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�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
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�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
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�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
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�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
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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.
�
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Appalachian Consortium Press Publications
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Recollections of the Catawba Valley
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<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>
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Catawba Valley
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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
�
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Appalachian Region, Southern--Poetry
Mountain life--Poetry
Women--Poetry
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Appalachian Consortium Press Publications
Description
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This collection contains digitized monographs and collections from the Appalachian Consortium Press.
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June 1, 2017
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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>
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Sellers, Bettie
Language
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English
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Appalachian Region, Southern--Poetry
Mountain life--Poetry
Women--Poetry
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Appalachian Consortium Press
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1986
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PDF
Poetry
E-books
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Text
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<a title="Appalachian Consortium Press Publications" href="https://omeka.library.appstate.edu/collections/show/82" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Appalachian Consortium Press Publications</a>
Appalachian
folklore
Poems
storytelling
-
https://omeka.library.appstate.edu/files/original/15f7bbd6555970c47e1e8411aa4c5e0f.pdf
0f3617028c726c1f8c007f110b8c0e51
PDF Text
Text
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�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
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Title
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Appalachian Consortium Press Publications
Description
An account of the resource
This collection contains digitized monographs and collections from the Appalachian Consortium Press.
Creator
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Appalachian Consortium Press
Publisher
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Appalachian Consortium Press
Date Issued
Date of formal issuance (e.g., publication) of the resource.
June 1, 2017
Contributor
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<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
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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
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Almanacs, American--Tennessee
Appalachian Mountains--Social life and customs
Date
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1975
Language
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English
Format
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PDF
E-books
Type
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Text
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<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
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<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
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<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.)
Appalachian
Folk Culture
folklore
food preservation
foodways
-
https://omeka.library.appstate.edu/files/original/3aeeaf308ceb052510e4cdf8e87ad22e.mp3
0b9d918f32fd32d6133a1758eb93924f
https://omeka.library.appstate.edu/files/original/830a6f5fc4916a88e5a974b7ed6225dd.mp3
0a59da7c9ba4a294023e100f4787e639
https://omeka.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
�
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Dublin Core
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Title
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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
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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
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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
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Interview with Edward Blackburn, March 2, 1973
Subject
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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
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<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
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MP3
Extent
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20 pages
Language
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English
English
Type
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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
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Todd (N.C.)
Ashe County
childhood games
Civil War
folklore
ministry
railroad
religion
timber
Todd
Watauga County N.C.
West Jefferson
World War One
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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
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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
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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
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Brinkley, Bill Carroll
Source
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<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
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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
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MP3
Extent
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14 pages
Language
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English
English
Type
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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
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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