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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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Catawba River Valley (N.C. and S.C.)
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Appalachian Consortium Press Publications
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Appalachian Consortium Press
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Appalachian Consortium Press
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June 1, 2017
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Appalachian State University
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Recollections of the Catawba Valley
Description
An account of the resource
<span>Published in 1983, </span><em>Recollections of the Catawba Valley</em><span> is a selection of family stories, local history, and mountain folklore chosen by Alexander Mull and Gordon Boger who were longtime citizens of the valley in North Carolina. The Mull family was one of the earliest settlers in the region, and Boger, although born elsewhere, was considered a native of the valley. Some of the stories in this volume were originally published in The News Herald of Morganton, as both authors were longtime contributors to the paper. W. H. Plemmons, second President of Appalachian State University, wrote the foreward.<br /></span><br /><a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=1D2noiMjRifKl_UJ_JDGHi-RgaIqROLBz" target="_blank">Download EPub<br /><br /></a><a title="UNC Press Link" href="https://www.uncpress.org/book/9781469638379/recollections-of-the-catawba-valley/" target="_blank">UNC Press Print on Demand</a>
Creator
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Mull, J. Alexander
Boger, Gordon
Language
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English
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Catawba River Valley (N.C. and S.C.)
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Appalachian Consortium Press
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1983
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Catawba River
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PDF
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Text
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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>
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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>
Catawba Valley
folklore
history
recollections
residents
tales