surprised at the benefits. It conserves moisture so the tree stays green and retains its leaves, and reduces the chance of aller­ gic reaction to the Christmas tree. Fatback, molasses, and the turnip patch got many an early farm family through the winter. �In 1789 Congress organized what is now Tennessee and Kentucky as the Terri­ tory South of the River Ohio, and President Washington appointed William Blount of North Carolina as the first governor. In 1791 the gover­ nor met with a large delegation of Cherokee Indians at the site of presentday Knoxville and negotiated the Treaty of Holston, setting the bound­ ary of Indian territory following the Clinch River to its mouth and from there to run eastward to the North Carolina boundary. Thus, the Solway community was at the very border of Indian territory. Dose your corn ears with mineral oil to control corn-ear worms. Just a few drops on the tip of each ear after the silks begin to turn brown at the tips will do the trick. Y o u know that family vacations are out­ dated when the children complain that there's nothing to do when all you want to do is nothing. Root cellars used to be important in preserving garden produce for winter— and the same principles still work well. Beds of sand were prepared for carrots, beets, turnips, and rutabagas. The sand was kept damp to keep the vegetables from drying out until used. Potatoes were layered with straw in bins. Onions were braided and hung up to dry. Hot peppers were also hung to dry. Green beans were strung with needle and thread and hung. A n osage orange placed under the kit­ chen sink will discourage cockroaches. Hot tea can be made by pouring boiling water over the leaves of spearmint or peppermint, and over the flowers of the elderberry. . . . in much of talking, thinking is half murdered. . . . . Kahfil Gibran �During the depression, the WPA pro­ vided jobs for many, even having murals painted in post offices. In our area, the needs were perhaps more mundane, but certainly most practical. WPA built out-houses, and with, perhaps, a touch of the artistic even here, painted them maroon. SHUCK BEANS Pick green beans when they are good and full. Remove strings and ends as if you were cooking them but do not snap. Use a large needle and quilting thread and thread them onto the string through the middle, not too close to­ gether. Hang the strings up on the wall to dry. When you're ready to cook them, just snap into pieces and soak in water for an hour or overnight. Cook at a slow simmer with salt and a ham hock to season. People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges. When you think you're killing time, time is killing you. The louder he talked of his honor, The faster we counted our spoons. , . , . Emerson Cooking cabbage? Place an Irish po­ tato or a slice of bread just under the lid. There will be no odor. Nobody loves a dandelion—unless he has tasted the young leaves in a spring salad, or had them cooked as greens. A n d by baking the root until brown and then powdering it, you can make a coffee substitute. �Farmers are made, not born, just as much as engineers or dentists. One great source of help was the county agricultural agent programs. In our Knox County, the agents, with the help of the University of Tennessee, began teaching the latest farming methods as far back as 1914. The agent's hardest job was to change accepted methods. If he could get a farmer to use his place as a dem­ onstration farm, where the new tech­ niques were tried, the evidence was much more convincing to the rest. In 1919, for instance, farmers were urged to apply lime to the lo­ cally acid fields for better production. "I've wore out more land than you'll ever own," was a truism that oldtimers might have been proud of, but their finite boundaries led them toward acceptance of the new ideas. To thine own self be true A n d it must follow As the night the day Thou canst not then be false To any man. . . . . Shakespeare The pepperv leaves and buds of nas­ turtiums are a nice addition to soup, stew, or salad. The iris is the Tennessee state flower and it grows very well here. Cut the foliage back and divide your clumps about every 3 years. Plant in full sun­ shine, on a well-drained spot with the rhizomes barely under ground. A d d a little bonemeal, limestone, or wood ashes to make the soil alkaline. Burning dried lemon or orange peel will kill even skunk odors. �The local county agent's office is a gold mine of information on any gar­ dening subject. Here are some of the varieties of fruit trees they recommend for this area: Peaches Early Mid Late Dixired Red Haven Redskin or Elberta Apples Early Mid Late Cortland Jonathan Golden Delicious Stay man Winesap Plums Bruce of Santa Rosa There are lots of folk ways to stop a cut from bleeding: bind it up with spider's web, put soot on the cut, bathe the cut with alum water, or place scorched cotton or cloth on the wound. A dish of vinegar will take a smoky smell out of the house. Look in the phone book under your county's name for County and Home Agent." 44 Parents don't know all the things their kids are doing, but they find out just enough to keep them on edge. A friend is a gift you give yourself. When it clouds up in Tennessee, we'll l o w as how hit's a-fixin' to rain. There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the con­ viction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion. . . . . Emerson �Amaze your friends with your green thumb by rooting some cuttings this easy way. Place cuttings (half-hard cuttings, i.e., this year's growth but not too young, are usually best for roses and shrubs) in a pot of vermiculite or vermiculite and sand mixed. Water well and let pot drain. Then put pot and all into a plastic bag and seal. Punch a small hole for venti­ lation and put on a windowsill to root. Rooting time varies but check when you see new leaves sprouting. If you support the bags inside with stakes you can even leave them in a shady spot outdoors. One of the small pleasures of life is a sharp axe. Solway's "supermarket" not too many years ago was a rolling store—an old converted bus that carried a surprising assortment. About twice a week it came driving through, to the intense excitement of the children, who could barter an egg from mama's henhouse for candy. One egg was worth 3 or 4 pieces! Everybody has heard "mad as a wet hen," but our people feel more strongly about it; they sometimes get as mad as a wet settin' hen"! 44 Some of the rich bottom land along the Clinch River long ago was too swampy to farm—but we found a so­ lution: to make it usable it was drained and tiled throughout! A furrow was plowed every so often and drain tiles buried as in any drain field. In other places, pine poles were laid in the fur­ rows and covered up, thus providing drainage holes. �Nearly every country has a national recipe which features a combination of rice and beans. Here, again, folk wis­ dom has its instinctive common sense. Both rice and beans are incomplete proteins, providing some but not all of the necessary body-building ingred­ ients. But combined, they become a complete protein food, about 43% more nutritious than when eaten separately. Our southern version of a rice and bean dish is : HOPPIN' J O H N Cook 6 slices of bacon until crisp. Remove from pan. A d d 2 cups of cooked black-eyed peas and 1 cup uncooked rice, plus 1 dried hot red pepper. Cook until rice is tender, adding more liquid i f needed. Crumble bacon, add, and serve. Nice garnished with parsley. If you have a fluorescent light under one of your kitchen cabinets you are all set to begin an indoor herb garden. The cabinet above the light provides a dark place with gentle bottom heat that is ideal for seed germination, and after the seedlings are large enough to transplant into pots, you can put them on a shelf or on the back of the count­ er under the light where they will provide a culinary delight for every meal. Be sure to get a fluorescent bulb designed for growing plants. Young people have developed a warm greeting: "Have a good day." We wonder if they borrowed it from our local folk, who for years have been asking, " Y ' a l l right today?" The best way to get something done is to begin. Minds are like parachutes, They function only when open. When Flossie Cox taught the first three grades in 1928, she had 54 children in her room. Plain sulphur in one's shoes is said to keep off chiggers. �1919 . . . Stereoptican slides were used by county agents at community meetings to illustrate phases of the new farm pro­ grams. The Delco Farm Lighting Co., sellers of gasoline generators and bat­ teries, provided light for many an even­ Okra seeds will come up with a better ing meeting. stand i f you plant radishes along with them. The radishes come up first and The civilized man has built a coach break the ground for the okra. Y o u but has lost the use of his feet. . . . can soon harvest the radish crop and His notebooks impair his memory; his your okra will be off to a good start. libraries overload his wit; the insurance office increases the number of accidents; and it may be a question whether we have not lost by refinement some energy, by a Christianity entrenched in establishments and forms, some vigor of wild virtue. For every stoic SOUSE OR H O G H E A D C H E E S E was a Stoic; but in Christendom, where Clean scalded hog's head thoroughly is the Christian? by scraping and scrubbing. Split head . . . . Emerson open, remove brains. (Save brains to cook with scrambled eggs.) Put head (and feet if desired) into On July 6, 1813, the Grand Inquest large pressure cooker or pot. Cook (an early county Grand Jury) returned until meat falls off bones. (45 min­ an indictment against Peggy McMahon utes in pressure cooker.) for being a public scold. Let cool. Pour off most of the liquid. Grind up meat, skin, cartilage from head and feet. Add 1 c. vinegar to 3 c. meat. A d d Get the food too salty? A d d a raw sage, salt, and pepper to taste. potato to soups, stews and pot roasts Pour into cloth bag. Set on rack which have been over-salted. in cool place (refrigerator will do) overnight. Mixture will jell. Slice and serve cold as meat dish. �60 years ago, alfalfa was an important crop here, no doubt to provide feed for the large herds of dairy cattle (mostly Jerseys) and beeves, and the many horses which were used both for transportation and cultivation. Percherons were favored locally for the heavy field work. Today these same farms lean heav­ ily on pigs for livestock, and have given up alfalfa, which is beset by a weevil. Corn, however, is still the mainstay it was then. A friend is someone who knows all about you and still likes you. Y o u can keep fleas away from your dog by using cedar shavings for bedding, or sprinkling cedar oil over the bedding. Keeps the "doggie odor" away, too. Symptoms are distressing but not dangerous. Before the days of the truck and agri­ business, it was the farmer's responsi­ bility to get his grain to the mill to be ground. Commonly, the sacks, hauled by mule, were hung equally on both sides to balance the load. The miller took 1/8 as his share for his labor— and because he weighed it sack and all, it was known as "miller's weight." Rhododendron leaves are a pretty good outdoor thermometer. If they point straight down you can be sure the temperature is near freezing. As it warms up the leaves spread out and on warm days they actually reach upward a little. 1928 . . . "Planning meals is something most country women seldom do—it's the same old thing day after day through­ out a season." . . . . County Agent's report �Home demonstration agents taught the housewives to can meat after hog killing time. Many of the pieces had been given away or allowed to spoil, while the rest went into an unvarying diet as long as the meat was good. Mix a cupful of ground coffee with your carrot seeds when you plant them. This has a double benefit. It makes it easier to sow the tiny seeds, and the coffee "percolates" enough odor during the season to repel the fly whose larvae sometimes make worm trails through your best carrots. If at first you do succeed— Try hard to hide your Astonishment. "CREASEY GREENS" Wash watercress thoroughly to get out all the trash, especially after a heavy rain in the crick. (Watercress supposedly will not grow in a polluted stream). Fry several slices of bacon until crisp. Pour off all but 1 ts grease . Remove bacon strips. Put watercress into hot grease . Stir-fry until wilted. Crumble bacon over the top and serve with hot cornbread. Sliced hardboiled eggs and/or vin­ egar may be served with the "greens." A little explained, A little endured, A little forgiven, The quarrel is cured. Sliced raw summer squash and sliced raw zucchini add color, texture, and good taste to a summer salad. If you're broiling in the oven, pour a little water in the pan under the rack. There'll be no spitting or burning grease. Life is like a piano— What you get out of it depends on how you play it. �Meat tenderizer is great for wasp stings—and there's a scientific reason: wasp venom is protein which the tenderizer breaks down. (Obviously, this won't help much for a bee sting where the trouble is caused by the stinger being left in the wound.) If you need a faucet washer and don't have one available, cut one out of an old leather glove or shoe tongue. This will also work as packing around a piston. George Lee ran the Solway Ferry in the early 1900's. It was jointly own­ ed by Knox County and Anderson County—which made it somewhat inconvenient for Mr. Lee since he had to go to both Knoxville and Clinton, the county seats of the two counties, to collect his salary. There is nothing more frightful than ignorance in action. . . . . Goethe If you worry about the scarcity and high price of fertilizer, consider what nature provides for free. Every time lightning strikes the earth, large amounts of nitrogen are charged into the ground. Nitrogen-fixing legumes, such as clover, lupines, peas, and beans can add a great deal more to your soil and be plowed under as green fertilizer. Rain and snow wash down not only nitrogen but some phosphorous, sul­ phur, carbonic acid, and traces of minerals from dust in the air. The gradual erosion of rocks in the soil also replenishes the mineral content of the soil. A compost pile can help return to your soil all of the elements living plants have taken from it. 1928 . . . Many children did not carry enough or the proper kind of lunch to school. Before the days of orga­ nized hot lunches, our teachers and some of the women in the commun­ ity volunteered to serve meals to the students. Some of the food was do­ nated and some was bought by the county; it was cooked on a small coal oil stove in the cloak closet— and nearly 100 children were fed every day! �It is rumored that the juice from a green walnut rubbed on ringworm will cure it. Compassion is a bureaucrat's e m o t i o n duty aspiring to be love. Did you know there is a Solway in Scotland? So it was only natural that when the railroad crew used to like to go out sol's way at sunset, toward the colorful western sky, the daughter of the railroad agent, Mr. Morrison, should name the place Solway. After all, the Morrisons were Scottish. SAUERKRAUT Wash cabbage heads and chop into thin slices. Pack into a stone crock and mix in salt to taste. The salt will draw the juice from the cabbage. Continue adding kraut and salt until the crock is almost full. Last of all you can peel your cabbage stalks and lay on top. Sprinkle these with salt. Put an old plate upside down on top and weight it down with a large clean rock to keep the cabbage covered with juice. Cover with a clean cloth and let it ferment for about 6 days. Then heat the kraut to a boil and put it in hot jars and seal. Or you can leave it i n the crock and keep in a cool place through the winter. 1932 . . . Effie Miller, Mae Guinn, Georgia Thompson, Sephie Leath, Bertha Lockett, Sarah Cagley, Eddith Cobb, Middle age is when you've met so many Chastaine Norman, Frances Williams— people that every new person you meet These local women were our home reminds you of someone else. demonstration leaders, whose teaching . . . . Ogden Nash was more acceptable than that of an imported expert. There must be a lesson somewhere in that, too. It's not the time we take to do some­ thing; it's what we take the time to do. �Because of the type of small homestead farming done in Knox County, there was little need for slaves. Most slaves listed in the early census were domestic help in the city of Knoxville. Consequently, when the possibility of Civil War arose, the issue in this county was the issue of secession, not slavery. A n d , not surprisingly, the city folks were more in favor of secession and preserving slavery, while the county people were more interested in preserving the union. In June, 1861, the state of Tennessee voted overwhelmingly in favor of joining the Confederacy, although the vote in Knox County was 2,829 against secession and only 439 for it. Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederate States, ordered that all citizens of East Tennessee take an oath of allegiance to the Confederacy or leave the country by October, 1861. Many took the oath with no intention of observing it, but many others left for Kentucky and northern states. In November, 1861, a number of bridges were burned across the state by Union sympathizers, including one near Knoxville at Strawberry Plains. The jails in Knoxville were soon so crowded with Unionists that an extra home was required to hold them all. As the war progressed, food and other commodities became very scarce and expensive. Oddly, one of the first "crises caused by the war emergency was a shortage of salt. The County Court appropriated money and sent an agent to Saltville, Virginia, to buy salt for the county. It was distributed to the citizens of each district as "the District commissioners in their Judgment might find just and equitable." Coffee rose from 14 cents to $1.00 a pound, when it was available. By April, 1862, the situation was so bad that transportation of flour, wheat, oats, bacon, etc., was forbidden. Occasionally a steamer would run the Union blockade of the lower Tennessee River to bring in a load of goods. In June, 1863, General W. P. Sanders, under orders from Major General �Ambrose Burn side, gained control of Knoxville for the Union Army after a battle where Fifth Avenue crosses Gay and Henley Streets. In the skirmish, 6 were killed and 9 wounded for the Confederate Army, and 4 killed in the Federal Army. By November of that year, the Confederate forces of L t . General James Longstreet came up from Chattanooga to besiege Knoxville. The first small battle took place on the Kingston Pike just west of Campbell's Station, with a victory for Union forces. The Union troops then withdrew into Knoxville, which had been heavily fortified in preparation for the siege. A pontoon bridge had also been built across the Holston River so they could receive supplies from county residents, who were mostly Union sympathizers. The Confederate attack was made from the northwest, which makes it likely that Longstreet's soldiers were camped throughout the Solway area. Nothing is recorded of battles in this area, and generally residents must have tried to stay out of the battle, though some remnants of shells have been found on the ridges in our community. There are also folk tales of horses, mules, pigs, and chickens confiscated from our farm homes by both Union and Confederate forces. A t any rate, Confederate losses in the battle were so heavy that they were extended a flag of truce to allow time to bury their dead. The Union army's successful defense of Knoxville resulted in the permanent establishment of Union forces at Chattanooga and Knoxville. After the siege ended, on about December 11, 1863, Burnside left Knoxville and was succeeded by John G . Foster, who established the general headquarters for the Union army throughout the remainder of the war in a house at the corner of Market Street and Cumber­ land. Longstreet retreated to the north and many Union supporters returned to Knoxville. �One of the most prominent was Parson Brownlow, publisher of a newspaper, "Brownlow's Knoxville Whig and Rebel Ventilator." He published long lists of Confederate sympathizers who were given notice to leave Knoxville and not to return until after the war. He was particularly rabid against the "most hateful and disgusting rebel women" and wholeheartedly supported military authorities in taking churches and hotels for hospitals, as evidenced in this editorial statement: "The Presbyterian, Methodist, and Baptist Churches here would be used for better purposes if turned into grog shops, selling mean corn whiskey for rebel money, than to be used to preach and pray such treason, blasphemy and blackguardism as have disgraced their walls and pulpits for the last three years." As the war drew to a close in the summer of 1864, conditions were bad, with much property destroyed and with smallpox rampant. Nevertheless, things were much worse in other areas, and trainloads of Union sympathizers began to flock back. Negroes celebrated their new freedom with a drum-beating parade down Gay Street. Many prominent Knoxvillians with Confederate sympathies left at this time for Memphis or elsewhere. The fanatic Parson Brownlow was elected governor of Tennessee in 1865 and some of his first acts were the exclusion of ex-Confederates from the ballot and conferring of suffrage upon Negroes. Unfortunately, these actions gave rise to the K u Klux Klan. The Klan never attained much following in Knox County. In general, Knox Countians were more concerned with rebuilding and re-establishing their businesses, schools, and farms. The conservative Knoxville "Press and Herald" expressed the hope of seeing "the blood thirst iness of Governor Brownlow checked at every point, and an era of reason and sobriety once more prevailing in the government of the state." �Every time you open your mouth you let people look at your mind. For a cough, home remedies include tea made from cockleburrs, snakeroot, ginger root, or mullein leaves. Youth is a gift of nature; Age is a work of art. 360 babies are born in the United State every hour, and between 2000 and 3500 puppies and kittens are also being born each hour! A pint jar of hominy was a staple in our school lunch boxes—though, as most everyone knew, it was such a satisfying snack that hardly any pupil had a bite left by noon. One of the problems occasioned by sudden growth is the housing as well as feeding of an influx of workers. This was certainly the case during World War II when Oak Ridge was started. Solway, of course, was equal to the challenge. Besides providing a great deal of food for the Oak Ridge cafe­ terias, families opened their homes, providing room and board to the men who built the highway connecting the secret installation tot he outside world. A liar should have a good memory. There are some things that just are not worth doodley-squat! In 1936, farm laborers were paid 50£ a day around here. This, plus a garden, chickens, a cow, and some pigs, pro­ vided sustenance for most of us. By 1945, farm work was worth $1 a day. But going to work for Monsanto (the government contractor at that time) in Oak Ridge provided the fabulous rate of 86^ an hour, or $6.88 a day! �A leader is best When people barely know he exists. Mount Hood is a creamy-white daffo­ dil that multiplies rapidly. Show me a man who never lies—and I'll show you a man with no friends. Not so good When people obey and acclaim him. Worse when they despise him. But of a good leader Who talks little When his work is done His aim fulfilled They will say "We did it ourselves." Lao-Tse (565 BC) We can control only our inner environ­ ment. Now we use a nicotine spray on plants to kill bugs; we used to use snuff, and of course it works just as well. Maybe hermits A R E happier. We've heard the tale of Jesse McMillian who went to medical school, but chose to come back here and become the local hermit. Though he couldn't carry a tune, he whistled, so they say, all day long. The more wrinkled the seeds, the sweeter the garden peas! The Indians used sunflower seeds for bread or in thickening their soups. It is not surprising to run across a small graveyard near many farmhouses in rural areas, because in early days ceme­ teries were family-owned. As with other graveyards, Eliazer Cobb's, off Fox Park Road, was the burial spot for family slaves as well as family members. �I am me. I will always be a secondbest somebody else. I am the best M E there is. 1932... F R I E D PIES Cook the dried apples with water until they are completely tender (about 1 to \ h hours) at a low heat. When tender, be sure that the apples are cooked very dry—no excess water. Sweeten and spice to taste. Cinnamon and nutmeg, or apple pie spice are good. Cool apples thoroughly. Make very short biscuit dough or pastry and roll dough about 1/8" thick. Cut in desired size rounds. I use a large biscuit cut­ ter for party-size pies, but a fruit dish makes a good pattern for "everyday" size pies. Place an appropriate amount of the cooked apples on one side of the circle of dough. Fold circle in half and seal well with the tines of a fork. Be sure not to use too much filling. Fry in shallow salad oil or vege­ table shortening until golden brown on both sides. Stand on folded edge to brown it and ensure doneness of the dough. Stack pies on several thick­ nesses of paper towels on a plate with towels between the layers. x These will keep 2 or 3 days at room temperature; longer, if refriger­ ated, or i f you have no hungry children about the house. Home demonstration agents were most practical. The 4-H girls of solway were taught how to can produce they raised, how to care for poultry, even how to run a house. Papaws and persimmons are good wild fruits whose flavor is improved by the first frost. Don't walk behind me, I might not lead. Don't walk ahead of me, I might not follow. Just walk beside me And be my friend. �If you give a man a fish Y o u feed him for a day; If you teach a man to fish Y o u feed him for life. Write on your hearts that every day is the best day of the year. . . . . Emerson Ice water is probably the best treat­ ment for burns, but some of us have satisfactorily used a poultice of scraped raw potato or applesauce. To clean old tin: use wood ashes on a wet rag. Many of our plants are acid-loving. Rhododendrons, azaleas, blueberry plants: all benefit from an applica­ tion of wettable sulphur which forms acid sulphate. There's a lot to be said for the good old days—for instance, at the turn of the century, the merchant used to come to the customer. About every three weeks, a wagon drawn by large horses used to make the rounds selling oil for lamps and summer stoves. A barber's life is a hard one. What young man gets a haircut more than 3 or 4 times a year any more? A n d that's just how it used to be—only in those days anyone with a pair of scis­ sors was asked to do the job. A n d may­ be no one nearby had scissors, for some young men became so unsightly that Flossie Cox, the schoolteacher at Fairview in the 1920's, kept a pair of scis­ sors in her desk and wielded them furiously during recesses. �A n ounce of Mother is worth a pound of Police. It seems reasonable that slavery cannot be a good thing, since no man wants it for himself. . . . . Lincoln It's easier when you hear it spoken, but even in print, can't you tell that when we say "rat cheer," it's plainly "right here"? A "poke" is a bag and used to be used as a loose measure of quantity. If you must spray with insecticides, always try to spray late in the evening, to save as many of the honeybees as possible. They will not be active again until the next morning. On Monday, the 16th of July, 1792, the first Knox County Court was held by James White, Samuel Newell, David Craig, and Jeremiah Jack. James White was elected chairman. Little business was transacted at this time. Roads were ordered to be laid out from Knoxville to Col. Alexander Kelley's mill, to David Draig's on Nine Mile Creek, to the ford on the Clinch River, and to Campbell's Station. Cattle production increased rapidly following the Civil War as more land was turned into improved pastures. The stock was mostly scrub stock, however, with little effort made to upgrade by breeding. A Mr. C. W. Charlton purchased a purebred Jersey bull and heifer, and being disappointed with their looks, he drove them out to range. Since the whole county was open range at this time (and until the 1890's, the bull roamed the countryside for a number of years and brought about a marked improvement in the grade of milk cows on the common range. To accept a compliment gracefully is the mark of a civilized man. �It is not unusual to be able to trace your ancestry back to 1840, but not many people can say, " M y greatgreat-grandfather settled the land right on this spot." Yet Flossie Cox can show you the farm where Beaver Creek joins the Clinch River. Here her an­ cestor, Archibald Cobb, set up an iron forge when he came here from Scot­ land and operated it and his farm until he died in 1860. A teaspoon of soda or a pinch of pow­ dered ginger should degassify boiled beans. The man who makes no mistakes usually does not make anything. Now this is one we don't guarantee, but some of the old-timers swear that an onion tied to the wrist *til it turned dark would reduce fever; and others used sliced onion heated and applied as a poultice» The building of the railroad provided not only employment for local men, but husbands for many local girls. Many of the workers who came from other areas roomed and boarded with local families and courted local lasses. When the railroad tunnel caught fire, rebuilding was necessary, even though the fire was put out. Thus, in 1905 another influx of workers came, but this time disaster struck. A small­ pox epidemic hit visitor and resident alike. Effie Miller survived the disease, as did her fiance, a young man from Sweetwater, but he was shot dead just as he finished the job when he went to collect a debt he felt was owed him. Pretty as a speckled puppy under a red wagon. A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little states­ men and philosophers and divines. . . . . Emerson �It is around a table that friends per­ ceive best the warmth of being together. FRIED GREEN TOMATOES Slice green tomatoes into halfinch slices. Dip in beaten egg and coat with cornmeal. Fry in hot bacon grease until golden brown, turning once. Drain on paper towels and season with salt and pepper. A piece of nylon stocking laid across the top of a cabbage plant will keep it free from cabbage worms. The sun can shine through, but the cabbage moth, which spirals down from above, will not fly up from underneath to lay its eggs. Oss Fox's brother once bet that he could out-pull Coon Guinn's ox. The ox was taken out of the yoke and Mr. Fox put his head in, but he lost the bet when the load wouldn't m o v e not even when Mr. Guinn applied a blacksnake whip as a helpful measure! Wood chips, well-rotted sawdust, oak leaves, and pine needles are good mulches for acid-loving plants such as rhododendrons, azaleas, or blue­ berries. A d d a handful of cotton­ seed meal around each plant before mulching to replace nitrogen which may be used up in the disintegration of the mulch material. A palatable cough remedy for children —or adults—is a spoonful of brown sugar. �This is not a book about East Tennessee, but a microcosm of the Appalachian region during a period of transition. We hoped by using stories which would be interesting for the sake of the tales themselves or typical of the times to point up the era's dependence on water transportation, the excitement of the coming of the railroad, the self-contained nature of community recreation—its buoyancy, inclusiveness and wholesomeness—the interdependence and independence of a small community and its involvement with the total of daily living. We hope, also, that you've enjoyed our regional recipes, our hints for living taken from both yesterday and tomorrow, and a few pithy comments on the human condition. Our deepest thanks to the people of the entire community for their help and enthusiasm! We've appreciated ourselves. We hope you have, too. Y'a II come back! �ABOUT THE AUTHOR R U T H S M A L L E Y was born i n C o l u m b i a County, Washington, on September 13, 1920. She received a B . A . degree i n English and graduated P h i Beta Kappa from Washington State University. Some of Smalley's major accomplishments include writing a weekly column in the Knoxville News Sentinel for nine years, publishing articles for travel magazines, and writing a series of books on A n d r e w Jackson, A n d r e w Johnson, and James K . Polk. Smalley also edited The Good Life Almanac, a project of the Solway community club, and contributed to memoirs by Samuel Sapirie and John Rice Irwin. R u t h Smalley passed away on January 19, 2009, i n Tulsa, Oklahoma. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appalachian Consortium Press Publications Description An account of the resource This collection contains digitized monographs and collections from the Appalachian Consortium Press. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Appalachian Consortium Press Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Appalachian Consortium Press Date Issued Date of formal issuance (e.g., publication) of the resource. June 1, 2017 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource <a title="Digital Scholarship and Initiatives" href="http://library.appstate.edu/services/digital-scholarship-and-initiatives" target="_blank">Digital Scholarship and Initiatives</a> Publication Digital Publisher Digital Republication Appalachian State University Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Good Life Almanac Description An account of the resource <span>Published in 1975, this is an almanac of stories gathered from the Solway, Tennessee community as a microcosm of the Appalachian region during a period of transition. Written to showcase the stories and folklore passed on in the mountains, the tales chosen are typical of the nineteenth century. Stories talk about the dependence on water transportation, the excitement of the coming railroad, the self-contained nature of community recreation, and the interdependence and independence of small community’s daily life. In addition to stories, traditional regional recipes are included in order to demonstrate further what it was like to live in the mountains.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=17MPk8mMvds0uIQJo9dWDg0lTOd3mewsO" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Download EPub<br /><br /></a><a title="UNC Press Link" href="https://www.uncpress.org/book/9781469638409/the-good-life-almanac" target="_blank" rel="noopener">UNC Press Print on Demand</a> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Smalley, Ruth Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Appalachian Consortium Press Subject The topic of the resource Almanacs, American--Tennessee Appalachian Mountains--Social life and customs Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1975 Language A language of the resource English Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF E-books Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed" target="_blank" rel="noopener">https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed</a> Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. https://www.geonames.org/4658798/solway.html Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a title="UA 76 Appalachian Consortium records" href="https://appstate-speccoll.lyrasistechnology.org/repositories/2/resources/9" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"> UA 76 Appalachian Consortium records </a> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. <a title="Appalachian Consortium Press Publications" href="https://omeka.library.appstate.edu/collections/show/82" target="_blank"> Appalachian Consortium Press Publications</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant ||||osm Solway (Tenn.) Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1970s Appalachian Folk Culture folklore food preservation foodways https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/3aeeaf308ceb052510e4cdf8e87ad22e.mp3 0b9d918f32fd32d6133a1758eb93924f https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/830a6f5fc4916a88e5a974b7ed6225dd.mp3 0a59da7c9ba4a294023e100f4787e639 https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/15afd20c10710e9d450e93672c800166.pdf dd10ff6e97edcf57fea25183a452af40 PDF Text Text Oral History Transcript Appalachian State University • Collection 111, Tape 34 Interviewee: Edward Blackburn Interviewer: Bill Ballock 2 March 1973 BB: Bill Ballock EB: Edward Blackburn OB: Ollie Blackburn BB: This is an interview for the Appalachian Oral History Project with Edward Blackburn at Todd, North Carolina, on March 2, 1973 by Bill Ballock. Tell your name and start out from there. EB: I’m Ed Blackburn and I live at Todd, North Carolina. I’ve lived here for 80 years and I’m a preacher. I have, in the past been a mail carrier, but today I’m trying to preach. Lived here in the mountains and worked with mountain people, think they’re the finest people in the world. That’s not belittling anybody else, but I appreciate and honor them. Want to be an honor to the mountains. Is that thing (the tape recorder) running now? BB: Just don’t even pay any attention to it. EB: Now, you go ahead and talk to me. BB: Okay. Can you tell me something about your childhood? EB: Yes, a little bit. I remember not too much about it. I remember many years back, born here in Ashe County and lived here, as I said once, all my life. Went to school here, what little I went, and went to the First World War. Went through the First World War through the entire was except for 14 days. Came back and lived here ever since. This has been my home ever since. All my life this has been my home. I have seen Boone when it was just a few white houses there and the streets were two feet deep of mud. If you got across the street you got across on a pile of ashes. You missed the ashes and you went in the mud to your knees. I’ve seen West Jefferson come from a house or two to a nice town. Seen the railroad come in here and helped work on it. I drove pegs for the engineers, helped work on the track and I’ve seen it come and go. BB: What about the railroad? What did you do on the railroad? EB: I helped the engineer survey it and worked on the track work. And then I helped grade it, helped grade the whole thing. Helped make it, everything but the coaches and the engines. 1 �BB: Where did it start out? EB: Where did it start from? Abingdon, Virginia. Came to Todd, 76 miles, 76 miles and so many tenths to Todd. Came in and out once a day. Stayed all night here and then went out in the morning, came back in the evening. Todd used to be a business place. Had a bank, drugstores, and how many grocery stores I’ve forgotten. Lots of numbers of people lived here. It’s just a ghost town now because all the old people are dead and all the young people have moved away. And the banks are gone, the money is gone, the timber is gone, and most of the land is gone. BB: How did people feel about the railroad here in Todd? EB: Well, they wanted it to come in you know. They didn’t know it was going to ruin us and take all our timber out and leave us nothing. We wanted it to come in. BB: So you think after it left it was bad? EB: Yes, yes. It left us in a lot worse shape. All of our timber gone and not anything to show for it. OB: It should have gone on up to Boone. EB: Sure, if it went on up to Boone it would be running today. West Jefferson over there is a thriving town and it came into West Jefferson now one or two times a week. (The railroad) hauls freight in there. No passenger trains, no mail. Used to run a passenger train in there and carried the mail. BB: It did run a passenger train? EB: Yes, oh yes. Two times a day the Lord blessing. One in the morning and one in the evening. In and out. Passenger train and freight, sometimes two freights. Loads of them, double heading out here, a number of cars loaded with timber. BB: So if you wanted to change it back, you wouldn’t let the railroad come back? EB: No. I wouldn’t work on it. In fact, I would get other people not to. That’s right, keep what we have. BB: Well, they tell me you are a preacher. Can you tell me something about how you got started in that? EB: Yes, well the Lord called me. Yes, I’m a preacher honey. Got a lovely church over here. The finest people in the country come there. I got started because the Lord called me to be a preacher. I didn’t want to be a preacher. I wanted anything in the world besides being a 2 �preacher. I really wanted to be a drunkard, and drink liquor and carouse around. But the Lord saved me. Then He called and saved me and delivered me from drinking liquor. He called me to be a preacher. And now I’m preaching and wouldn’t do anything else now. I’m not much of a preacher, but I’m the best preacher I know how to be. God bless you. BB: When did it start? EB: When did I start preaching? I started preaching in about 1922 or ’23. BB: What brought it on? Did you go to school? EB: No, never been, just went through the schoolhouses. Ran a mill, only school college I’ve ever been in. I used to run a mill in Todd and sell meal to the Boone College. That’s the only college I know anything about; selling meal. I’ve been to college anyhow selling them meal. BB: So you just took the preaching on your own? EB: Yes, thank God. On my own. Lived by it. Only way I have of getting a penny is what people give me. Nobody behind me but the Lord and that’s enough. God called me and I’ve worked with everybody that needs help. OB: He’s worked all his life and got Social Security. EB: I draw Social Security, but not enough. BB: Do you get paid for preaching? EB: Yes sir. Got a lovely congregation. Get a little, sometimes get more than others. Take an offering every morning when I preach. I just preached over here at the tabernacle two times a month, second and fourth Saturday. And somebody takes an offering for us. BB: What’s the name of the church? EB: Blackburn Memorial Church and Campground. I want you to go out and get a history of it, get you to look at it and take the history down off of the sign. BB: How did it come about that you’re preaching? How were you called? EB: Well, the Lord just called me you know. I got saved from being a drunkard and the Lord called me to be a preacher. Why, I don’t know, but He called me to be a preacher. I just went to doing things that preachers ought to do. Not like other men can, but the best I could. And God called me to be a preacher and I’ve been faithful to the job ever since. OB: He gets busier everyday about it, counseling with somebody. Some drunkard or some 3 �family having trouble. BB: What people come here? EB: Drunks, folks trying to get delivered from liquor, folks having marriage troubles, about to separate, parting, fussing and fighting. Come here day and night to be prayed with and counseled with, talked to and prayed for. Thank God. God had blessed us so far with a fruitful ministry. BB: They told me that once you got sick. Could you tell me something about that? EB: Once I was seriously sick. So sick they thought I would die you know. They sent me to the hospital against my will. They sent me to West Jefferson and the hospital at Jefferson kept me 18 or 19 days and couldn’t find what was the matter with me. And they sent me from there to Winston-Salem. When I got to Winston I was so near dead they gave me eight pints of blood. And that’s about all of it. But I stayed down there 18 or 19 days and they were going to operate on me, but I couldn’t take it. I was weak. I couldn’t stand an operation. I prayed and before the Lord and the host of heaven, God healed me and I came home the day they were supposed to operate on me. That night – the doctors and nurses came in to get me ready for an operation and I told the nurses, “God’s healed me. I’m going home. I want you to send me home today.” That excited the nurses and the doctor came in and told him that, and then he went out of the room. And several other doctors came in. They pushed me and then rolled me, then looked in my eyes, looked at my fingernails and examined my feet and had a counsel and told me I could go home. But when I got ready to come home there were a number of people there that came to set up the operation. Felt sorry for my mom you know and my children. I was getting my clothes on and getting ready to come home and I told the doctor, “I’ll never be back down here unless I come to pray for somebody.” I’ve been back twice, or three times. OB: Why don’t you tell the whole story? EB: Well, I’ve told enough of it, haven’t I? BB: I want the whole story. OB: The night you were healed, don’t you remember? EB: Yes, yes. I was praying you know, the night before the operation and a nurse came through and turned my pitcher upside down, the water pitcher, and I knew that was bad business. I was burning up and wanted water. The nurse came in and turned my water pitcher upside down, no 4 �more water for me. If I had money I would have hired somebody to pour water for me, but I didn’t have that kind of money and had to depend on the nurses and the orderlies. The nurse came through or one of the aides came through and turned my pitcher upside down and I knew that there was no more water for me. I knew what was coming. I knew that I was so weak and couldn’t take it. I was already dead. I just told God that I couldn’t take it. And sometime through the night, somebody came to by bed and called me name and said, “You don’t need an operation.” Next morning I was able to come home. Thank God. And I’ve been home ever since and I work like a slave, day and night. I haven’t ever been sick any more and I’m 80 years old this coming August. Thank God. That’s what God done for me. BB: You sure don’t look 80 years old. EB: I have been out here sawing wood. BB: My father is 50 years old and you look twice as young as he. EB: What about that? Bless your daddy honey. BB: What about the community itself? What do you think of the Todd community? EB: I think its marvelous and wonderful. One of the best anybody ever had the privilege to live in. Thank God. The best neighbors that God could set down around you. Anything you need, somebody will bring it to you and see about you. That’s what I think about it. It’s so good I nearly disgraced it by living here, that’s what kind of place it is. Marvelous. OB: Tell him how we worship. EB: Well, just like anybody else so far as I know. We go to church. OB: Well, I mean we’re all one. EB: Sure, sure. Our prayer meetings, we all worship together you know. We have a prayer meeting in the Baptist church, and we’re known as Holiness people. We go to the Baptist church and the next night they come to the tabernacle church, and the next night we go to the Methodist church. We worship all the way around. And nobody knows whether uncle Ed belongs to the Baptist church or the Methodist church. And I don’t know whether the Baptist church belongs to our tabernacle or the Baptist church. We don’t pay any attention to that, we just worship God, and get along good. It’s a marvelous community. Nobody’s got a better one. BB: As time goes on, do you think that it’s losing out, that people are getting away from each other? 5 �EB: Yes, I do believe the young people are as time goes on. Yes, I do. And the old people are dying and that cripples us some. But so many of our young people have moved off from this country see, they had to leave here to get a job. And we just get them through high school and many of them through college and they’ve got to go somewhere else to get a job you know, to work out a living. So that just leaves the young and the old folks. You know the old folks die one by one and leave. And then these other children go to college and then they get…raised. Ma’am and me raised five children, two boys and three girls. Our baby is in New Jersey, she’s a librarian. I got a boy in Virginia Beach, Virginia; he’s a printer for the United States government. He has been thee a long time, soon to retire. And I got a boy that lives at Cherryville. He drives for the Carolina Freight and he’s been there for years. We have a daughter that lives in Abingdon, Virginia. She married a builder contractor and they have a supermarket. They are building a supermarket. Our oldest daughter married a sanitary and county health officer and they live here in Ashe County. Five lovely children and all of them seem to be doing well. BB: That’s just great. It’s just beautiful out here. I don’t see why any young people would want to leave. EB: Thank you, it is beautiful. And we live in an old house. OB: I’ll tell you why the young people, our children…every one of them get so homesick to come to the mountains to live. But you see, where we made the mistake was selling every stick of timber we had here for the railroad and letting the companies come in here and carry it off, haul it off on the train out away from here. And wouldn’t let companies come in here. We could have had factories up here, all kind of furniture factories and everything if we hadn’t loved our little dirt. You see we loved the dirt better than if we loved… EB: Sure. They wanted to buy land for factories. OB: And we wouldn’t sell them land. And see that’s the reason our children now had to reap the results of it. They had to get an education and go somewhere else to get a job. BB: What do you think about somebody who would want to come out here and farm and try to preserve what you have? EB: I think it’s wonderful. I think that young people can come and live conservative and buy a farm and get rich, thank God. Say raise enough cattle to get rich. Right here in these mountains, men are doing it. I don’t. I don’t have a cow. Don’t have anything but some fish and wild ducks. That’s all the property we’ve got. I own 27 acres of land here and this old house is over 176 years old, where you’re sitting now. 6 �All handmade, all worked with hands. And there’s a door that doesn’t have a nail in it unless I put it in. The house is put together with wooden pegs. It’s been here we know for 176 years and we think several years longer. BB: Do you know who built it? EB: We think we know. We think a man by the name of “Younce,” who has been dead for many many years you know. We think he built this house here. This house and the soldiers, Northern soldiers came down and burned my grandfather’s house down. This was his workhouse where he loomed, had looms, and wove their cloth and cooked here. OB: Made their shoes. EB: The fireplace was six feet across and I filled it in. But this was just and outhouse. Northern soldiers burnt the house down out here and left our people with nothing. Took their meat and the horses, and burned a lot of their clothes. Just left my grandparents with nothing. BB: So you remember your grandparents talking about the Civil War? EB: Yes, I just barely can, the Lord bless you, just barely. OB: His mother was 11 years old. EB: Yes, when they burned the house and she’s been dead for years. BB: So they did come through this way? EB: They did come right through here and burn the nice home out here on this hill right out here. You can go out there and dig up charcoals from it right now. BB: And you’re 80 years old? EB: I’m 80 years old this coming August. BB: Okay. What do you think about politics? EB: Politics? Well, I think that we need two kinds. I think we need two good parties and I think that both sides do so sorry that I’m ashamed of both sides. I vote for one then I wish I had voted for the other because we do things. They tell us we’re not going to do one thing and the next day they do it. Then I think I ought to have voted for the other fellow. I think we need two good parties and men to be honest and upright and tell us the truth and do the best they can for us and quit lying to us. We know they can’t do all the things they tell us they’re going to do because we haven’t got enough money to do it. 7 �BB: Do you remember the first election you voted in? EB: No, I can’t remember darling. No. BB: Who was the first president that you remember? EB: Oh, I remember Teddy Roosevelt and Mr. McKinley. I remember, I was just a boy though, but I remember when the news traveled so slow you know, about killing McKinley. I remember that. BB: What did you think of Roosevelt? EB: Well, I was just a boy. Didn’t make any different to me darling. Just another man and I heard by father and mother talk about him you know. Teddy Roosevelt. BB: What about Truman? EB: Yes, I loved Harry Truman. I think he was an excellent president. He would tell you what to expect and then he did it. And if you didn’t like it he would fight you if you wanted to fight. I think he was fine. BB: What about Eisenhower? EB: I think he was great. BB: You did? You liked Eisenhower then? EB: Yes, I liked him good enough to vote for him. BB: What about Kennedy? EB: Not struck on Kennedy. I’ll not comment why, but I’m not struck on him. I didn’t give a dime if it’s on the signboards in Broadway, New York City. BB: What about Johnson? EB: I liked Mr. Johnson, thought he was a nice, fine gentleman. BB: What about Mr. Nixon? EB: I think he’s fine. I quarrel with him sometimes, cuss him sometimes for things he does and don’t do. But I think he’s going be a fine president. I think he’s doing the best he can. BB: What was World War One like? 8 �EB: It was rough, rough, rough. World War One was rough. I volunteered and went. The war was declared the 6th day of May and I enlisted in the World War the 17th day of May. I wanted to go to the war and then I went, but wanted to come home. Went to France and fought through the Meuse-Argonne Forest, Mont Saint-Michel, close to Verdun, and sector near Verdun. I saw the Hindenburg line broke where Von Hindenburg said there wasn’t enough men this side of hell to go through that line and the American soldiers went through it and tore it all to pieces and whooped their hind ends off. BB: And you were in it? You were fighting? EB: I was there. Came out of the lines on November 11th, 1918. BB: And then you went to World War Two? EB: I wasn’t in World War Two, no. BB: You were at home right? EB: I was at home, yes. BB: Were you preaching then? EB: Yes. BB: What was it like during World War Two? EB: Well, I wasn’t in it. I just knew all the men that was in it. I knew lots of the men that did go you know. But I wasn’t in it. I didn’t have any part of lot in it except to work you know. I worked in the defense plant, the most of the time during the Second World War in Coats, Pennsylvania for a steel mill. A big steel mill. BB: What about Vietnam? What about the people here at home? How do they feel about it in your community? EB: Well, I think the majority of us thought that we had it to do. That there wasn’t anything else to do is what I think. They didn’t fight as rough as I wanted them to fight. I wanted them to thrash the face out of them and get out of it. Give them a thrashing and come home, but we just played along with them and didn’t whoop them. I wanted to whoop them good and come out. BB: Are you glad that the Peace… EB: I am delighted! I want to be a peacemaker honey. That’s my business, being a peacemaker. But if I have to fight you I’m going to fight awful rough while I fight. 9 �BB: What about the Depression? EB: Yes, I lived through that. It didn’t make much difference to me because we’re kind of depressed every day anyhow. But we did get through it, but it was a hard time, the Lord bless you. It was a hard time. BB: What did you do during the Depression? EB: Well, I lived right here and raised cabbage and Irish potatoes and sent children to school, right here. BB: Do you think that it was easier for the people, the farmers than it was for the people in town? EB: Yes, I do. The man that had the farm knew how to work it and to manage. He had a better chance of surviving than the people in town because they didn’t have anything. They were just out. BB: You didn’t have any trouble getting clothes or shoes and stuff did you? EB: Oh, no. No, we had clothes, had shoes, and had plenty to eat what it was. But we didn’t have any money. BB: You wouldn’t want to see another Depression would you? EB: No, no. Never want to see another Depression. Don’t ever want to see ten-hour workdays come back. I want good wages and honest work. I do believe in a man that’s getting two dollars an hour ought to be able to put out and work for two dollars an hour. BB: I reckon that you remember the flood of 1940 too, don’t you? The flood? EB: Yes, I do. BB: I reckon as a preacher that you had right much to do? EB: Yes, I had much to do the entire time son. OB: When was the flood? EB: 1962, wasn’t the flood the one I’m thinking about here in ’62? We about washed away in this country. I think it was in…no, in 1943, wasn’t it ’43? BB: Yes, somewhere in there. Do you remember it? 10 �EB: Yes, oh yes. I had a mill down here in this little village we call Todd. And I came home and when I came around the curve coming out of Todd, there was a high place there. I turned around, looked around and told God and to myself, “This is the last time I’ll ever see Todd if it doesn’t quit raining.” And that night two or here buildings went out of Todd all together like an ark. The buildings went right down the stream all together. There was a mill there, a big mill. That mill was taken out, a store on the other side of the creek away from the water; the rain took the store just like an ark was floating down the creek. But God ceased the rain and that is the only reason that Todd didn’t wash away. OB: Right here, over there came a big crack on the hill. EB: Yes, the mountain cracked there. And had it slid off, there wouldn’t have been anything left in the village. It would have all went out; too much dirt and water. I saw that. BB: Did anyone come to your house for refuge? EB: Yes, we had company. Some of our kinfolk were here. They got caught in the storm here and had to stay here. BB: Were all of you scared? EB: No, we weren’t scared here on the hill. We thought my, lots of water, but we didn’t think it would get to us and it didn’t. BB: I was talking to Miss Trivette and she said their house almost washed away. EB: Oh, yes. All around them. BB: I reckon that was a pretty bad time. EB: Yes. Serious time, serious time. BB: Getting back to your childhood, what can you remember about it now? Was it like growing up in the mountains? EB: Marvelous, wonderful. I had a good daddy and a good mother and didn’t know what trouble was. He was a hard worker and had a good farm and made all the things we needed to live on except clothes and shoes. It was marvelous. I would love to go back and live through it again. Didn’t know what trouble was. Didn’t know we would ever see a day that we didn’t have enough. Thank God! BB: What kind of games did you play? EB: We just played what we called back in those days “Base.” We didn’t know anything about 11 �baseball and things like that. We just played Base, “Dare Base” and would run like wild men. We would see who could outrun the other and who could break the other side. If we ever made a circle around the others man’s home, we would break him up and had to start over again. If we would catch his men off a base, we would put them in jail. We would get all of his men until he was overpowered, why we broke him up again. BB: What was it called? EB: We called in “Base,” or “Dare Base.” We would have a line and dare a fellow to come put his foot on a line. Then we would take out after him and if we caught him before he got back to his base, why we would bring him and put him in a jail. But then we had to guard him and if another man left his base and came over, we could touch him. But if he touched the guy in jail before we could get to him, then he would get out. But he watched that and if we caught him, we put him in jail. That was our job. The fellows that got the most men in jail or one of our best runners made a circle around the other man’s base, that broke him up and we won the game. Just like war. He just had to surrender, that’s all. OB: Then at night, we danced in the homes. Barn dances. EB: We would have parties in the night. Play the banjo, the violin or fiddle. We danced all night, thank God! Had a good time. BB: Did you know anybody that played the fiddle? EB: They are dead now. Knew a lot of men, but they have gone to heaven now. OB: My daddy played for the parties. My granddaddy played the violin and my daddy played the banjo. BB: Would it be every night? EB: No, we couldn’t take it every night. About two nights a week. BB: Would you all be drinking moonshine? EB: Not much, sometimes. Usually wine, grape wine. Sometimes we had the real stuff…moonshine. BB: Did your dad make moonshine? EB: No sir, he was a Christian gentleman. He didn’t even drink it. My father’s brother was a 12 �Congressman. There is his picture on the wall. Served two terms in the United States Congress. And my father was against liquor. BB: What was his name? EB: E. Spencer Blackburn. Honorable E. Spencer Blackburn. BB: What was the year that he was in Congress? EB: Well, I’ve forgotten little darling boy. I was just a boy. In 1906 and 1908 I expect (Edmond Spencer Blackburn was a Republican U.S. Congressman from 1901-03 and 1905-07). You better put a question mark on that honey, because I was just a little boy. But he would visit my father often. Had a big, high silk hat and fine clothes. BB: What kin was he to you? EB: He was my uncle, my father’s brother. End of side I BB: Have you hunted and fished a lot? EB: Yes, fished a lot. Yes, it wasn’t against the law then to take a net and go into the river and catch fish by the bushel. BB: What about legends and stuff? Old folk tales and myths. Do you remember any? EB: No, not many. People used to tell us ghost tales and that would scare us nearly to death. BB: Who would tell them to you? EB: Old people. But they are all dead and gone many years ago. They would come by and tell us ghost stories you know, and we were afraid to look out of the house after the sun went down. BB: Do you remember any? EB: No, I can’t remember them. One old man lived down here on the river and a man went missing and the people never could find him. They thought he went and jumped in the river at a hole where it wasn’t frozen over. But never could find him. But then in the spring when the ice went out, the ice flow went out, why this old man down here on the river found five bones. What the doctor said was they were five bones of a man and he took them home and put the bones in the loft. He said that every night the five bones would just beat the floor all night. I’ve heard him tell that story many times. He said there was a beat on the floor. But he still had so far as I know, when he died – still had that beating on the floor. 13 �BB: Do you believe that? EB: Don’t believe a word of it, no. But I do believe that he had the bones because I heard people talk about the man disappearing. The man’s name was “Lookabill.” Something happened to his mind. A nice man, but he disappeared and never was found. That’s as close as anything that would come to a ghost story. But that’s just to me a folktale. I know nothing about that, only what was told. BB: Do you remember any old sayings? EB: No, I’ve forgotten them all. We used to have many of them. And they were all so good that they ought to have been remembered. BB: You ought to have written them down. EB: Yes, by all means. BB: If there was anything that you could change back, what would you change that’s now gone? EB: Well, if there was anything that I could change back I would have gone into preaching when I was 14 years old. And I went into the First World War without ever being a Christian. God wanted me to be a preacher when I was 14 years old, but I wanted to drink liquor and I put off preaching until I was about 22 years old. I would change that. BB: Is there anything that you would change in the community? EB: No, I doubt it. Just let her roll, just like it did. BB: Is there anything else you want to tell me? EB: Bless you. I don’t know much more little lad. The Lord blesses you. I never thought about anybody coming to talk to me about things like this because there are so many men that can tell you so much more than I could tell you. But there is nobody in this country much older than I am. BB: They say you are the oldest around? EB: I don’t know any men that are older than I am. I know one lady down here. No, not in this vicinity, I don’t know of any man that’s older than me. BB: And this is your mother? OB: This is my wife and she’s 81 years old. 14 �BB: What’s her name? EB: Ollie Blackburn. OB: I was Ollie Clawson. EB: She was a Clawson. OB: I waited through the war to marry him. EB: We were supposed to get married anytime, but I went to the war and left her here you know. BB: Were you raised here in Todd too? OB: No, I was raised in Watauga County. BB: In Watauga County? OB: Yes, this is Ashe County. EB: Yes, here we are across the line about a hundred feet. When you came up that road you were in Watauga; when you turned in to our house, why you are in Ashe County. BB: So you all live in Ashe County? EB: Just across the line. We pay our taxes on the Ashe side. BB: What was your childhood like? Did your mother teach you how to crochet and all? OB: She taught me how to sew and I sewed and made all my children’s clothes. During the Depression we had some pretty well to do folks and they gave us second hand clothes and I made them over for my children. Some of them got the prize for being the best-dressed in school there. EB: Out of second handed clothes. BB: During the Depression they got the best-dressed? EB: Yes, I guess it was during the Depression. They went to school well-dressed by ma working over old clothes, redoing them. BB: How long have you two been married? 15 �EB: Going on 54 years. We had a 50th anniversary three years ago this June. So this June we will have been married 54 years. BB: Have they all been good years? EB: All have been wonderful. Thank God, I would like to live them all over. Been good years. Ma’s been a darling. BB: How many grandchildren do you have? EB: Fourteen. BB: I bet you have a big Christmas don’t you? EB: Yes. Fourteen. And two great-grandchildren. BB: Do they all usually get home for Christmas? EB: Yes, usually. BB: What’s the difference in Christmas when you were small and Christmas now? EB: Oh, so much difference. When I was small if we got two sticks of candy and an orange we were well fixed. BB: Do you remember any great presents that you once got during Christmas? EB: No. I got a toy truck; as far back as I can remember and thought that was the greatest thing that could be delivered to anybody. OB: Tell him about your pistol. EB: Yes, I used to have a little gun when I was six years old. Lots of folks won’t let boys have pistols and I had a gun. I think this is the same one if I can find it here. OB: I guess it’s gone. EB: I had one like this when I was just a boy and I’d hunt with it you know. I would shoot grouse and rabbits when I was six years old. BB: So it’s a real pistol? EB: Oh, it’s a real .22 pistol. Break it down. That’s a real gun. Dangerous, it would kill you. Single barrel, a Stevens. 16 �BB: Do you still hunt? EB: I still hunt. BB: Do you still hunt with this? EB: No. I carry an automatic shotgun. BB: What do you think about the tourists? EB: Well, I think that they have ruined the mountains, is what I think of them. We can’t go anywhere and get anywhere but they do bring in some money but we were living well before they came. That’s not belittling them; that’s just what I think about them. BB: So you think that Beech Mountain and Sugar Mountain… EB: Yes. I think its hurt the morale of the country. I do. And that’s just what I think. That’s my personal opinion. BB: Well, I agree with you. EB: Yes. I think its hurt the morale of the country. I do. And that’s just what I think. That’s my personal opinion. BB: Well, I agree with you. EB: Thank you dear. Bless you darling. Just about ruined us. BB: I hate to see the mountains torn down too. I think it’s real sad. EB: Thank you honey. BB: Is there anything that you want to tell me? Just anything that you would want somebody to know about you as a man? EB: No, I didn’t do well enough to want anybody to know anything about me darling. BB: I think you being a preacher… EB: I’ve done my best on that line. But we got many preachers. BB: Do you baptize? EB: I do. Baptize and marry folks. 17 �BB: You have a license to marry? EB: I do have a license to marry, yes. And to baptize and to establish churches. BB: What was your education? You got as far as… EB: Oh, I wouldn’t know. I just…it pushed me to get through the seventh grade I guess. We just had three months of school you know, when I went to school. Always commenced in September and would be out by Christmas. And we had to walk three miles. We have to walk three miles when I went to school most of the time. BB: So you got about as far as the seventh grade? EB: Yes, I guess it pushed me to go through the seventh grade. BB: Learn enough just to read and write? EB: I can read and write. And I can… OB: Figure (mathematics). BB: I would like to come down to your church sometime. EB: Well, you ought to come darling. You ought to come. You ought to bring some friends. I want you to go up by and look it over darling before you leave here this evening. Open the door, it will not be locked. Just open the door and go in and look around. What God has done. BB: How long has that church been there? EB: Well, this one has not been there that long…I guess 38 or 40 years. That right ma? About 38 years. BB: Is this your first church? EB: Yes, but the first church was burned down over there. BB: I know a good question. Do you remember the first time you preached? The very first time that you preached? EB: No. I don’t remember the first time I ever got up and took a text and preached from it. But for years before I ever went out into the ministry, before I was ordained I would hold funerals you know. So many people would send for Uncle Ed you know, to come and hold funerals. But I can’t remember the first time. 18 �BB: What were the funerals like? EB: Well, they haven’t changed much. They have gotten finer, but the same mode and the same lines. When I was growing up we didn’t know anything about undertakers in the mountains here. Just neighbors, dress people and made their caskets and put them in the ground. BB: When was the first time that you can remember that you preached? EB: I can’t remember. Can’t remember the first time that I ever was called to a funeral. Wish I could. I would like to try and recall the feeling, but I can’t remember to save my life. I’ve had hundreds of them. BB: It wasn’t a good feeling I guess. EB: Wasn’t so good. I was scared. Still am. BB: Are you still scared? EB: Still scared. Scared to death. BB: Do you preach from a text or do you just get up and talk? EB: I preach right out of a book. Never write down a note or take a note and just read by chapter – what I’m going to preach from and go to preaching. If there is one certain verse in it that I want to dwell on and talk about, I pick out such and such verse in such and such chapter and tell my people all I know about it. BB: Do you all have Sunday school? EB: We do have Sunday school every Sunday. One of the finest in the county. BB: What time does preaching start? EB: Eleven o’clock. Every second and fourth Sunday. BB: So you only have preaching the second and fourth Sunday? Why is that? EB: Well, because we found it’s the best. And because my people are not… OB: Well, he preaches in other places. EB: Yes, I’m gone a lot of the time and that gives me a chance to preach here twice a month and go somewhere else two times. 19 �BB: Oh, so you go other places? EB: I go to other places. BB: Where do you usually go? EB: Well, the last meeting I was in was at High Point. Evangelical Methodist in High Point. And next to that one, I go anywhere they call for me…anywhere from Ohio to Pennsylvania. BB: You’ve been up to Pennsylvania? EB: Yes sure, give two meetings in Pennsylvania and two meetings in the city of Baltimore. BB: Well, thanks a lot. EB: Honey, have I been any help to you? BB: I think you have. EB: Have you? Do you? God bless you. (Gives a prayer) “Father in heaven, here’s a lovely, pretty boy. I’d give a billion dollars, God, if I could be like him. But it’s gone from us God. And now Lord we pray that as long as he lives let him remember the two old people, the Blackburn’s on the hill. Came in to have an interview with them and we wasn’t wise enough to give him much of an interview. After he leaves we’ll think of many things that happened to us that might have been amusing to him. I pray you will take good care of this little boy God, and make his successful in the world. Help him to be a Christian gentleman. Because if he gains the whole world and loses his soul, what would he give for that pearl of great price, which is his soul. Take good care of the little boy. In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen and amen. Bless you darling. You’re lovely.” End of interview 20 � https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/4615ce05bbb84565ef0b344f0a035eb4.jpg 817b249715bed6fffbc7216c9a3995e5 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 244 Height 293 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/7cdc319b184689f75ef7c4c69e5fbddc.jpg de048c4d6d65cd672c31b574af86b508 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 235 Height 278 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appalachian Oral History Project Interviews Description An account of the resource In 1973, representatives from Appalachian State University (ASU) began the process of collecting interviews from Watauga, Avery, Ashe, and Caldwell county citizens to learn about their respective lives and gather stories. From the outset of the project, the interviewers knew that they were reaching out to the “last generation of Appalachian residents to reach maturity before the advent of radio, the last generation to maintain an oral tradition.” The goal was to create a wealth of data for historians, folklorists, musicians, sociologists, and anthropologists interested in the Appalachian Region. The project was known as the “Appalachian Oral History Project” (AOHP), and developed in a consortium with Alice Lloyd College and Lees Junior College (now Hazard County Community College) both in Kentucky, Emory and Henry College in Virginia, and ASU. Predominately funded through the National Endowment for the Humanities, the four schools by 1977 had amassed approximately 3,000 interviews. Each institution had its own director and staff. Most of the interviewers were students. Outgrowths of the project included the Mountain Memories newsletter that shared the stories collected, an advisory council, a Union Catalog, photographs collected, transcripts on microfilm, and the book Our Appalachia. Out of the 3,000 interviews between the three schools, only 663 transcripts were selected to be microfilmed. In 1978, two reels of microfilm were made available with 96 transcripts contributed by ASU. An annotated index referred to as The Appalachian Oral History Project Union Catalog was created to accompany the microfilm. The catalog is broken down into five sections starting with a subject topic index such as Civilian Conservation Corps, Coal Camps, Churches, etc. The next four sections introduced the interviewees by respective school. There was an attempt to include basic biographic information such as date of birth, location, interviewer name, length of interview, and subjects discussed. However, this information was not always consistent per school. This online project features clips from the interviews, complete transcripts, and photographs. The quality and consistency of the interviews vary due to the fact that they were done largely by students. Most of the photos are missing dates and identifying information. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Collection 111. Appalachian Oral History Project Records, 1965-1989 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1965-1989 Sound A resource whose content is primarily intended to be rendered as audio. Artist Blackburn, Edward (interviewee) Ballock, Bill (interviewer) Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:04, Reflects on Todd and Ashe County, 00:32, World War One Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Edward Blackburn, March 2, 1973 Subject The topic of the resource Blackburn, Edward (1893-)--Interviews Todd (N.C.)--History--20th century Todd (N.C.)--Social life and customs--20th century Clergy--North Carolina--Todd--Biography Railroads--North Carolina--Todd--History--20th century Lumber trade--North Carolina--Todd--History--20th century Description An account of the resource Edward Eugene Blackburn was born on August 29, 1893 to Alex (b. 1852 – d. June 1, 1926) and Rhoda Howell Blackburn (b. February 12, 1856 – d. December 6, 1934). He was married to Ollie Clawson Blackburn (b. July 29, 1893 – d. June 1985). He grew up in the Todd community of Ashe County and served in the U.S. Army during the First World War with the 318th Field Hospital of the 80th Division. He experienced combat in France, which is briefly mentioned in the interview. Many affectionately knew him as “Brother Ed” or “Uncle .” The Reverend Ed Blackburn and his wife took over the leadership of The Tabernacle, a non-­‐denominational Holiness church across the hill from his childhood home. This church later became the Blackburn Community Church, was originally started by his father around 1910. His uncle was U.S. Congressman Edmond Spencer Blackburn (b. September 22, 1868 – d. July 21, 1912) who served in 1901-03 and 1905-­07. During the interview Ed Blackburn talks about growing up in rural Ashe County. Topics include explaining the rules to a game called “dare base,” and his experience working at a grist meal and laying railroad track as a young man. He also discusses the railroad in Todd, timber stripping, religion, and family. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a title="Appalachian Oral History Project Interviews, 1965-1989" href="https://appstate-speccoll.lyrasistechnology.org/repositories/2/resources/195" target="_blank">Appalachian Oral History Project Interviews, 1965-1989</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2-Mar-73 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Copyright for the interviews on the Appalachian State University Oral History Collection site is held by Appalachian State University. The interviews are available for free personal, non-commercial, and educational use, provided that proper citation is used (e.g. Appalachian State Collection 111. Appalachian Oral History Project Records, 1965-1989, W.L. Eury Appalachian Collection, Special Collections, Appalachian State University, Boone, NC). Any commercial use of the materials, without the written permission of the Appalachian State University, is strictly prohibited. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource MP3 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 20 pages Language A language of the resource English English Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Document Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant <kml xmlns="http://earth.google.com/kml/2.0"><Folder><name>OpenLayers export</name><description>Exported on Thu Oct 24 2013 13:40:14 GMT-0400 (Eastern Standard Time)</description></Folder></kml>||||osm Todd (N.C.) Ashe County childhood games Civil War folklore ministry railroad religion timber Todd Watauga County N.C. West Jefferson World War One https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/11d2a7d693590e36fc8e3964164d2bda.mp3 d5fc2a65acdc244f09c9aa240c17ab22 https://omeka-test.library.appstate.edu/files/original/5529024b8af3927f0db09abbf5db45ec.pdf 1ff1ba879a7ad11aa89876d06d82abc2 PDF Text Text Oral History Transcript Appalachian State University • Collection 111, Tape 26/27 Interviewee: Bill Brinkley Interviewer: Lester Harmon 1973 February 8 Introduction Snow is falling outside and we have just settled down in the Brinkley home after a delicious dinner. Bill’s home with his wife Rosemary reflects his love for people and nature. Family portraits flank the walls. Bill, over six feet tall, is a very stalwart man. His hands tell the story of a life of hard work, and his eyes speak to you in an honest, cheerful way. He is very attentive to my questioning and is very interested in our oral history project. A very congenial and intelligent man, Bill has lived in Elk Park all of his life and runs a hardware store there. He has much to offer about the Elk Park and Avery County area and is very genuine and entertaining in is delivery. This is an interview with Bill Brinkley in Elk Park, North Carolina on February 8, 1973 for the Appalachian Oral History Project by Lester Harmon. LH: Lester Harmon BB: Bill Brinkley Pam: Pam ?? Mrs. Brinkley: Mrs. Brinkley LH: Would you give us the name and the birthplace of your parents and the number and names of your brothers and sister and their ages? BB: My father was D.G. Brinkley, and he was born in Grassy Creek, which is near Spruce Pine. He was born about 1885. My mother was a Carroll. She was born in Chester, South Carolina about 1888 or 1889. My oldest brother lives in California named Edwin who is about 70 years of age. My father was 91 when he died and he’s been dead about two years. My mother is still living; she’s 88 and living in Florida with my sister. There were six children; the eldest was Edwin. My oldest sister is about 65 and she lives in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. My next brother is about 63 and lives in Los Angeles, California. The next child in line is another sister who is 60 years old; she lives in Los Angeles. Then my brother and myself are twins. We’re 56, born in 1917 in two different months – June and July. LH: Is there a story behind that? BB: We were actually born in June, but at that time of course the roads were very bad, and 1 �there was not much transportation. The doctor that brought us in, when he listed our birth in the courthouse in Newland, why, he must have gone over in August. He said, “Well, they were born the 27th of the last month.” So I have two birthdays. That’s the reason I get so many presents! LH: When did you come to Elk Park? BB: I was born here. LH: Can you talk a little bit about what life was like as a child? Did you live on a farm and grow your own food? Do you remember any scarce periods? LH: Well, as a child no. That was before the Depression. My father was a merchant, and we did raise right much food that we ate, but that was customary with everybody in this section, of course. I had a very good childhood. I had my twin brother, always had someone to play with, of course. So, as I remember, I had a very happy childhood. We didn’t realize any Depression until about 1929-30. It was about 1929 when the Depression started. It wasn’t too bad in this mountain area because people, most everyone had land, and they did raise most of their food. Maybe not a big variety, but a sufficient amount of food. Our worst period was between 1929-33. At that time, there was scarcely any money, and of course, we had very little clothing, except about one change, and that was it. But by 1935, we had about come out of the Depression, this whole area really. Although the WPA lasted until about almost up until World War Two started. The lady next door to us, she was a great hand at canning, especially peaches. She had several hundred cans of peaches, and she canned them all in usually ½ gallon jars, fruit jars, or quart fruit jars. She dated them all, and she had some that were 14-15 years old. She didn’t have any children, so it was just her and her husband and she canned peaches every year, no matter what. I’m sure when they both died; they still had some peaches in that basement. Pam: Would you tell him about the Sunday suit you had? BB: Well, the first suits we got were about 1933 or 1934; we each got a suit of clothes. My brother and I put it on to go to Sunday school. We got up the road a ways, at the time we lived across the street from here, and we looked at each other. One, I don’t remember which, but one called the other one and said, “Well, you look like a Philadelphia layer.” We just turned around and came back in, and took the suit off. We put on our overalls and went to Sunday school. That same suit after I had it just a short while. I was playing on Sunday, and it got warm, so I took it off and laid it across this fence and forgot it. Of course, we didn’t remember it, because we didn’t wear the suit except on Sundays, and it was on a Sunday when I took the thing off and hung it on the fence. 2 �The following Sunday, I couldn’t find the suit. I couldn’t remember where in the world that coat was, and it was during a rainy period. Oh, two or three weeks later, I happened to look up where we played that Sunday, just glanced up that way, and I saw the coat hanging on the fence. And of course it was ruined, so I didn’t have another suit until about 1937, somewhere along there. But, as I say, by that time, the Depression was over with as far as we were concerned, and most people in this section. I really don’t think the mountain people felt the Depression nearly as hard as the people in this section. We have been classified as a poverty area along with the Kentucky group and so on, but in my opinion, Avery County is really not a poverty stricken country, never has been. LH: You were saying that you were living here at the start of the Depression, and were all the kids in the family here, or did any of them leave home during the Depression, or did they leave home because of the Depression? BB: No, my two eldest brothers left during the Depression, but not because of it. They went west to seek their fortunes, and they’re still out there, living in California. But it wasn’t the Depression that made them leave. The oldest one I think left before the Depression even started. LH: Your father and your mother, did the Depression have a big effect on their jobs, or did they change the jobs during the Depression, or were you working during the Depression at all anywhere? BB: Well, my father had a store and of course my mother never worked. I graduated from high school in 1934 at the age of 16, and I went to work in that store soon as we were out of high school. Of course the Depression was practically over then, well it wasn’t over, but times were certainly better by 1934. But we didn’t have enough money to go to college, and we did have to go to work. LH: You’re talking now a little bit about school. Can you tell me if your parents went to high school or if they went to college? Tell me about your brothers, sisters, and about your school life and some of the teachers or schoolmates that you had and how the schools have changed around here in Avery County and Elk Park since you were there? BB: My father went to college two years at N.C. State. My brother went to Davidson, my oldest brother. He was going to be a minister but he changed his mind on that. None of the other children ever went to college. LH: Do you remember anything about how the schools were when you were in grammar school and some of the good times that you had and what the schools were like then? BB: Well, I remember of course, the first day that I ever went to school and remember my first teacher. Her name was Miss Bean. Back then it wasn’t the first grade, your first grade was called the “Primer,” and that was because of a book that you had was named The Primer. That’s 3 �why you never went to the first grade, you went to the Primer. Then you went to the second grade. The schools were very good, but by the time we were in fourth grade, they combined two grades, the fourth and the fifth. We had the same teacher for the fourth grade and the fifth in the same classroom. She’d teach the fourth half a day and the fifth grade half a day, and the other half of course was supposed to study. Then, that grammar school was here in Elk Park, and in the sixth grade we were transferred to the high school building. It started, you weren’t in high school, but the sixth grade was taught in the high school, and the seventh grade, and then your freshman year in high school started in the eighth grade, and of course we only had four years of high school, so you were out at the eleventh grade. LH: You graduated from Cranberry School? BB: Yes, Cranberry High School. LH: The building looks a lot like the one that my dad went to school in. I think he’s 59 now, but he graduated from a school that looked a whole lot like the Cranberry School out here. BB: Well, we had very good teachers in high school, I thought, and I still think so – looking back. We had an excellent English teacher. If I learned all that she tried to teach us, I would know a lot more English I’m sure. But her primary interest thought as in literature rather than English grammar. But she was an excellent teacher, and I had her for four straight years. But she was very hard, and a lot of students tried to get another teacher if they possibly could. So her classes were never too large; really we learned more in her class, I thought, than the other ones that went to the English teacher. LH: You say that when you got out of high school, you and Bob went to work at the store. After the store, what did you do? Or have you stayed with the store up to now? BB: I’ve never done anything else other than extra things that I’ve gotten into, but primarily I have never left the store. LH: How has the store changed since back then? A whole lot? BB: Of course we started in an old building, but we built a new store that we’re in now. We built in 1940, just before World War Two started, and since that time, I built on it in 1957, built an addition on the east end and built the post office on the west end. But the building is really comparatively new although it was, part of it was built in 1940, but it’s a solid brick building. The old store was a wooden structure, very commonplace with what you would think of as an old country store. 4 �LH: Wasn’t it a good grocery store then? BB: We had general merchandise. We had groceries, dry goods, shoes, a little hardware, practically anything you would want. LH: It’s mainly hardware now, isn’t it? BB: Yes. LH: What kind of churches were in the Elk Park area or in the Avery County area then? What was the main denomination of most of the people around here? What were the churches like and how much have they changed since then? BB: They haven’t changed a great lot. I’m Methodist, my father was Methodist, and my mother was Baptist, but we all went to the Methodist Church, and it’s the same church we’re going to today. Of course the first church burned; then it was rebuilt and remodeled. The Baptist Church, of course they have done quite a bit of remodeling on it, but it’s in the same place and primarily the same church as when I was a boy. And the Christian Church here was an old wooden structure when I was a boy; it was torn down and has been a new church built since that time, but the church – the Christian Church is approximately 65 years old. The first structure is primarily the same because it was a brick building, and it burned, and it just burned the inside out and the roof off of it. It was built back just like it was except a little more modern. LH: Did a lot of people pitch in and help build the church, a lot of community people? BB: Yes, it was built and rebuilt entirely by people, by members of the Methodist Church and some of the friends of Methodists from Memphis. There was no outside help at all except from the Memphis Conference did, I think – maybe gave us 1,000 dollars, something like that. The church burned about 1952 and cost about 20,000 dollars to rebuild. LH: Is that Elk Park Methodist Church (pointing)? BB: Yes. LH: How did Elk Park get its name? Do you know? BB: Well, I’ve asked that question to many an old timer and I don’t believe any of them really ever knew. But the only tale that I have ever heard was that they claimed that the elk, which was the deer of course, because we had no elk, never had, but the deer well, this was one of their stopping places. You know deer migrate and they usually run within a certain area, and they were supposed to have had a place here that they stayed for a time, and that’s why they named it Elk River. 5 �I really don’t know whether the deer had anything to do with the naming of all this Elk and Banner Elk. I do know that Banner Elk was named particularly from, mainly from the fact that it was – everyone that lived there practically were Banners; they settled the town. But Elk Park at the turn of the century was the hub of this whole section. The railroad came here. Elk Park was about three times as large as it is now. They had the railroad, which was narrow gauge of course, coming to the Cranberry mines, which was mining iron ore. The town had a depot, had three hotels, it had a bank, had a sawmill. It had three livery stables. A livery stable is where people went to rent a horse and a buggy or a horse. There were three large ones so everybody came into this area stayed in Elk Park, and the community grew out of here to the various other places in the area. Salesmen and so on came from Johnson City from wholesale places that came up here selling goods. They all rode that train to Elk Park. LH: What train was that? BB: Tweetsie. LH: Tweetsie, that’s in Boone now right? BB: That’s right. Narrow gauge and it ran to Boone, but we had a flood in 1940, either 1940 or ’41 and the flood washed the railroad out, practically all of it out from Cranberry to Boone. And it was beginning to be a losing proposition, so they were allowed to not build it back. Got certain laws and regulations about busses and trains; you can’t just stop them whether you lose money or not. You’ve got to carry on. So they came on the Cranberry for a number of years until 1950. I believe the last run that Tweetsie made was about 1952, and they were allowed to cut the railroad out. Of course it was really more expensive to get anything in on the railroad by that time than it was by truck, because it being a narrow gauge, everything had to be transferred. It came by rail, and it was transferred to Johnson City to this narrow gauge train. We sold sheet rock and bought it by the carload out of New York and it costs us less freight to get it from New York to Elizabethton or Johnson City than it did by rail from Johnson City on up here, which is only 30 miles away. Of course the mines were operating too at that time. LH: Mines around here? BB: The Cranberry iron ore mines that was only two miles from here. One of the biggest belts of ore in this selection known anywhere, magnetized ore that is. It is magnetized, but it’s a low grade, and that’s why they are operating. The cost is no greater to get out; in fact, it’s less because granite is so strong. 6 �They didn’t have timber in any of the mines; they just left a pillar of granite every so often. They didn’t have to timber the mine with wood, so it wasn’t any more expensive to get out but the grade was so low, the ore grades were so low that it got to where it wasn’t profitable to operate. Some of the mines closed sown about 1930, somewhere long then. LH: How did Elk Park start? I mean, who first settled here and was it because of mining that the town got started? BB: No I think…deer hunting, elk hunting. I don’t know where he went (telling a story of a local old timer), maybe to Montana or somewhere northwest, and he was telling this group of people when he got back about what all he had seen, how it was way out west, what a big country it was and said, “The forest was so thick,” he said, “You can’t even walk through them, the trees were so close together.” And he said, “Elk,” he said, “You’ve never seen such elk. They had horns this large” (used his hands as wide as he could spread them). Finally somebody stopped him in the middle of the story, and they laughed and said, “If the elk had horns that big, how did they get through those trees that were so close together?” This gentleman didn’t even slow down on his story, he just looked at the man and said, “That’s their story.” This was typical of the type of stories that he told, and I guess if somebody kept a record of all of them, it would really had been a best seller. He certainly was surely full of them. Oh, he told another story about hunting. He was a great hunter and said he saw twelve turkeys sitting on a limb and he said, “I checked my gun and only had one cartridge. I jerked up my gun and got all twelve of those turkeys.” Somebody said, “Well, how in the world (laughing) did you get all those turkeys with just one shell?” He said, “Well, I’ll tell you. I shot and split the limb and when the limb went together caught all the turkeys’ toes and held them there until I got up and killed them.” But he was full of stories. We have had lots of characters like that. LH: How about some of the community leaders or decision makers, like the rulers of the town and everything over the years? BB: Well, I have been mayor of Elk Park myself and an Alderman two or three times. I had the distinction of running for mayor against the only woman that ever ran for mayor. Of course she campaigned like everything and I didn’t campaign, but I still won. She is to my knowledge, the only woman who ever ran for mayor of the town of Elk Park. LH: How long ago was that? BB: That was in 1939 or ’40, about then. We’ve had some good men, had a Harmon by the way, good community leader. He taught Sunday school and taught the men’s class for about 15 or 18 years in the Methodist church. I was superintendent at the time, the superintendent for 17 years, of the Sunday school up until the time I went into the army in fact. But Mr. Harmon, he became a U.S. Marshall under the Eisenhower administration, and he had some sort of illness 7 �and died. He wasn’t too old of a man when he died, but he had left Elk Park of course when he became a U.S. Marshall and moved to Asheville. LH: You have said that Elk Park used to be bigger than it is now. Has the population decreased that much, or just the general size? BB: Well, Avery County has grown less in population until the last three or four years. Now, what happened there was, of course, a lack of jobs, and a lot of people who moved away to get these jobs during the war, stayed so the population went down from 14,000 to 10,000 at one time, and it was because of lack of jobs. There was no industry to amount to anything for a number of years, the mines had closed. After the war, they started coming back a little bit, but not too much, but then “tourism” has done more to increase the population – to get the population back to closer to the point where it was, than anything else. People who are retired want to come to the mountains to lived because they know this I the finest place on earth. A lot of people like to come here and there’s been a good deal of the land that’s been sold to outsiders who want to come here, and will be here for the rest of their lives. LH: Has the tourist industry had, in your opinion, a bad effect on the natural beauty of the mountains around? I know like Beech Mountain and some of the bigger places used to be, well nothing there and a lot of people feel like it has done more harm than good. I was wondering how you feel about that? BB: Well, of course there are several thoughts on that. The county as a whole felt like tourism was the only way out of growing. Naturally they wanted to grow and they hated to see the population decreased. So they tried to make it as attractive as possible for the tourists. But it was slow coming for the simple reason there were no accommodations and so people didn’t come because of that. And then on the other hand, people are afraid to build accommodations because the tourists aren’t coming. But it made a vicious cycle out of it. These resort areas such as Beech Mountain and Sugar, ski places, some people resent them because for one thing, it has made land go sky-high, and it’s gotten where it’s hard to even buy a piece of land in Avery County unless you pay what I would say, an exorbitant price for it. Really, in that respect it’s (tourist industry) hurt. Of course, there’s not, well, there a few fairly big landholders in the county, but the land isn’t for sale. Meade Corporation owns about 4,500 acres and they sell it sometimes. They are the biggest owners. LH: Who is that? BB: Meade Corporation – they are a paper company of course, and they recently sold 40,000 acres in Jackson County. That’s been a big, well, quite a bit in the paper about that because they didn’t sell it to the Forest Service, but they offered it to the Forest Service and they said they would like to have it but they didn’t have the money. Then Meade was ready to sell and 8 �these developers from Florida bought it and gave them five million (dollars) for it. And now, of course everybody over there’s hollering that they really didn’t give the government a chance to buy it – that’s neither here nor there, I don’t know how much truth there is to it, but I do know from personal experience that the government is tied up in too much red tape when it comes to something that they would like to have, that they don’t do anything about it until it’s too late. I had 500 acres in the middle of crops that they owned all around and they wanted to buy it. They never did buy it, and finally I sold it to another party. So, I expect that’s about what happened to Meade. BB: At the beginning of the Depression, for this area, when the government decided – I don’t know; they had been giving help elsewhere, but the way it was started here, the help situation from the government, they have you a little piece of paper that said that you were entitled to so much food money and you took that to the store. We took it just like it was a five dollar bill. For instance, this allowed you to buy that much food, or whatever it said. And of course the amount was given accordingly to the number in the family. Now this was a monthly thing. LH: Rations? BB: No, it was – I forget what they called it, but anyway – it was the largest amount that I can remember anybody getting was one man that had 13 children, he got $21 per month. He spent half of that for tobacco and snuff, his wife dipped snuff and he chewed tobacco. And he spent the rest of it for essentials that they could not raise. And they existed on it; nobody actually thought they were poor, poverty stricken, or anything else. So it just shows you that really – well, there was no great need for money. That man raised practically everything that they are, with few exceptions, but that $21 helped out with him using half of it for snuff and tobacco! LH: How many were in the family again? BB: Thirteen! He had 11 children plus himself and his wife. Then at a later date, I knew a man that had 19 children and he and his wife, and he was never on welfare and never had a job. He pulled moss, dug herbs, and that sort of stuff for a living and yet he raised 19 children. LH: You said welfare – are you talking about the… BB: I’m talking about a later date, such as when the welfare program started after the war. What we called the welfare program that started after World War Two. And this man was never on welfare, and yet he never had a job working for anybody unless he just wanted to. He made his living out of…well, off the land. Mrs. Brinkley: Did they pick Galax? BB: Yes, Galax and moss and dug ginseng and crabapple roots and so on. Ginseng is a root 9 �that’s very valuable, even to this day. The Chinese use it extensively for medical reasons of some reason or other, but that’s where it was all sent from, but it’s always brought anywhere from $15 to $40 per pound, and of course it’s very scare. But I had known people that found patches of it where they’ve gotten out 800-900 pounds and made themselves quite a bit of money. But that hasn’t happened but very few times. LH: Do you remember the change in the schools or the churches or the country stores around? Do you remember any great changes in those during the Depression? Working in the store (Brinkley Hardware Store), you probably saw some changes in the store there? BB: Well, I don’t quite know what you mean by change. We saw, naturally business get better as people got more money, and as the Depression ended. Of course, the war naturally created – between the WPA and the war – they created many more jobs and there was money around. So, the volume of business gained constantly. Pam: What about the packaging in the store? How has that changed? BB: Well now, that’s changed completely in my day. When I first started working in the store nothing was packaged. Sugar came in 100 pound bags and we poured it in a barrel. People never bought more than five pounds, something like that. Most people bought a quarter’s worth, which was about five cents per pound. You had to weigh it out on a scale and tie it up in a bag. Lard or shortening came in a 100 pound drum. You opened the top of it and there was a little paddle that you took, you put the lard in a tray and sold whatever the amount they wanted from a nickel to 50 cents worth. Flour was not sold in anything less than 25 pound bags. Meal was not sold in anything less than 25 pound bags. Self-rising was unheard of. Peanut butter came in a 25 pound can; you sold it similar to lard, in a little wax tray. Bologna didn’t have to be refrigerated; you had no refrigeration to start with. Rather it came in a white cloth sack and it would keep, we hung it from the ceiling. Bananas we bought by the stalk. Sold two, three, or four – they wouldn’t ask you for pounds. They would say give me five bananas or a half dozen bananas, or whatever. Pam: Do you want to tell him about the time when you stuffed your banana – was it a banana? BB: It was a banana yes, that’s a – I don’t know whether it’ll help his story or not. I was – that was before I was out of school of course, and my daddy had the store and we would go in there in the afternoons and try to steal us a little piece of candy or something. We didn’t have to steal it, he was very liberal – he would let us have it, but you would ask and he’d say how much you could have. So we got in this stalk of bananas, which was very unusually in that day and time. The stalk was as green as a gourd. But we wanted one so badly, he finally let us have one and I decided that I’d get me another one, and I didn’t ask for it. About that time I got it about half eaten, my daddy came around the counter. I just stuck all of it in my mouth and swallowed it, 10 �and that night I nearly died of a stomach ache. But, we finally had oranges and that sort of stuff at Christmastime – in the store. There was really nothing packaged. LH: Did you have the pickle barrel and the cracker barrel? BB: Had a pickle barrel, pigs feet – pickled pigs feet. Sold fish from a big barrel, salted fish that you could keep from now on. People had to take them home and soak them all night, and they usually ate them for breakfast. By the way, the main reason for that is they had to soak that salt out of them before they could eat them. They would soak the fish during the night and it was just a breakfast food to the mountain people at that time. Nuts, we never sold any nuts except at Christmastime. Oranges, tangerines, and all that – just Christmastime. Saw very few toys and we had a tin can for a car – played around with the bank and make a road out of it with a tin can, an empty tin can. Pam: What about buckeyes? BB: Buckeyes were very similar I appearance to a chestnut, except much larger. And a lot of people had the superstition that to carry a buckeye was lucky. This one boy was very superstitious. He carried a buckeye for about 20 years that I know of. But, he got in trouble one time, and he was telling the story later, he said, “I promised the great Lord and this buckeye that if I get out of this, I’ll never do it again!” You were talking about calamities…I guess the biggest calamity that ever hit this section of the country was the blight of the chestnut trees. I don’t know really what extent it was here, but I think the chestnut tree was about the majority of the types of trees all through the Appalachian area, probably and maybe all the way to the West Coast, I don’t know. LH: A lot of barns were built from wormy chestnut weren’t they? BB: That’s right. And now its worth anywhere from 1,000 dollars to 1,200 per thousand board feet. I bought it for $15 a 1,000 board feet, sawed and planed - $15. But the chestnut tree was one of the biggest losses we ever had in many ways. The loss of the timber, the loss of the chestnuts to the animals of course, the squirrel, deer. Practically all of the animals ate chestnuts and by losing the chestnuts, why, it badly affected the wildlife of this area. But, you really didn’t realize how many chestnut trees there were until they all died. I can remember going from here to Blowing Rock on what we call the Yonahlossee Trail, which is still there any is part of the (Blue Ridge) Parkway now. You can see a great distance along that road, up the mountain and below the mountain, and before the leaves would come out, or just when they would begin to come out, you could see all these dead chestnut trees. I’d say ¾ of the trees were chestnut trees. But they would stand out at that period you see, and you could tell that they were dead chestnuts. It was a great loss to the whole country. 11 �LH: What was it that caused the… BB: The blight? LH: Yes, the blight. BB: Somebody brought in a chestnut tree either from China or Japan, and it was diseased, and it gave the blight to the chestnuts in North America, and that blight spread. They never found anyway to stop it, and it killed every chestnut tree in the United States. LH: They can’t grow them anymore, can they? BB: Well, they have found one that’s blight-proof, but it’s really, its what they call an English Chestnut. It’s much larger than our chestnuts. You’ve got to plant it and take care of it, like you’re taking care of an apple tree or something. Pam: Well, what kind is it that the Penland’s have? They have one in their yard; we eat chestnuts from it all the time. I think it’s a Japanese kind or something? BB: Well, it probably one of those English Chestnut trees – they call them “Horse Chestnuts” because they’re larger. They are really not a true chestnut as far as the chestnut we had. I’ve never heard of anybody cutting the timber from them, because we don’t have that many of them. The chestnut timber now, if you can find any that were sound, some were found even years afterward, and they were able to cut a lot of the logs found on the ground or still standing and cut the sound wood out of them. It brought big money because it was scarce wood, and everybody like those worm holes. LH: My sister and her husband got a wormy chestnut bookcase for a wedding present and they said that was the best present they got. It’s really beautiful. BB: But, the funny thing about the chestnut tree. If it was cut but not soon enough, it got shaky and a shaky chestnut lumber was worthless and still is even today. If you had it, it would be worthless. In fact, a man offered me 40,000 board feet about five or six years ago. I had a wood working shop and we had a lot of demand for things made of chestnut lumber that was cut, so he offered the 40,000 feet for $35 a thousand feet. I didn’t know that much about it. So, I went to somebody that did and asked, “Out of 40,000 feet, surely to goodness you could cut enough good out of it to get five or six thousand feet,” and he said, “No, if it’s shaky chestnut, you cannot get anything good out of it. If you had ten million feet of it, you couldn’t.” So I didn’t buy it. About all you can use it for is for sheathing for a barn or something like that, but it won’t last anytime you see. Once it’s exposed to the weather, it doesn’t last. 12 �LH: Comparing childhood during the Depression days, when you were growing up – what did you like best about those days? What were some of your best days? What do you like best about living now and what did you not like back then? BB: It would take a long time to answer all than, but quickly: The Depression didn’t bother us because I was too young, and we were in a business where I guess, we made money faster than the common run of people. So I had a car when I was 17 and have had one ever since. The first car I ever bought was the only one I was ever able to pay cash for, I think. I guess that I was better off between 1935-45, than I ever have been since! LH: I guess that’s something you don’t like about now, the way everything cost a lot more. BB: Well, it’s really harder to accumulate anything or make any money this day and time than it was in those days because of high taxes and the high cost of living. Bought insurance back when it was cheap and had the money for it. If you had the money today it would be worth well, what is it worth now? A dollar is worth about 40 cents. I doubt that it’s even worth that. The government’s index claims that stuff has risen so much, that I can remember the first car that I bought in 1935, brand new Deluxe Ford cost 600 dollars. And of course, everything is not that much difference of course, but that is an example – that’s why I said with a little money back in those days, you could really have yourself a ball, because it didn’t cost anything. Go on vacation, I’ve gone to Florida and spent less than $200, now it will cost you that and a little more than that to buy a plane ticket there and back. LH: Or just to stay down there a while in a motel. Forty dollars a day in a motel for practically all of them. What do you like best, if you can pinpoint anything, about today’s lifestyle, the way things are now? BB: Well, I like the improvements man has made, certainly. A lot of people say the “Good old days.” When I say that, I’m talking about the fact that stuff didn’t cost much. But I still appreciate the fact that we have all these “luxuries” like dishwashers that do a lot for the housewife. But the trash-smasher, the dishwasher, the refrigerator, -- that’s one thing we’ve always had, so that doesn’t mean as much to me, but I do – from the fact that until after the war, there was more than 10% of the people outside of the town that had lights. Everywhere now rural districts have lights, and that is to be a very, certainly a luxury for them. Bound to be, and that was the first thing that everybody did after the war that could get them of course, these other things could come in such as washing machines, refrigerators, whatever. But I do like the fact that man has made all the progress he has. I’ve certainly seen more progress made in my lifetime than was made for previous, well, some people say millions of years. Some people say 10,000 years, or whatever. But that’s up to the individual to think what he wants to about it, but I think more progress has been made in the past 25 years than ever 13 �has been made before. And maybe in the next 25 years it will be – it’s hard to imagine, but maybe just as much or more. LH: If you could change something right now, what would you change? BB: Well, that’s hard to keep from thinking of personal matters, and that wouldn’t have anything to do with what you’re asking. 14 � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Appalachian Oral History Project Interviews Description An account of the resource In 1973, representatives from Appalachian State University (ASU) began the process of collecting interviews from Watauga, Avery, Ashe, and Caldwell county citizens to learn about their respective lives and gather stories. From the outset of the project, the interviewers knew that they were reaching out to the “last generation of Appalachian residents to reach maturity before the advent of radio, the last generation to maintain an oral tradition.” The goal was to create a wealth of data for historians, folklorists, musicians, sociologists, and anthropologists interested in the Appalachian Region. The project was known as the “Appalachian Oral History Project” (AOHP), and developed in a consortium with Alice Lloyd College and Lees Junior College (now Hazard County Community College) both in Kentucky, Emory and Henry College in Virginia, and ASU. Predominately funded through the National Endowment for the Humanities, the four schools by 1977 had amassed approximately 3,000 interviews. Each institution had its own director and staff. Most of the interviewers were students. Outgrowths of the project included the Mountain Memories newsletter that shared the stories collected, an advisory council, a Union Catalog, photographs collected, transcripts on microfilm, and the book Our Appalachia. Out of the 3,000 interviews between the three schools, only 663 transcripts were selected to be microfilmed. In 1978, two reels of microfilm were made available with 96 transcripts contributed by ASU. An annotated index referred to as The Appalachian Oral History Project Union Catalog was created to accompany the microfilm. The catalog is broken down into five sections starting with a subject topic index such as Civilian Conservation Corps, Coal Camps, Churches, etc. The next four sections introduced the interviewees by respective school. There was an attempt to include basic biographic information such as date of birth, location, interviewer name, length of interview, and subjects discussed. However, this information was not always consistent per school. This online project features clips from the interviews, complete transcripts, and photographs. The quality and consistency of the interviews vary due to the fact that they were done largely by students. Most of the photos are missing dates and identifying information. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Collection 111. Appalachian Oral History Project Records, 1965-1989 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1965-1989 Sound A resource whose content is primarily intended to be rendered as audio. Artist Brinkley, Bill (interviewee) Harmon, Lester (interviewer) Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:01, Buckeye luck charm Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Bill C. Brinkley, February 3, 1973 Description An account of the resource Bill Carroll Brinkley was born on July 27, 1917 in Elk Park in Avery County to David Brinkley (b. July 24, 1879 – January 1971) who was from Grassy Creek near Spruce Pine, North Carolina and Carroll Ivey Brinkley who was from Chester, South Carolina, and he had five siblings including a twin brother. He graduated from Cranberry High School in 1934 then started working in the family hardware store and served briefly in the U.S. Army enlisting in February 1945. He died on March 20, 2001 at the age of 83. During the interview he reflects on a happy childhood during the Depression partly because everyone was self­‐sufficient and raised their own food. He provides several anecdotal stories about his education, the family owned Brinkley Hardware Store in Elk Park, religion and local churches, the origin Elk Park, the railroad, the Cranberry mine, and tourism in Avery County. He also discusses collecting herbs and rationing during the Depression and relates stories about panthers and the Brown Mountain Lights. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Brinkley, Bill Carroll Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a title="Appalachian Oral History Project Interviews, 1965-1989" href="https://appstate-speccoll.lyrasistechnology.org/repositories/2/resources/195" target="_blank">Appalachian Oral History Project Interviews, 1965-1989</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 3-Feb-73 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Copyright for the interviews on the Appalachian State University Oral History Collection site is held by Appalachian State University. The interviews are available for free personal, non-commercial, and educational use, provided that proper citation is used (e.g. Appalachian State Collection 111. Appalachian Oral History Project Records, 1965-1989, W.L. Eury Appalachian Collection, Special Collections, Appalachian State University, Boone, NC). Any commercial use of the materials, without the written permission of the Appalachian State University, is strictly prohibited. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource MP3 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 14 pages Language A language of the resource English English Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant <kml xmlns="http://earth.google.com/kml/2.0"><Folder><name>OpenLayers export</name><description>Exported on Thu Oct 24 2013 14:11:05 GMT-0400 (Eastern Standard Time)</description></Folder></kml>||||osm Elk Park (N.C.) Avery County (N.C) Subject The topic of the resource Brinkley, Bill Carroll--Interviews Avery County (N.C.)--Social life and customs--20th century Depressions--1929--North Carolina--Avery County--Interviews Farm life--North Carolina--Avery County--Interviews Christian life--North Carolina--Avery County--Interviews almanac Avery County car Depression Education Elk Park farming folklore religion tourism