Appalachian History

I don't ever seem to be able to get away from groceries

2009-12-23T05:00:00.004-05:00

"So you wonder why I have spent the last ten years of my life behind this meat counter," said Jack Gallup. "You think I ought to be doin' something better, do you? Well, I'll tell you. For one thing, I never would study in school and I dropped out at the end of the fifth grade; and another thing is, I have never been able to get any money ahead because I spent it on gasoline and liquor.

I am not much over thirty, but I might have saved up enough money by now to start a small business of my own. I know the grocery business and I know the meat business from top to bottom. My uncle's store has a good trade and I do all the buying for the meat counter and the stand behind the counter to cut it and weigh it. Particular people come in here and it's my business to please them.

In the course of time, you know, a man can learn anything if he puts his mind on it. I could have learned something out of books when I was in school, but I wasn't willin' to put my mind on it. I was interested in marbles and baseball and in playing pranks on the other boys and in deviling the teachers. A good lawyer here in Tucony once told my mother I'd make a good lawyer if I'd only study, but I wouldn't.

What little I know I've learned right here in this store. In sellin' meat I learned some arithmetic because I had to, and I've learned to speak fairly good English from educated people who came in here to trade. I've always kept my ears open, and that's easier than studyin' books and worth more; I never could see much in books.

I remember at least one thing I heard a teacher say. It was somethin' about paying too dear for your whistle. These people who get a book education have to pay too much for it. I may not be right but that's my way of thinkin'. Anyhow I wasn't willin' to pay the price. It may be worth it to some people but not to me.

Have I always lived in Tucony? Most of my life. I was born out in the country six miles from town on a farm my granddaddy bought when this was a wild country, and I had my fun fishin' and huntin' and trappin'. I went to school when I had to, and I worked in the cornfield when I had to, but my daddy had to lick me sometimes to make me do it. I reckon the way I lived out in the country is what makes me so strong and healthy.

When my daddy moved into town so my sisters could go to high school, I got a job as an errand boy in a grocery store, and I don't ever seem to be able to get away from groceries. When I was growin' up I got several other small jobs, but I didn't keep any of 'em long. I got to runnin' round nights with the boys and we used to drink and prowl about, and sometimes times we got into fights and landed in the cooler. It cost my daddy a lot of money to get me out of trouble, and it was at a time when he had mighty little money. I don't know why it is but when I get liquor in me I want to fight. I'm just a plain fool.

Finally my uncle took me into his grocery and put me behind the meat counter. I got drunk once in a great while and he always threatened to fire me but he never did. He's a queer old duck, but he's good-hearted. He hates to see money go out of his hands but he'll give a bunch of ripening bananas to some of his kin to help feed the chillun. Some people would rather give things to strangers than to their kin. Not my uncle. He abuses everybody who works for him, but he is good to them in many ways. He'll do anything for them except raise their wages; some of them have been with him a long time.

He and his wife work hard - she with her butter-making and he behind his counter or an the road looking after his branch stores in neighboring towns. He drives his own automobile and he goes like the devil was after him. He says time's money, and money is what he wants. Two or three times he has run his car off the mountainside and rolled over and over, but he's so tough he was back at work in a day or so. He growls and says he's nearly dead but he goes on. I once told him he wasn't fit to die. I expected he'd beat me over the head with a stick, but he only laughed.

Spencer Mull,
Brevard, N.C.
interviewed August 7, 1939 by A.W. Long
Folklore Project of the Federal Writers' Project
for the U.S. Works Progress (later Work Projects) Administration (WPA)
online at http://lcweb2.loc.gov/wpa/27060407.html

They pulled the candy and laughed and frolicked

2009-12-22T05:00:00.000-05:00

You kin talk about y’r op’ras, y’r germans an' all sich
Y’r afternoon r’ceptions an' them pleasures o’ the rich
You kin feast upon y’r choc’lates an’ y’r creams an’ ices full
But none of ‘em is ekal to a good old candy pull.

For ther’ isn’t any perfume like the ‘lasses on the fire
A bubblin’ an’ a dancin’, as it keeps a risin’ higher
While the spoon goes stirrin’, stirrin’, till the kittle's even full
No, I reely think ther's nothin like a good old candy pull.

Then the exercise o’ pullin’, how it sets the cheeks aglow
While the tongue makes merry music as the hands move to and fro,
An’ with scarcely hidden laughter, the eyes are brimmin’ full
For the happiness is honest at a good old candy pull.

It's true we miss the music an’ the ballroom's crush an’ heat,
But ther’ isn’t any bitter that stays behind the sweet,
An’ I think the world’d be better, an’ its cup o’ joy more full
If we only had more pleasures like the good old candy pull.

The Candy Pull
By A. R. Luse

The sugar was boiling in the kettles, and while it boiled the boys and girls played "snap," and "eleven hand," and "thimble," and "blindfold," and another old play which some of our older people will remember:

"Oh! Sister Phœbe, how merry were we,
When we sat under the juniper tree—
The juniper tree-I-O."

And when the sugar had boiled down into candy they emptied it into greased saucers, or as the mountain folks called them, "greased sassers," and set it out to cool; and when it had cooled each boy and girl took a saucer; and they pulled the taffy out and patted it and rolled it till it hung well together; and then they pulled it out a foot long; they pulled it out a yard long; and they doubled it back, and pulled it out; and when it began to look like gold the sweethearts paired off and consolidated their taffy and pulled against each other.

They pulled it out and doubled it back, and looped it over, and pulled it out; and sometimes a peachblow cheek touched a bronzed one; and sometimes a sweet little voice spluttered out; "you Jack;" and there was a suspicious smack like a cow pulling her foot out of stiff mud.

They pulled the candy and laughed and frolicked; the girls got taffy on their hair—the boys got taffy on their chins; the girls got taffy on their waists—the boys got taffy on their coat sleeves. They pulled it till it was as bright as a moonbeam, and then they platted it and coiled it into fantastic shapes and set it out in the crisp air to cool.

Then the courting in earnest began. They did not court then as the young folks court now. The young man led his sweetheart back into a dark corner and sat down by her, and held her hand for an hour, and never said a word. But it resulted next year in more cabins on the hillsides and in the hollows; and in the years that followed the cabins were full of candy-haired children who grew up into a race of the best, the bravest, and the noblest people the sun in heaven ever shone upon.

In the bright, bright hereafter, when all the joys of all the ages are gathered up and condensed into globules of transcendent ecstacy, I doubt whether there will be anything half so sweet as were the candy-smeared, ruby lips of the country maidens to the jeans-jacketed swains who tasted them at the candy-pulling in the happy long ago.

sources: Gov. Bob Taylor's Tales, by Bob Taylor, DeLong & Rice, Nashville, 1896 online at www.gutenberg.org/files/20171/20171-h/20171-h.htm

The Candy Pull, by A.B. Luse, Werner's Readings and Recitations, No. 38, edited by Edgar S. Werner, Edgar S. Werner & Co, NY, 1907

The mule I drove was called Old Red

2009-12-21T05:00:00.000-05:00

You hear young folk singers today sing happy work songs about mule drivers and mule-skinners. I sometimes wonder if any of them know what driving a mule is really like, and if they'd still sing so merrily if they knew.

 My first job was carrying water on the Interstate Railroad grade at Josephine, about a half-mile from our old home near Norton. That was my introduction to mule driving. It wasn't nearly as glamorous as it sounds in the songs.

 Underground coal cars, at that time, were pulled by mules. The driver who carried the largest whip and who used it the most forcefully was regarded as the best driver. Drivers generally were jealous of each other and the ones I knew considered themselves a cut above the miners who dug for coal.  

The animals worked every day, usually about twelve hours. They had a terrible, repulsive odor about them. Their necks and shoulders seemed always to be raw around their collars, and their hind quarters bore great welts and scars from blows administered with the whip or the "butt stick."

Mules are noted for their stubbornness, but few were as stubborn (and none as cruel) as the men who drove them. If a man wasn't brutal when he started the job, he soon learned to be. There may have been exceptions, but I can't recall any.  
The whip wielded by a mule driver was about ten feet in over-all length. It was made of plaited leather, tapered from a maximum diameter of two-and-a-half to three inches in the middle down to about one inch on the ends. On the "cracker" end of the whip was a piece of rawhide about three-quarters of an inch wide and fourteen inches long; and on the end of that, a piece of twisted seagrass about the thickness of a lead pencil and twelve inches in length.  

Mule drivers prided themselves on their skill and power with their whips. They could tear a man (or a mule) to pieces with one. The one distinguishing characteristic common to all mule drivers was a "red-eyed" appearance. This was not from drinking (though it might have very well been in most cases), but from the effects of having mud slung into their eyes by their mule's hooves.  

I came to learn quite a bit about mules, and how to care for them and work them. In 1911, at the age of thirteen, I became a mule driver.

My career as a mule driver lasted just a few months. It was hard, cruel, dangerous work. In those days, we used the drift mouth method of mining coal. It was also called deep mining. A network of tunnels followed veins of coal deep into a mountainside, sometimes for several miles.  

The mule I drove was called Old Red. He was a fine, strong animal. I thought of Old Red as my partner in the mining business, rather than a beast of burden. And I think he appreciated it. In fact, I'm sure he did. He rarely, if ever balked on me. I frequently led Old Red down into the shallow water of Powell's River beneath the Josephine Bridge and scrubbed him down with strong lye soap-- a practice which the veteran drivers viewed with scorn. But they couldn't deny that Old Red was the best-looking, best-smelling mule in the community.  

The hours I worked were roughly 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. I had to spend an hour each morning feeding, currying, and harnessing my mule, and two hours in the evening unharnessing, rubbing down, and feeding him.  

One morning I was hauling "Bowser" Farmer and three other miners into the mine on my car. As we approached their work area, I began to slue the car over the parting to the left, off the main line. In less time than it takes to tell it, a sudden rock fall buried Old Red and narrowly missed killing us all. The poor mule, my pet and my proud companion, never knew what hit him. It was probably the "closest call" I ever had in a coal mine--and a terrifying experience for a thirteen-year-old.
 
Only about eight feet separated a mule from his car, and I was sitting out on the bumper when that hundred tons of rock crushed Old Red. One second he was there, responding to my commands--and then suddenly, he was buried and gone forever, in less time than it takes to scream.  

There was nothing to do but cut the traces, drop back a few feet, and cut a new entry. Another mule was hitched to my car. Everything was back to normal. We had to get that coal.  

If I wasn't already a man, I became one that day.

The Life and Times of a Mountaineer Game Warden, by Dave O'Neill
(1898-1974, b. Norton VA), online at http://vagenweb.org/wise/MountaineerGameWarden.html

Listen Here: weekly Appalachian History podcast posts today

2009-12-20T05:02:00.000-05:00

We post a new episode of Appalachian History weekly podcast every Sunday. You can start listening right away by clicking the podcast icon over on the left side of your screen. If you'd rather grab the show off itunes for later listening, click here:

We open today's show with a look at fruitcake traditions in Appalachia. Yes, it’s heavy as a brick, and lasts long enough that you can re-gift it year after year without anyone commenting on its shelf life having expired. Blame the Scots.

We’ll pause in between things to catch up on a Calendar of Events in the region this week, with special attention paid to events that emphasize heritage and local color.

Next, Ohio farmer LP Bailey testifies before a 1912 Congressional agricultural subcommittee on the threat of an unregulated margarine industry to the health of America’s dairy industry. “I am interested---am in favor of oleo,” he says. “I believe there is a need for oleo---a place for it, a demand for it---but I want it to stand on its own merits like everything else stands on its own merits.”

“When all the white boys and girls would be away Miss Beckie would gather the little negro children around the fire and talk with us,” explains former North Georgia slave Levi Branham (1852-1944) in his memoirs. “One day I said to Miss Beckie: ‘Why do we little negro children have to work for you?’ She said, ‘That's the way our fore-parents fixed the matter." I said to her, "when I get grown I am going to change the situation somewhat.’ "

John Gable was born in 1910 in Superior, WI, and moved to Konnarock, VA with his family in 1936. In this oral history excerpt from 1995 he examines the evolution of the Christmas tree farming industry in that area from his young manhood till now.

At 10:20 a.m., December 6, 1907, explosions occurred at the No. 6 and No. 8 mines at Monongah, WV. The explosions ripped through the mines at 10:28 a.m., causing the earth to shake as far as eight miles away, shattering buildings and pavement, hurling people and horses violently to the ground, and knocking streetcars off their rails. Three-hundred and sixty-two men and boys died. It remains the worst mine disaster in the history of the United States.

We’ll wrap things up with a look at the variations on the centuries old Christmas carol “The Cherry Tree.” The Appalachian versions mention the actual date of Christ’s birth, unlike the original English carol, and that helps folklorists to place a particular version in time. Old Christmas Day, NOT December 25, is the date they look for. In 1751, when a change in the calendar had become expedient, eleven days were dropped out between September 2nd and 14th, 1752, thus making January 4th the date of Old Christmas Day. In 1800, another day was taken from the calendar, and in 1900 still another, so that Old Christmas Day now falls on January 7th.

And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Archive we'll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music by the Knoxville trio Mountain Laurel in a modern recording of “Hewlett’s Air” by the great Irish Renaissance harpist and composer Turlough O'Carolan (Toirdhealbhach Ó Cearbhalláin).

So, call your old blue-tick hound up on the porch, fire up your corn-cob pipe, and settle in for a dose of Appalachian History.

Poor men are buying butterine at rich men's butter prices

2009-12-18T05:00:00.001-05:00

Oleomargarine hearings before the Committee on Agriculture

House of Representatives

on bills proposing to amend the oleomargarine laws

February 28 to April 2, 1912

Statement of LP Bailey

Mr BAILEY: Mr. Chairman and gentlemen of the committee, I come before you today as a farmer---practical dairyman and general farmer. I represent the grange interests of Ohio. We have a membership there of something over 40,000. We have one or more active organizations in every county. I also represent the Ohio Cattle Club which is perhaps the strongest state club of organizations in the United States.

Now as I said I live on my farm, I have three boys on that with me and they are satisfied to remain on that farm if they feel that they have as good a show to make an honest living on the farm as they would to engage in other lines of business; and I assured them that the Congress of the United States will not enact any laws that are going to injure the farm interests of the country, and especially the dairy interests.

Ola Belle "Shorts" Schaub, an employee of Joseph Schaner Dairy in Yorkville, OH. Dairy farmers nationwide were outraged that butterine was undercutting their ability to compete fairly, and demanded protectionist laws from Congress.

I am interested---am in favor of oleo. I believe there is a need for oleo---a place for it, a demand for it---but I want it to stand on its own merits like everything else stands on its own merits. I want to give you an instance. It never has been sold under any legislation we have ever had. We have never yet had any legislation under which all of it, or a large per cent of it, was sold for what it was.

I happened to be for awhile connected with the dairy and food department of Ohio. At a little town on the hills along the Ohio River at Yorkville, a coal mining town, I went into a company store there. I learned that they were selling oleo in there for butter, and at the price of butter.

[Representative] HAWLEY: Oleo for butter?

Mr BAILEY: Yes; they called it butterine; and I went there to the store. They did not know me. I called for butter. They handed me out 2 pounds and I paid for it. I paid 50 cents for the 2 pounds and it was butterine or oleomargarine. At the same time the best brand of Elgin butter---the best creamery butter there was made then---was selling in Wheeling, WV, only a few miles below, and at Bridgeport and Martins Ferry on the Ohio side, at the same price 25 cents a pound.

Mr LEVER: Was this butterine wrapped in cartons?

Mr BAILEY: No, it was just wrapped in 2 pound papers. And they had a strict law in that state requiring the oleomargarine sign to be put up---I could not find any in that store. The merchant said it had been torn down.

$25.00 receipt for butterine delivery, from The Capital City Dairy Co., Columbus, Ohio, July 5, 1909.

I took that sample to Cleveland and had it analyzed by Prof. Hobbs. It contained a little over 3 per cent, not 4 per cent, of dairy butter---creamery butter. It was the very lowest grade of oleomargarine or butterine that the Capital City Dairy Co of Columbus, OH manufactured.

It cost this firm 11 cents a pound---10 cents for the butterine or oleomargarine a pound---and they protected the dealer there by him paying 1 cent extra. It cost him 11 cents---the dealer. He was selling that out as a poor man's butter to the poor man at the rich man's butter price, 25 cents a pound. That made it possible for that dealer to make 14 cents net profit on that butterine that he was selling there to those poor miners, and you will find that will be the case, and that was the case, and is the case today all over the country, that poor men are buying that oleomargarine and they are buying it largely at the rich man's butter prices.

Congressional hearing papers online at http://bit.ly/78boyr

The town atop the steepest standard gauge railroad grade in the US

2009-12-17T15:53:00.004-05:00

This recent private commission by cut paper collage artist Alice Feagan depicts the small town of Saluda in the mountains of western North Carolina. Founded originally as a rest stop for weary train travelers and made famous by its annual Coon Dog Day, Saluda, as you can see from the illustration, is small town charm.

"Saluda sits at the top of the Norfolk Southern Railway's Saluda Grade, the steepest standard gauge railroad line in the United States," says Wikipedia. "The main street has been improved since 1995 with new restaurants and art galleries. Tourists and cyclists are common on summer and fall weekends.

"Their fire department is the first department in Polk County to receive heavy rescue achievement. They have around 10 trucks, and a good staff along with a supposedly excellent dive team. There are 8 certified members."

Old time musician Jean Ritchie recently suffered a stroke, and is in the hospital

2009-12-17T15:38:00.003-05:00

Dan Dutton, whom she mentored, discusses her legacy in more depth today on the Dandylandmuse blog.

From his post:

Jean wrote this email to one of her folk music friends who wasn't feeling well a while back, and posted it on the Mudcat traditional music discussion board. It is such an insightful and brave introspection:

"Here. We're back- son Jon from a two-week hospital stay,still having tests after getting home as they still can't find what the trouble is. George from another series of test, taking 18 different pills a day, soon to be told to start dialysis. Myself growling around the house with a hundred aches and pains. I can see and feel big changes coming, and know that this long Growing-Old part of our lives is coming to an end--- We ARE old! I start reading sympathetically about poor OLD people, and suddenly it hits me: What? I myself am 86. What do we do with our house? Man- all these taxes, who'll pay them next year? Will we go to a nursing home? Have a live-in nurse? I tell you, it's so hard when you finally realize that Life makes you keep on learning- right up to the end. I guess, as long as I can understand Life's messages, I'll be able to go on.

"And I tell myself, "Just think of all the people that ever lived in this world. How many problems and worries and tragedies have they endured, along with the fewer joys and goodtimes and successes? And, when you come down to it, one is one and all alone and evermore shall be so. Or another way of putting it, You got to cross that lonesome valley by yourself.

"I don't dread it, once I accept it. I have so loved my Mother and Father, all my gaggle of sisters, my three brothers (only one out of all of them is still in the world with me). We hurt with them if they have pain at the end, but we cannot go with them or ease that journey. Someone said, "The dead always look peaceful." I believe they are. I believe that they have walked the valley and found at last the destination we all are are striving to find. What else is Life, but a trip towards something higher and better? People who have almost died, have talked of being in a dark tunnel with a faint but bright light far ahead; then their passage is forbidden and they have to turn from the light and return to Life- to do an unfinished task there? To help or guide someone else for awhile longer?

"I wonder- but it doesn't matter, does it? None of us can live forever. We must live Life to the fullest, then give those behind us a loving farewell. That's what I hope I can do.

"I'll stop, because I don't know what I'm trying to say, but I thought it ought to be said. I guess I was trying to understand, myself, that not all of us CAN live to be old, or WANT to, and so arrive earlier at that entrance into the next world. In my personal prayers, I always say in my thoughts, "Lord, I'll stay as long as You need me, so show me what to do..."

"Big Mick, feel better, and I hope that Fate, or Karma, or whatever, eases up on you. I know you'll be needed in this Life for a long time, so take the reins that have been handed to you, and have a good, long run. You have many who love you and are running along with you, and that lonesome valley is still far away.

"Love to you all, Jean

"PS: Darn- I bet y'all will think this is a stupid letter, and tomorrow I may think so myself! But it's what I felt like saying."

My master always treated me like I was a human being

2009-12-17T05:00:00.000-05:00

I spent a large portion of my life in the Chief Vann house with my old master, Mr. Edmondson. He had a daughter by the name of Jennie. Jennie had a waitress who was named Tein. Another of his daughters was Sug, whose waitress was Fannie. Another one of his daughters was Georgia whose waitress was Elvie. These were all of the single daughters that Mr. Edmondson had when I was with him, but he had three married daughters whose names were Harriet, Sallie and Sue. Harriet married Bob Anderson, Sue married Street, and Sallie married Dr. Mathis.

Levi and Mandy Branham, Spring Place, GA, about 1920.

One of my young masters was John Edmondson, another, Tom Polk Edmondson. I was Tom Polk's waitman until he went to the Civil war between the North and South. Bill, the youngest, was quite small. All of the waitmen and waitresses stayed in the Edmondson house now known as the Chief Vann house. The room in which we stayed had a fine carpet on which we slept. Mr. Edmondson gave us fine blankets and we surely did sleep warm and comfortable.

My old mistress, "Miss Beckie," was very good to us. She took more pains with us darkies than our parents did, simply because she had more to care for us with, and too, she loved us. Occasionally "Miss Beckie" would give us tea for medicine. She had a hard time getting this tea in me, but I had to take it after all. Sometimes she would give us peach brandy which I was always glad to get. Sometimes we would pretend that we were sick so we could get sweetened coffee and buttered biscuits which certainly tasted good to us darkies. I thought as much of "Miss Beckie" as I did my mother.

When all the white boys and girls would be away "Miss Beckie" would gather the little negro children around the fire and talk with us. One day I said to "Miss Beckie": "Why do we little negro children have to work for you?" She said, "That's the way our fore-parents fixed the matter." I said to her, "when I get grown I am going to change the situation somewhat."

My Mistress told me that the negroes were brought from Africa so that they could be enlightened and that they may be taught to serve God. That may be so, but I hardly know what to think of it. I had a colored friend who is now dead, who always argued with me that negroes were brought from Africa to be enlightened. It seems that the negroes do not stick to one another as the white people do. If one negro has money the others will stick to him, but if he has no money they are all down on him.

The negro race is a peculiar race, so far as color and mind is concerned. Some are black, some dark black, some are dark brown and some light brown, some are yellow and some are nearly white. To me they resemble Joseph's coat. They all have many different minds. I believe the North Georgia negroes had better treatment and were more enlightened than the South Georgia negroes.

The Vann House circa 1930. Branham's memoir was published the year before.

Once upon a time Major Jackson and I carried a drove of mules that belonged to Mr. Sam Carter to South Georgia. The white man in South Georgia to whom we carried the mules, said he did not allow negroes in his house. I said to him, "I was reared in white folks' house." He said, "the negroes here would steal if they had to steal the dish rag." This white gentleman treated us very nice. Some of those negroes down in South Georgia said they wished Mr. Carter would bring them a sack of flour, because they had had no biscuits since last Christmas and it was almost Christmas again.

The old colored folks in South Georgia told me that the negro foremen were as hard again on them as their owners were. One old negro in South Georgia told me that they had to steal or perish because the white folks did not give them enough to eat.

I thank the Good Lord that my master always gave me plenty to eat and treated me like I was a human being.

from "Memoirs of a Slave/My Live and Travels," By Levi Branham (1852-1944), published 1929 by the A. J. Showalter Company of Dalton, GA. Online at http://www.murraycountymuseum.com/ms_3_1.html

The Cherry Tree Carol (abridged)

2009-12-16T05:00:00.003-05:00

JOSEPH was an old man,
And an old man was he,
When he wedded Mary
In the land of Galilee.

Joseph and Mary walk’d
Through an orchard good,
Where was cherries and berries
So red as any blood.

Joseph and Mary walk’d
Through an orchard green,
Where was berries and cherries
As thick as might be seen.

O then bespoke Mary,
So meek and so mild,
‘Pluck me one cherry, Joseph,
For I am with child.’

O then bespoke Joseph
With words so unkind,
‘Let him pluck thee a cherry
That brought thee with child.’

O then bespoke the babe
Within his mother’s womb,
‘Bow down then the tallest tree
For my mother to have some.’

Then bow’d down the highest tree
Unto his mother’s hand:
Then she cried, ‘See, Joseph,
I have cherries at command!’

O then bespake Joseph—
‘I have done Mary wrong;
But cheer up, my dearest,
And be not cast down.

The "Cherry Tree Carol" originated in England in the 15th century. We might be better served to think of it as the "Cherry Tree Carols," since it exists in many versions, and any one given version is a composite of various sources.

English folklorist Cecil Sharp captured six American versions that were published in English Folk Songs From The Southern Appalachian (1932):

A. As Joseph And Mary Were A-Walking The Green (Mrs. Tom Rice, 1916)
B. Joseph Were A Young Man (Mrs. Jane Gentry, 1916)
C. When Joseph Was A Young Man (Mr. William Wooton, 1917)
D. Joseph Was A Young Man (Mrs. Margaret Dunagan, 1917)
E. Joseph Was A Young Man (Mrs. Alice and Mrs. Sudie Sloan, 1917)
F. Joseph Took Mary All On His Right Knee (Mrs. Townsley, 1917)

"The references to [Christ's] birthday do not appear in the English texts," says Sharp of these versions of the carol. "It is of interest that the date is given in the texts B and C as 'the fifth day of January', which according to 'Old Style' reckoning was the date of Christmas Day between the years 1752 and 1799.

"In 1751, when a change in the calendar had become expedient, eleven days were dropped out between September 2nd and 14th, 1752, thus making January 4th the date of Old Christmas Day. In 1800, another day was taken from the calendar, and in 1900 still another, so that Old Christmas Day now falls on January 7th. In Miss McGill's version [Folk Songs of the Kentucky Mountains] the date is given as the 6th of January."

Source: www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/Joseph_Was_An_Old_Man.htm

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Worst mine disaster in US history

2009-12-15T05:00:00.000-05:00

At 10:20 a.m., December 6, 1907, explosions occurred at the No. 6 and No. 8 mines at Monongah, West Virginia. The explosions ripped through the mines at 10:28 a.m., causing the earth to shake as far as eight miles away, shattering buildings and pavement, hurling people and horses violently to the ground, and knocking streetcars off their rails. Three-hundred and sixty-two men and boys died. It remains the worst mine disaster in the history of the United States.

The Monongah Mines Nos. 6 and 8 were located on the West Fork of the Monongahela River, about six miles south of the town of Fairmont, West Virginia. The mines were connected underground and were considered model mines, the most up-to-date in the mining industry. Electricity was used for coal cutting machinery, locomotives were used to haul coal, and the largest areas of each mine were ventilated by mechanical fans.

For a time pandemonium reigned. Every local mine official was missing. It was impossible to fathom the nature and extent of the catastrophe, or to tell whether either mine was on fire or full of gas.

Soon after the explosion, four miners emerged through an outcrop opening, dazed and bleeding but otherwise unharmed. The stunned survivors could tell nothing of the fate of the others still underground.

With the hundreds of shrieking, half-crazed women and crying children came every man left in the town. Volunteers were willing and anxious to help with the rescue work.

Frantically, they cleared away the wreckage at the entrance and tried to force their way into the mine. They soon began to succumb to the toxic mine air and had to be rescued themselves.

The explosion filled the mine with "black damp", an atmosphere in which no human being could live. It blocked the main heading with wrecked cars and timbers, and demolished one of the fans, which greatly restricted ventilation.

Choking coal dust, rubble, and wrecked equipment impeded the progress of volunteer rescue teams. The No. 8 mine's huge ventilation fan had been destroyed, and a smaller fan was used to ventilate both mines. Brick stoppings, the partitions used to direct air through the mines, had been blown out. As rescue parties slowly advanced, they used canvas curtains to restore ventilation, dilute gas, and disperse dust.

At the bottom of No. 6 slope, debris from a wrecked trip was found scattered for 250 feet along the headings. Cars were smashed and piled on top of each other nearly blocking the entry. The trip had been pulled up the slope and stopped at the knuckle a short time before the explosion causing the coupling pin on the first car to break. The entire trip consisting of eighteen loaded two-ton cars went down the incline. The explosion occurred before the cars had gone into the pit mouth and before the trip had reached the bottom of the slope.

At 4:00 p.m., moaning was heard near a crop hole, and a rescuer was lowered through the hole on a rope. About 100 feet below, he found miner Peter Urban sitting on the shattered body of his brother, Stanislaus, staring glassy-eyed into space as he sobbed uncontrollably. He was the last survivor of the Monongah disaster.

Exhausted volunteers found conditions in the mines almost unbearable, heat was intense, and afterdamp caused headaches and nausea. In some headings, ventilation materials and bodies had to be hauled 3,000 feet over massive roof falls and wrecked machinery, mine cars, timbers, and electrical wiring. The stench of death was barely tolerable, and became overpowering as the search dragged on.

Searchers never lost sight of the fact that there might possibly be some men in the mine alive. They continued to explore all parts of the workings with all possible speed, leaving unnecessary work for another time.

Embalmers worked around the clock in shifts. Caskets lined both sides of the main street. The bank served as a morgue. Churches conducted funeral services several times a day as dozens of men dug long rows of graves on nearby hillsides. Disputes flared over identification of victims, and more than once, a body was claimed by two families.

By December 10, the number of people killed was over 175. It was obvious to most rescue workers, but not to relatives of missing men, that Peter Urban would be the last man to be brought out alive. By Thursday, December 12, all workings had been ventilated and searched and 337 bodies recovered. Twenty-five more victims were found during cleanup operations.

A special graveyard, soon filled, was laid out on a bleak hillside. Company houses flanked the burial ground. Rows of open graves were dug in the sodden, half-frozen, rain-drenched and snow-flecked West Virginia soil.

The 362 casualties of Monongah's coal mine disaster left more than 1,000 widows and children.

The Marion County Coroner's Jury, after hearing from numerous witnesses, concluded the victims of the disaster died from an explosion caused by either a blown-out shot or by ignition and explosion of blasting powder in Mine No. 8.

"Mining Disasters - An Exhibition," Mine Safety and Health Administration; online at www.msha.gov/DISASTER/MONONGAH/MONON3B.asp

It's only in the mountains that you can raise these frazier firs [for Christmas trees]

2009-12-14T05:00:00.001-05:00

ED- Are there people you know in the Konnarock area with these Christmas tree plantations?

JG - Yes, we have a little Christmas tree plantation here, too. We planted them ourselves and sold them for several years. They are getting pretty big now, but we've got some small ones that are 5 to 6 feet tall and they are still there. Those are frazier firs. They are born and raised in the Whitetop area, and we bought them and planted them, just little sprigs.

ED - Do you think a fair amount of money is made in Konnarock?

JG - Oh, yes. Over there in the Helton area there are some rich people because of the land and the trees that they own. Of course they got froze out, but the government was able to pay them something for the freeze problem.

ED - How did they get the government to do that?

JG - Some of them are on government land. I don't know just how that come about that they got paid for their trees.

ED - There are some people growing Christmas trees on government land?

Christmas tree farm in adjoining Grayson County, 1987

JG - I think so. I think some of it is owned land or leased land from the government, either leased from the government or other people. There are several landowners. J. Baldwin is one who sells Christmas trees every year. You have to be at least 3,000 feet high before you can start a frazier fir farm so it's only in the mountains that you can raise these frazier firs.

ED - Can people buy them and grow them elsewhere?

JG - They seem to; some do. I think maybe it's because they give them special care. People would buy the Christmas trees from us and then planted them and they would grow. They dig them up by the roots. The reason they don't grow when they are young is because it gets too warm in the wintertime. They begin to bud out too soon and then the buds get killed by frost.

ED - That's a major change from the '30s. There was nothing like that in the '30s.

JG - Except that they lashorned firs.

ED - Back in the '30s, were there tree plantations at all?

JG - They were just naturally formed.

ED - So people who owned land back in the '30s wouldn't have had that option for making money?

JG - I don't think so. If they sold their land to the lumber
company . . .

ED - Even though you saw mostly stumps when you came in the '30s, were there still people selling off lumber from their land?

JG - There was new lumber beginning right away from trees that had been planted immediately. They had grown up to pretty good size, but nothing like it is today where there are trees everywhere. Some are of a size that can be turned into lumber but some are not. We have some trees on our place that can be sold for lumbering purposes.

ED - People would not have seen much value in their land back in the '30s?

JG- Probably not.

ED - Because you couldn't make much money off of only land, could you?

JG - Well, they would set up small sawmills out in the woods and saw wood and sell it for lumber, sell it for firewood. They would saw rough lumber and people would use that to build barns.

ED - There were some local people making money off their land back then. Were there major landowners back in the '30s, families that owned most of the land?

JG - I think most of the families had small plots of land.

---excerpt from oral history with John Gable, (b. 1910 Superior, WI, moved to Konnarock, VA 1936)

Interviewed in 1995 by Edward H. Davis, Virginia Foundation for the Humanities and Public Policy, Charlottesville, VA, now in Appalachian Studies collection, Kelly Library, Emory & Henry College; online at http://library.ehc.edu/konnarock.html

Many thanks to Jacob Stump for his assistance on this article.

Listen Here: weekly Appalachian History podcast posts today

2009-12-13T11:10:00.000-05:00

We post a new episode of Appalachian History weekly podcast every Sunday. You can start listening right away by clicking the podcast icon over on the left side of your screen. If you'd rather grab the show off itunes for later listening, click here.

We open today's show with a Jack Tale from the Beech Mountain region of North Carolina. You’ve of course known the Jack and the Beanstalk tale since childhood, but Jack is the hero of many other stories retold in central Europe, the Scandinavian countries, England and Appalachia. Jack is a trickster, so he often bends the truth, and his tactics may be questionable, but his tales are truly entertaining, as you’ll see here.

We’ll pause in between things to catch up on a Calendar of Events in the region this week, with special attention paid to events that emphasize heritage and local color.

This is a time of year when hunters, from the earliest settlers on, have entered the forest seeking wild game to supplement the winter larder. The custom of mincemeat pies during the holidays is partially a holdover from putting up wild game in the days before freezers. The mincemeat mixture was a method of preservation, as the combination of the acids from the fruits and the heat from baking inhibited the growth of bacteria in the meat.

,”“For Christmas you didn't get much. There wasn't much,” Gwynn Jones (b. 1908) of her childhood in Warrensville, NC. “One little country store close by. There were more in the county, but they had nothing for children. We would get some oranges (they had oranges for Christmas) and some candy. We had no toys; however, there were dolls. As I remember they did have little dolls for the girls. My father and mother would get the girls a little doll."

In ‘A Kentucky Christmas,’ Thomas D. Clark tells us that thousands of country children were happier waking up in a cold farmhouse on Christmas morning because Santa Claus had not forgotten the firecrackers and Roman candles. “There were also torpedoes, which exploded with thunderous repercussions when dashed on the floor underneath girls’ feet, and Roman candles gave great gusto to the Christmas celebration.”

“Mark Morrison, manager of Morrison’s, well known local drug firm, was arraigned yesterday before Esquire Kerby, charged with violating the child labor law,” began an article in the Chattanooga Daily Times on December 12, 1915. “Page Zarley, a 12-year old boy, had been employed by the Morrison Drug company as table boy and had been required to work from noon until 11 at night.”

“Jesus, Jesus, rest your head, you have got a manger bed,” goes the refrain of an old Kentucky folk carol transcribed by John Jacob Niles (1892-1980). Niles began collecting Appalachian folk songs and composing music as a Kentucky teenager. “A sweep of his hand and the dulcimer gave forth magical sounds which caused the stars to gleam more brightly, which peopled the hills and meadows with silvery figures and made the brooks to babble like infants,” enthused one fan.

We’ll wrap things up with a look at the Christmas tradition of belsnickling. Up until the second World War, if a Shenandoah Valley family was a member of the Lutheran or Reformed church, the children could expect a Christmas Eve visit from the Belsnickle. The Belsnickle was not Santa Claus! He was ugly and he frightened the children. He typically wore a costume made from stockings and burlap or paper bags, and traveled from house to house brandishing his switches in the air.

And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Library of Appalachia we'll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music by the Whoopin’ Hollar Stringband in a 2006 recording of “Breakin’ up Christmas.”

So, call your old blue-tick hound up on the porch, fire up your corn-cob pipe, and settle in for a dose of Appalachian History.

"Morrison Is Employing Boy 12 Years of Age"

2009-12-11T05:00:00.002-05:00

Chattanooga Daily Times, December 12, 1915--

Mark Morrison, manager of Morrison’s, well known local drug firm, was arraigned yesterday before Esquire Kerby, charged with violating the child labor law, on a warrant sworn out by Mrs. O. D. Glenn, special investigator for the state. Mr. Morrison waived preliminary examination, and was bound over to the grand jury on a $250 bond.

In the warrant Mrs. Glenn charges that Page Zarley, a 12-year old boy, had been employed by the Morrison Drug company as table boy and had been required to work from noon until 11 at night, in violation of the state statutes prohibiting the employment of children after 6 in the evening.

Mrs. Glenn told a Times reporter that the Morrison company, as all other drug stores in the state, had been notified of the state laws in this respect in a bulletin sent out, and exhibited their receipt of same in a signed coupon which had been detached from the bulletin. She said that the Zarley boy had not been in school a day this year. Mrs. Glenn has a signed affidavit regarding the youngster’s age.

Young Zarley’s mother is a widow and has a boarding house at 216-1/2 Oak Street.

It was stated at the Morrison Drug company last night that the Zarley boy had been employed by the head soda dispenser, who he had told he was 14 years of age. William J. Morrison stated last night that the boy claimed he was needy, and in his position at their store was helping support his widowed mother. "We are always very careful," Mr. Morrison stated, "in employing boys in compliance with the labor law, and were told by young Zarley that he was 14, but neglected to get an affidavit. We have been compelled to refuse several deserving and needy boys employment on account of the laws governing these cases."

Esquire Kerby, when asked yesterday if he would take the case, said that under his oath of office he had no alternative. He said, however, that in the event it was shown that the boy was working to help support himself and mother, and had been given employment through kindness, he would dismiss the case. He said he took the position that when a minor has no other means of support he should be permitted to retain his employment even if his hours do conflict with the statutes in that connection.

"The people of Chattanooga do not seem to be in favor of regulating the employment of children and females, as is set forth in the statutes," said Mrs. Glenn last night. "They seem willing to allow them to work under any conditions, but I am here to enforce these laws, and I will make every effort to stop agues of the laws."

*Mrs. Glenn left last night for Knoxville where she will remain for several days before returning here.

About the photo by Lewis Hines: caption reads "Street Bretzau, who is a 'Tube bou' in mule-room [at Richmond Spinning Mills]. Mule is apparently more dangerous than ring spinning. (See bandaged finger.) Photo during working hours. Chattanooga, Tenn., 12/06/1910"

From 1908 until 1912 Hines (1874-1940) traveled across the U.S. photographing conditions of child labor in many different settings. His photos show the haunting images of children bound to work in factories, mills, and street trades, to name a few. These pictures encouraged labor law reform and the implementation of safety laws.

sources: http://snipurl.com/1v8m2
www.appstate.edu/~hindmanhd/lewishine.html

child+labor Lewis+Hines Chattanooga+TN appalachian+history appalachian+mountains+history appalachia

Chinese firecrackers provided plenty of Christmas joking

2009-12-10T05:00:00.001-05:00

Clarence Nixon wrote of his father’s store in his understanding book, Possum Trot, "We stocked up with fruit in December, and I still think of Christmas when I smell oranges in the country."

The South was a land of deep sentimentality. Family ties were close, and the hard years following the war tended to knit them even more securely. Christmas was a time a family re-dedication and a season of erasing old and irritating scars of discord. It was a period for visiting and feasting.

Celebration of the holiday was the one institution which came through the war unchanged except for the matter of simplification. Until 1915 rural observance was uncontaminated by commercialization. Simple gifts were passed around, and these, as a matter of course, came from the country store.

Much of the masculine taste in celebration ran to boisterous forms of expression. For more than fifty years the liquor barrel furnished ample cheer for all customers who could rake together enough cash or stretch their credit to buy a quart of Kentucky or Maryland bourbon, or a half-gallon of North Carolina corn. A quart of whisky was admittedly a vigorous start toward a glorious Christmas season.

For the temperate, however, a package of firecrackers was enough holiday amusement. One little nickel package of Chinese firecrackers provided plenty of Christmas joking and pranking. A favorite stunt was to explode the tiny cylinders at the heel of some humorless deacon, with the hope of starting him into cussing. Another was setting them off near a pair of mules in a storehouse yard. The number of runaways made many a good celebrant regret there was such a thing as Christmas. But there was the more pleasant aspect to this form of amusement.

Thousands of country children were happier waking up in a cold farmhouse on Christmas morning because Santa Claus had not forgotten the firecrackers and Roman candles. There were also torpedoes, which exploded with thunderous repercussions when dashed on the floor underneath girls’ feet, and Roman candles gave great gusto to the Christmas celebration.

They lifted the holiday spirit high into the air in sputtering balls of varicolored fire followed by sulfurous tails which outdid Halley’s Comet in the eyes of the backwoods cotton farmers. Sometimes they were used in sham battles, which generally wound up unhappily. But all in all, there was something in the violent cracking of fireworks that gave zest to Christmas week, and which marked the completion of one crop year and the beginning of another.

'A Little Bit of Santa Claus'
From Pills, Petticoats, and Plows: The Southern Country Store
By Thomas D. Clark
Reprinted in A Kentucky Christmas, University Press of
Kentucky Press, 2003

Christmas+in+Appalachia chinese+firecrackers appalachia appalachian+culture appalachian+mountains+history

They did have little dolls for the girls

2009-12-09T05:00:00.001-05:00

"Late fall we'd start getting up the wood for the winter. You couldn't believe it would take that much wood. You would see wood from here, well, say a hundred feet long. You would think, well, golly, that's a lot of wood! But it didn't take long to get rid of that much wood in the winter. The winters were rough and it was cold back then.

"Oak was our better wood. We had plenty of wood and plenty of water.

"We had a two-story home. We had one large bedroom, Daddy and Mother's bedroom, downstairs. We had a large kitchen, a large living room, and they called the other room at that time, a parlor. That was for guests or visitors. There was the parlor. When the preacher came, he goes in the parlor. Then, upstairs we had four bedrooms. The two rooms downstairs on either side had fireplaces.

"We had a fireplace on the south side and one across on the north side across the hall, and we had a large hall. We had a large hall that came through with some closets and then the upstairs. No heat upstairs, but the heat would come up from the fireplaces. I mean, the heat goes up.

"It was colder, but we used featherbeds. You would sleep on a featherbed. One time Mother came up, it was real cold in the winter, and put a featherbed over us for the cover over top. Golly, you would just perspire!

"My brother and I would open a window. When it would be zero, we would crack a window. We always liked a little fresh air. We were used to it. We didn’t know about all of these new-- modern things then. It's what you were used to, I imagine.

"There was a lot of snow. There's nowhere to go, but you could get on a horse and go to the store, the country store, which was something like a mile away, if you had to. But you could get along fine. We would get our big fireplaces going. Had apples. Now, we would eat apples. We would always have a basket of apples in the living room. We’d all eat apples. Maybe before bedtime have an apple, peel an apple and have some apple.

"The children didn't have many things to do, but they would get together and have candy pullings in the winter, and games, different kinds of games. The ladies would get together in the winter time and make quilts; they’d have quiltings; they had the frames that had the spikes in them. They'd make some beautiful quilts.

"But the boys didn't have too much a-going. When the New River would freeze over we would go skating. We would skate on top of ice. It would stay frozen over for maybe two months! The river was almost in sight of where we lived. It was about one-fourth of a mile to New River. It starts up in Ashe county; they call it the head of the river. You can step over it two feet there. Today you could go there. The north fork of New River starts in Ashe County. It sure does.

"Mother would have something special, cook up something special for Christmas, like cakes. We always had cake. For Christmas you didn't get much. There wasn't much. One little country store close by. There were more in the county, but they had nothing for children. We would get some oranges (they had oranges for Christmas) and some candy. I know stick candy. They had these boxes of stick candy, different flavors. But we thought it was great, whatever we got! We didn't know about these other things like they have nowadays. Oranges were something special. Of course we had apples. You know, apples, oranges, candy.

Lenci doll on display at the Angela Peterson Doll and Miniature Museum, High Point, NC. Tag in case reads: "Lenci Doll Circa 1920. Designed by Madame de Scavini. The name "Lenci" came from a pet name given to Madame de Scavini by her husband. The designer was known for the mischievous look in the eyes of her dolls."

"We had plenty to eat, and we would get something to wear for Christmas, like a new shirt or a new pair of pants or a new pair of shoes. One neighbor (his name was John Eller), made my brother and me a little mill, and it had a crank on it. You would turn it by hand.

"You would take it down along the creek, and we would run sand through it and have a lot of fun with that. We would use sand. It was like a little gristmill, or like you were grinding some kind of grain. We thought that was wonderful.

"We had no toys; however, there were dolls. As I remember they did have little dolls for the girls. My father and mother would get the girls a little doll."

---excerpt from oral history by Gwynn Jones
(b. 1908 in Warrensville, NC)

Interviewed June 22, 1976
Southern Highlands Research Center
Louis D. Silveri Oral History Collection,
D. H. Ramsey Library Special Collections,
University of North Carolina at Asheville
Online at http://toto.lib.unca.edu/findingaids/oralhistory/SHRC/jones_gwynn.pdf

The Belsnickle: definitely NOT Santa Claus

2009-12-08T05:00:00.000-05:00

Up until the second World War, if a Shenandoah Valley family was a member of the Lutheran or Reformed church, the children could expect a Christmas Eve visit from the Belsnickle. The practice might even go well beyond just one evening, running for nearly two weeks, starting a week before Christmas and continuing until New Year.

The Belsnickle was not Santa Claus! He was ugly and he frightened the children. He typically wore a costume made from stockings and burlap or paper bags. In many cases, Belsnicklers used charcoal to blacken their faces – the ultimate goal being to disguise yourself enough as to prevent identification.

Group of belsnickles from Pendleton County, WV. Early 20th century, no date.

The Belsnickle traveled from house to house brandishing his switches in the air. He would use these switches to whip naughty children. To good children the Belsnickle would hand out cakes or candies. These “gifts” were thrown upon the floor, but if a child were to try to recover them in the presence of the Belsnickler, the child would quickly receive a “whack” on the backside with a whip.

It was the custom for the Belsnickle to receive a treat at each house. While not welcome in all homes, in most instances, Belsnicklers were indeed invited in, and after unmasking and identifying themselves, were rewarded with refreshments of doughnuts, molasses cakes, coffee, lemonade, or cider.

Nor were alchoholic libations uncommon. In which case, as the Belsnickle proceeded on this visits, he no doubt became more and more oblivious to his behavior and the severity of his whippings.

By the early 20th century Belsnicklers usually traveled in groups – much like trick-or-treaters of contemporary times – from farm to farm, “making merriment as they went, a boisterous, noisy, and happy group.” Starting shortly after dark, the practice would end long before midnight.

Jesus, Jesus, Rest Your Head

2009-12-07T05:00:00.000-05:00

Jesus, Jesus, rest your head.
You have got a manger bed.
All the evil folk on earth,
Sleep in feathers at their birth.

(But) Jesus, Jesus, rest your head.
You have got a manger bed.

Have you heard about our Jesus?
Have you heard about his fate?
How his mother came to the stable,
On that Christmas Eve so late?

Winds were blowing.
Cows were lowing.
Stars were glowing, glowing, glowing.

Jesus, Jesus, rest your head.
You have got a manger bed.

---Kentucky folk carol; collected by John Jacob Niles: 1912-1913 and 1932-1934

John Jacob Niles (1892-1980) began collecting Appalachian folk songs and composing music as a Kentucky teenager. In 1925, Niles published his first song collection---"Impressions of a Negro Camp Meeting"--- and in 1933, he toured the U.S. and Europe with Marion Kerby to critical acclaim. He released his first album for RCA's Red Seal label, "Early American Ballads" in 1938.

"Like a psalmodist, he intoned his verses in an ethereal chant which the angels carried aloft to the Glory seat. When he sang of Jesus, Mary and Joseph they became living presences. A sweep of the hand and the dulcimer gave forth magical sounds which caused the stars to gleam more brightly, which peopled the hills and meadows with silvery figures and made the brooks to babble like infants. We would sit there long after his voice had faded out, talking of Kentucky where he was born, talking of the Blue Ridge mountains."

Henry Miller, Plexus: Book 2 of the Rosy Crucifixion, pp. 366-367, Grove Press, 1965

Sources: johnjacobniles.com/articles.htm
www.pbs.org/wnet/americanmasters/dylan/dylan_niles.html

Christmas+in+Appalachia Christmas+carols John+Jacob+Niles appalachia appalachian+culture appalachian+mountains+history

Listen Here: weekly Appalachian History podcast posts today

2009-12-06T17:18:00.000-05:00

We post a new episode of Appalachian History weekly podcast every Sunday. You can start listening right away by clicking the podcast icon over on the left side of your screen. If you'd rather grab the show off itunes for later listening, click here.

We open today's show with an appreciation for Sled Day, the first of December. Wherever winter and snow were synonymous, that was the day when sleds of all sorts were readied and sleigh bells were made to shine. Just over sixty years ago there were real sounds to winter: steel-shod runners squeaked over the packed snow and the almost constant music of sleigh bells filled the crisp air everywhere. Winter was a season of bells.

We’ll pause in between things to catch up on a Calendar of Events in the region this week, with special attention paid to events that emphasize heritage and local color.

"That’s a god-damned lie!" cried out Joel Elkins as John Amis spoke to those gathered in the Clay County court. He reached behind the door, grabbed William Strong’s gun, purposely loaded and placed there, then shot and killed Amis. Accounts differ as to why John Amis was in that Kentucky court on August 5, 1807, and why Elkins shot him.

Next up, Barbara Ellen Smith shares the story of her Aunt Helen and Uncle Hez of Big Ridge, VA. Seems the aunt, desperate for a solution, had been willing to try what was then considered a risky surgery on their handicapped daughter, who died as a result. The woman’s husband raged at her for months afterwards, but his furious temper drove her to find a novel way to restore peace to their home. You might call this a ghost story with a twist.

When George A. Mosel was a young teen in Steubenville, OH, he had enough pocket money one Christmas that he decided to buy his mother what seemed to him a grand gift. Naturally he headed for Spies Jewelry Store, which was the equivalent of Tiffany’s in his mother’s opinion. He hadn’t learned yet that even the best stores have clunker items tucked off in the corner, just waiting for a bright eyed young lad with not quite enough money to afford the good stuff.

“The sound of its popping was quite like that of a firecracker. It was much less expensive than a firecracker and far less dangerous,” Herbert Lamont Pugh tells us. He’s describing the uses of a dried hog bladder on Christmas Day, as he recounts his boyhood holiday memories from early 20th century Batesville VA.

We’ll wrap things up with a short oral history from Elizabeth Daingerfield’s Aunt Cynthy “I don’t reckon you want to see my quilts, do you?” asks the Kentucky farmwife. “I reckon you’ve seen a sight better, but they are always new to me. Thar's hist’ry in ‘em, and memory.” She sheds light on the differences between piece quilting and patch quilting.

And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Library of Appalachia we'll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music by E.C. and Orna Ball as they play ‘Joy to the World’ in a live 1978 Christmas eve performance on Rugby Virginia’s WKSK.

So, call your old blue-tick hound up on the porch, fire up your corn-cob pipe, and settle in for a dose of Appalachian History.

Dashing through the snow

2009-12-04T05:00:00.001-05:00

Stephens' "Book of the Farm" (1840) says "Winter is the especial season of man – our own season. It is the intellectual season during which the spirit of man enables him most to triumphantly display his superiority over the beasts each day that perish." In winter, the countryman plays a conqueror who sets forth each day to battle the elements, and winning, returns to the rewards of his harvests. It’s a daily game, beyond the ken of the city-dweller whose comings and goings lack the flavor of make-believe.

The coming of winter in the old days was heralded by a "banking-up season," when the north sides of houses and barns were stacked with proper insulation. Corn stalks, hay, leaves, or sawdust shouldered the base of the farmhouse against winter’s blast; cow dung did the job at the barn.

The first of December was Sled Day wherever winter and snow were synonymous; that was the day when sleds of all sorts were readied and sleigh bells were made to shine. Just over sixty years ago there were real sounds to winter: steel-shod runners squeaked over the packed snow and the almost constant music of sleigh bells filled the crisp air everywhere. Winter was a season of bells.

Time was when you could recognize a neighbor’s approach by the sound of his sleigh bells, even tell which neighbor it was. Some farmers made up their own sets of bells and others preferred to use inherited sets. For those who wished to buy, however, there were Swiss Pole chimes, Mikado chimes, and King Henry chimes; the Dexter Body Strap of twenty-four bells was a popular buy. At first, sleigh bells were made from two half-globes of metal soldered together, but one-piece bells were later cast and sold separately, ready for fastening to harness. A matched set cost about $1.50.

The reason for using bells on a sleigh was not only for merriment but primarily for safety. A sleigh was a silent vehicle and a fast one, which its driver often found the greatest difficulty in stopping. Furthermore, everyone wore ear muffs or some other sort of ear-covering in the early days, so that winter pedestrians were practically deaf. Just as lights and horns are now required on the highway, bells were once a “must” for all winter traffic.

"The Cracker Barrel"
by Eric Sloane
(Funk & Wagnalls, 1967)

appalachia appalachian+culture appalachian+mountains+history banking+up Eric+Sloane Sled+Day sleigh+bells winter

There wasn't a prouder boy in all Steubenville when I gave mother that hat pin

2009-12-03T05:00:00.000-05:00

As long as I can remember there has been a Spies Jewelry Store in Steubenville, OH. The one I am thinking of now was on Market Street across from Beall & Steele's Drug Store. Spies was not ordinarily important to a boy, since it sold only a lot of worthless stuff like solid gold breast pins, shiny diamonds and jeweled combs.

Came a Christmas when I was in the money and I decided to go all out and buy mother a really fancy present instead of giving her one of those fat old pin cushions we made in school, or a button hook with genuine pearl handle for 10 cents from Billy Beerbowers.

By "in the money" I mean I had 75 cents to blow in on mother. The word "Spies" came to mind. In my family it was a solid gold word, denoting the very best. With nose pressed to glass, I appraised the costly wares in the window. Inside, everything was very dignified and quiet, like in church, as fine ladies and gentlemen fingered the watches and brooches.

My head scarcely came to the counter top, but finally Mr. Spies saw me. He was a pudgy little man, and I can still see his disembodied head peering at me thru heavy spectacles. My eye had singled out a tray of hat pins in the window. It was brought out. Some of the hat pins were modestly jeweled with tiny seed pearls, a few with fine filigree work, others plain ovals waiting to be monogrammed.

But one alone took my eye-it boasted a magnificent blazing ruby, as big as a robin's egg, set in a fancy frame. I was sure it was absolutely genuine. Spies never sold imitations, did they? I asked the price. $1.25. The tag was old and shopworn.

I gazed longingly at the hat pin as Mr. Spies momentarily waited, then he said, "You chuss keep on looking, son, I'll be back". Customers came and went. The minutes melted into almost an hour, when the proprietor no doubt began to think about his supper. I told him I wanted this pin but had only 75 cents to pay for it. He suggested cheaper ones, but I said, "I want this very one. It's for my mother and she won't think it's good unless it comes from your store."

Mr. Spies glowed. He lived for words like that since he was proud of his reputation. His daughter and helper (Miss Lulu or Miss Marie) saw me and whispered to her father. He came around in front of the counter, and saw all of me for the first time.

"You Chimmie Mosel's boy, yes?" he asked.

"Yes sir, but how about the pin?"

"Vell, I tell you vhat. You chuss give me the 75 cents and take the hat pin. Here, I put it in a fine box for you with my name on it."

There wasn't a prouder boy in all Steubenville when I gave mother that hat pin with the blazing ruby on top. She wore it many times, mostly at night, to visit my grandmother or Aunt Emma Ewing, but never to church where there were very many people around.

It never occurred to me to wonder why.

Under the Buckeye Trees, by George A. Mosel, publ. Hamilton I. Newell Inc., Amherst, Mass., 1962

Take it outside Christmas morning and jump on it with both feet

2009-12-02T05:00:00.000-05:00

Three remaining parts of the hog deserve brief mention. One, the tail, is a most delectable morsel when roasted in an oven or over an open fire.

Two, the hog's spleen, sometimes called the milt (German), is a tasty delicacy when roasted and sprinkled with salt. Immediately after its removal, along with the viscera en masse, the spleen often was broiled on a hot rock taken from the hog-killing fire. Eating of spleens thus prepared was one of the perquisites of hog-killers.

Finally there was the hog's bladder. It was a common practice during my youth and in my hillbilly community, for people to inflate hogs' bladders and hang them up in the attic or smokehouse to dry. A bladder-blowing tube was needed for this. The classic procedure for making a tube was to punch the pith from a section of sassafras bush by means of a piece of hay-baling wire. Some simply used a short length of dead ragweed stalk.

Anyway, the tube, whatever its origin, was introduced into the opening at the neck of the bladder. As much air as it could hold was blown in, and the bladder neck was tied off with a string. Considerable shrinkage would occur as the bladder dried.

However, by warming it over an open fire or stove the contained air would expand and produce a tensely inflated balloon. The conventional thing to do with this used to be to take it out of doors on Christmas morning, after distending it completely by warming, lay it down and jump on it with both feet.

The sound of its popping was quite like that of a firecracker. It was much less expensive than a firecracker and far less dangerous. Incidentally, Christmas and not the Fourth of July was the time for setting off firecrackers in my boyhood community.

Although my home was less than 20 miles from that of the author of the Declaration of Independence, we paid little attention to the Fourth of July except as the day by which we tried to have our growing corn "laid by," i.e., the deadline for the last cultivation of the corn.

---Herbert Lamont Pugh
born in Batesville VA, 1895
author of "Navy Surgeon," online at www.archive.org/stream/navysurgeon027128mbp/navysurgeon027128mbp_djvu.txt

John Amis starts a feud with the North Forkers

2009-12-01T05:00:00.000-05:00

(part 2 of 2)

In April 1806 John Amis, who lived along the Kentucky River’s Middle Fork, went elk hunting in the area where his cattle were wintering.

He discovered some cattle from North Fork farms grazing in what he thought were grass fields reserved for him and his cohorts. Amis proceeded to stab about twenty head of the North Fork cattle and drive them into the water where they sank and died.

North Fork cattleman William Strong was outraged and immediately sought outside help against Amis’ actions.

“The Strongs sent to Prestonburg for General White of that place, it was not General White of Goose Creek,” recounted Henry Duff to missionary Dr. John J. Dickey in the late 1890’s. “I am sure the Strongs appealed to the Governor for arms and ammunition, and the Governor asked White to help or gave him authority to help them.”

And General Hugh White’s reply?

A local poet of the time, Cana Baker, quotes White in ‘Cattle Wars:’

You have got yourselves in trouble
Get out if you can,
I'll neither come to your assistance
Nor send a single man

Upon hearing of this, the North Forkers, led by Strong and including Joel Elkins and 12 men from the Stacey, Davidson, Lewis, Bolling, Eversole, Callahan, Cornett, Lewis, and Begley klans, went to Amis’ house.

Amis wasn’t home, but his wife, Kate Bolling Amis, was there. The North Fork cattlemen shot the Amis horse and took twenty head of cattle from his farm to compensate themselves for the cattle that Amis had destroyed. Peter Stacy reportedly butted Kate in the face with his gun as the cattle were being rustled.

They took Jugie and Frogie
Burnt three fodder stacks
And broke some rifle guns

“As they started back Amis' Negro man followed them supposed to have been sent by Amis' wife, for the purpose of shooting at them,” relates John Lewis on July 27, 1898 to Rev. John J. Dickey, who recorded it in his diary. “At a turn of the road Peter Stacey concealed himself and as the Negro came in sight fired and struck his head. Stacey broke the gun, they brought back what cattle they could find.

“Then Amis solicitated a company of 30 men and started to the North Fork for revenge.”

John Gilbert, Amis’ brother-in-law, helped lead the group.

There was one Capt. John Gilbert
As I have heard them say
He fed his men on run down venison
Till Porter ran away
(Porter, a dog that ran over to the other side)

John Lewis continues the story: “William Callahan brought news to the North Forkers that they were coming and assembled at the mouth of Lick Branch concealing themselves in the ivy on the top of the cliff opposite the mouth of the branch, as Amis' men came across the river. William Callahan fired at Amis and missed him. There was a general firing in which several horses were killed and Nicholson and Cox were wounded.

Nicholson hid behind a log
And hid just like a fox
And presently came shivering & shimming along
This poor half drowned Cox

“Amis spurred his horse under the cliff to protect himself from the bullets. John Gilbert rode up the bank to the company and they took him prisoner. Some of the party wanted to kill him but Strong saved his life. [other accounts claim Strong said ‘Shoot him!’]

John the Captain did miss killing
All met with homely fare
And he who came in last of all
Is apt to lose his share

“The plan was for Strong and Callahan to shoot Amis first which was to be the sign of attack. Strong was the best rifle shot in the county. Callahan shot before Strong, which prevented Strong from getting a bead on him. Callahan was accused of treachery for this act.

“The North Forkers had 18 men, William Strong, (afterwards a preacher), Peter Stacey, James Lewis, William Callahan, John Bolling, Samuel Davidson and Jesse Bowling.”

The Middle Forkers retreated to Cutshin and fortified, leaving portholes, expecting the enemy to follow them.

Eventually, they all agreed to end the fighting and settle the dispute in court. However, on the first day of trial, August 5, 1807, John Amis was shot dead by Joel Elkins as he was testifying from the witness chair.

“It appears from the Circuit Court Records that the Whites had him killed over the contract they signed with John Amis, who then owned the salt mine,” states genealogist Bonnie Miller. “This is how the Whites came to get the salt mine from John Amis.” Joel Elkins was employed at the Goose Creek Salt Works co-owned by John White and John Amis.

The inability of the militia to be able to react in a timely manner and the failure to maintain law and order during the months before the trial had pointed to the urgent need for a local constabulary, organized through a smaller county structure with a sheriff.

Thus, the Kentucky legislature established Clay County on December 2, 1806, from parts of Madison, Floyd, and Knox Counties. Having local law enforcement did not help maintain law and order, however: descendants of these combatants figured prominently in subsequent feuds that occurred in Breathitt, Perry and Clay counties, leaving a bloody heritage for future generations.

Sources: www.oblevins.com/Blevins/d0024/g0000077.html
http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~bloodhound/feudsofclaycoky.html
www.owsleykyhist.net/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=572
http://boards.ancestrylibrary.com/surnames.eversole/176/mb.ashx
Dr. John J. Dickey Diary, Fleming County, Ky. Recorded in the 1870's and beyond. Reprinted in Kentucky Explorer, Volume 10, No 6 -November, 1995

John Amis settles on Kentucky River's South Fork

2009-11-30T05:00:00.000-05:00

"That’s a god-damned lie!" cried out Joel Elkins as John Amis spoke to those gathered in the Clay County court. He reached behind the door, grabbed William Strong’s gun, purposely loaded and placed there, then shot and killed Amis.

Accounts differ as to why John Amis was in that Kentucky court on August 5, 1807, and why Elkins shot him.

“Judge John Amis, born in North Carolina, was of the first generation born in America, and was a successful lawyer, was Circuit Judge in Kentucky, and was shot by an outlaw while holding the first Circuit Court ever held in Clay County,” claims the 1891 volume “Biographical and Historical Memoirs of Western Arkansas.”

“He was killed at the first session of court in Clay County in 1807 by Joel Elkins, whom he had partly reared,” recalled John Eversole, a Manchester, KY resident, in 1898.

“It is said that a peddler had been killed, and Amis and this man were accused of the crime. The man told Amis that if he swore against him he would kill him.

“Whether he testified against him or not I do not know, but the man came into the courthouse and shot Amis' brains out, in the presence of the court.”

More likely than these two interpretations, however, is that John Amis was on trial for provoking a ‘cattle war’ the previous year, between a group of farmers living on the Kentucky River’s North Fork and farmers on the Red Bird, a branch of the South Fork.

Oneida, KY as seen from the area where Red Bird and Goose Creeks merge forming the South Fork of the Kentucky River., c. 1905-10.

Amis had grown up in Rogersville, TN. His father Thomas had built a house at the mouth of Big Creek River, about four miles west of Rogersville. When the father died in 1797 he deeded to John “the tract of land he now lives on adjoining the town of Rogersville and lying the east side of the main road, also the lower part of my six hundred and forty acre tract of land to be laid off by a line to run square with the upper end of the above tract he now lives on, to him and his heirs forever.”

It didn’t take long for the 24 year old John to run into trouble. By 1802 a ‘fieri facias’ (a writ ordering a levy on the belongings of a debtor to satisfy the debt) had been issued against him in “Richard Mitchell vs. John Amis (Hawkins County).”

About 1800 he had moved with his wife Kate and their baby son into Madison/Clay County Kentucky, presumably to escape that debt and get a fresh start. John sold much of his land in Tennessee to purchase a partnership in the Goose Creek Salt Works, near Manchester, where the northern section of Goose Creek joins the Red Bird River to form the South Fork of the Kentucky River.

So vital was salt to frontier life and trade that Daniel Boone had offered to re-route the Wilderness Road to pass the Goose Creek salt works. (He did not get the approval, however, and the area had no suitable roads for some time.) Clay County went on to become the leading salt producer in the state during the nineteenth century. The struggle behind the scenes to control the industry was fierce.

“On August 12, 1806 John White made good to John Amis the title of one fourth of 375 acres including the Goose Creek Salt Works’ lower works, White reserving for himself the privilege of ‘wood and water’ for one furnace,” says historian Mary Verhoeff in ‘The Kentucky River Navigation.’ “Two acres of the most eligible and advantageous land of the tract was to be reserved for mansion houses upon which neither party could dig for water without the consent of the other.

“Within one year the reservation was to be equally divided between White and Amis. The tract of land, including the salt works, had on June 22 of the same year been sold to Amis by John Crook for the sum of $2,300, one half of which was to be paid in cash and the remainder in ‘good salable salt at two dollars per bushel.’ By the deed one half of the buildings and half the garden owned by Crook were secured to John White.”

At the same time John Amis was establishing himself on the south side of the Kentucky River, William Strong and a group of Virginia farmers and cattle ranchers were setting down roots on the North Fork of the river.

"About the year 1800 or 1801, a party was organized in Scott Co., VA, to come to Kentucky,” relates Mrs. J. C. Hurst in 'Strong Family in Kentucky .' ”This party was composed of Edward Callahan and family ~ William Strong and family ~ Daniel Davidson and three sons Samuel, John, and Robert, with their families ~ also Roger and Robin Cornett. Some reports say that the Cornetts came a year or two previous to this time. The above-mentioned parties brought along with them their livestock ~ household goods ~ slaves and other possessions.

"William Strong, Samuel Davidson and the two Cornetts had married daughters of Edward Callahan. After arriving in Kentucky the parties settled on the North Fork of the Kentucky River at and near the mouth of Grapevine Creek in (current day) Perry County.

"William Strong acquired a tract of land on the opposite side of the river from the mouth of Grapevine. It extended from near what is now Chavies down the river so as to include Strong's Branch. On this land he erected a log building where he made his home for some eight or ten years. He, as a deputy assessor, made the first assessment of all land and personal property on the North Fork, which was then embraced in the new county of Clay.”

Trouble was about to brew between John Amis and William Strong.

(end of part 1 of 2)

sources: “The road to poverty: the making of wealth and hardship in Appalachia,” by Dwight B. Billings, Kathleen M. Blee, Cambridge University Press, 2000
"Strong Family in Kentucky," by Mrs. J. C. Hurst, Lexington, KY, privately published, 1960
www.combs-families.org/combs/marriage/dd.txt
http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~brockfamily/ChiefRedBird.html
www.bellcountypubliclibraries.org/crm/ky/knox/decker.html
The Kentucky River navigation By Mary Verhoeff, Filson Club Publications/John P. Morton & Co, Louisville, 1917
http://home.fuse.net/jerry.johnson/FamilyHistory/JohnsonFamilyHistory1.HTM
www.oblevins.com/Blevins/d0024/g0000077.html

No weekly 'Listen Here' podcast today

2009-11-29T07:53:00.001-05:00

Closed for Thanksgiving vacation break; regular posts will continue tomorrow.

The largest open surface granite quarry in the world

2009-11-27T08:24:00.006-05:00

"The principal outcrops of granite in Surry County are found in the northern part of the county near the Virginia line in the vicinity of Mount Airy, the county seat. The granite is exposed in flat surfaced masses in rather an advanced stage of decay immediately to the north and south of Mount Airy where quarrying on an extensive scale has been conducted for some years.

"The North Carolina Granite Corporation's Mount Airy quarries, located less than 1 mile northeast of Mount Airy, were opened in 1889, and the first shipment of stone from them was made in July 1890. The total shipment of granite from these quarries from 1890, when 135 carloads were shipped, to 1904 when 1,282 carloads were shipped, was 13,232 carloads.

"Quarrying is confined to a 40 acre tract of continuously exposed granite over the slope and top of a long hill which rises about 125 feet above the valley bottom. The company holds more than 1,200 acres additional of ground over which granite is exposed.

"Quarrying has extended over practically the entire 40 acre tract, the greatest depth of working being about 30 feet. The rock is a biotite granite of very light gray, nearly white color and medium grain. The biotite is not, except in one opening, equally distributed through the granite, but is entirely absent from some parts of it, is uniformly distributed through others, and shows a marked tendency to segregation in still other parts.

"Quartz feldspar areas of extreme whiteness, ranging from several inches to as many feet in diameter, in which biotite is entirely lacking or represented by only a few shreds, are common through the granite.

"This unequal distribution of the characterizing accessory (biotite) renders the granite in places less uniform in color than might be desirable for some purposes. The granite that has a uniform color is most pleasing in appearance and forms excellent and desirable stone for all uses except for monumental stock, for which the contrast of color between the cut and polished faces is not great enough.

"The company is adequately equipped with all the necessary machinery and appliances for quarrying and handling the stone. In 1905 a large stone cutting plant was erected. The stone is carried from the quarries to the railway cars by a system of inclined ways run by gravity. The limit in size of dimension stone is the capacity of the railroad cars. Blocks weighing 20 tons are reported to have been frequently shipped from the quarries.

"The product is marketed over a large territory, chiefly in States south of New York. It is used for general building and paving purposes. The quarry waste is utilized for roofs on cotton mills, macadam on streets and roads, ballast along the railroads, and granolithic work.

"All the stone used in the dry dock at Newport News, VA and the concreting material used in the Fort Caswell fortifications, Cape Fear River, NC, came from the Mount Airy quarries.

"The method of quarrying the granite consists in drilling a hole about 3 inches in diameter perpendicular to the surface to a depth equal to the thickness of the stone desired, usually 5 to 7 feet, then firing a succession of light blasts.

"The operation is begun by discharging about one fourth of a pound of dynamite in the bottom of the hole; this small charge pulverizes the stone slightly and forms a small chamber. The tamping is then cleaned out and hole is recharged in the same manner; this time however, with about a handful of powder.

"Small charges of powder are exploded in the hole until a small seam has been started at the bottom extending parallel with the surface. To determine if this has been done a small steel rod bent at the lower end and sharpened to a point is passed up and down the hole until the crack is located. After the crack has once been started the charges are gradually increased until it extends a distance of 75 feet or more from the hole.

Aerial view of the North Carolina Granite Quarry, Mt Airy, NC.

"The use of explosives is then discontinued, and a watertight connection to the hole is made by fastening a piece of iron pipe in the hole with melted sulphur. To this connection is attached an ordinary force pump and water is pumped into the crevice formed by the explosives. The crevice is extended by continuous pumping for a few hours until finally it covers an area of perhaps 2 acres and the pressure finds vent by tearing the rock out to thin edges on the side of the hill.

"This method is used in the warmest weather when the surface of the rock is naturally somewhat expanded and more raised. It is very doubtful whether it could be employed during cold weather; experience shows that the hotter the weather the easier the work.

"Sheets of stone covering areas of 1 to 2 acres from 6 to 8 feet thick close to the hole are easily raised by this method. It is often found necessary to clean off a ledge of stone made in this manner before attempting to form or raise another sheet on the surface below. For this reason the quarry covers considerably more area than one having natural seams ---horizontal sheeting."

source: ‘Granites of Southeastern Atlantic States,’ in Bulletin - United States Geological Survey, Issue 426, 1910, pp. 148-151