Blogger Template by Blogcrowds

5/31/07

Busy as a...

They’ll have plenty of time to regroup during the slow months of July and August, but right now it’s the end of the spring honey flow, and apiarists throughout Appalachia are knee-deep in the golden goo.

Beekeeping is an age old, and surprisingly little changed, ritual. Here’s an early 1930s ad for AG Woodman Co. that could’ve easily appeared in Grit newspaper or the Farmer’s Almanac of that era. The beekeepers reading this ad would have been almost as familiar with the smokers, supers and frames we use today as they would’ve been with bee equipment from 75 years prior to their own time. That’s because the really big innovations that moved bee culture from hunting to cultivating all clustered around the 1850s & 1860s.

The “father of modern beekeeping,” Rev LL Langstroth, published “The Hive and the Honeybee” in 1853. In it he explained how his patented movable frame hive took advantage of the principles of Bee Space. That "magical space" is defined as "greater than 1/4 inch, but smaller than 3/8 inch", and is recognized by the bees as OPEN space for occupation by bees only. Any spaces smaller or larger are subject to having comb built in them.

By utilizing this new finding, Langstroth was able to design a hive where the bees did not seal parts together by burr comb, hence allowing frames to be removed one by one, inner covers not sealed down to frame tops, and bee walk space on the tops of frames that had another hive body with frames on top of the lower hive body. A Langstroth hive filled with bees could be disassembled, each part inspected for status or disease, and reassembled without damage to comb or bees. This could NOT be done with any other "housing" for bees that existed in 1851!

The honey flavors of Appalachia draw from an amazingly broad list of nectar sources: alfalfa, apple blossom, aster, basswood, black locust, blackberry, buckwheat, Canadian thistle, clover, sweet clover, white dutch clover, corn, dandelion, goldenrod, Japanese knotweed, milkweed, paulownia, prickly ash, pussy willow, red maple, redbud, Russian sage, sourwood, starhorn sumac, sunflower, tree of heaven, tulip poplar, and witch hazel.

But don’t go looking in the supermarket for some such construct as “Appalachian Honey.” Commercial producers often mix honey imported from Canada, Argentina, Mexico, Brazil, and elsewhere to achieve the final “genuine pure natural honey” you see labeled in stores. Identifying the regional flavors in commercial honey is further complicated by the fact that apiaries break down their product into three general categories of white honey, extra light amber, or light amber, usually without regard to the nectar source (clover honey & orange blossom being two obvious exceptions.) Best to keep a few hives out back of the place and literally taste the micro-flora of your own little piece of Appalachia.


sources: "The Hive and the Honeybee" LL Langstroth, 1853
www.ams.usda.gov/fv/mncs/honey.pdf
http://tinyurl.com/2evare

5/30/07

"Poverty pays unless you're poor" -Don West

Home-Coming (1946)

And I've come back to you,
Mountain Earth--
Come to laugh
And sorrow
And sing--

To dig my songs up
From your soil
And spin a melody
Of corn blades,
Top-fodder,
Crab-grass,
And a clean-plowed furrow.

I've come to sing and grope--
With a people who know
Deep songs,
Who stumble up
A long crooked road....

I've come because
Your great silent agony
Echoed everywhere

And the weary foot-steps
Of my old Dad
Still sound upon the mountain
Where his sweat dripped down
To water your dirt....

Don West achieved success as one of the foremost southern regional poets of the twentieth century. He was at different times a labor organizer, political radical, preacher, progressive educator, and outspoken spokesperson for human equality in the generation before the civil rights movement. Although he is best known for his literary works, West was also an effective proponent of the Social Gospel, embraced by some of the South's most dedicated religious reformers.

Don West, 1931Born in 1906 in Devil's Hollow, near Ellijay in Gilmer County, Donald L. West grew to young adulthood in the north Georgia mountains. The eldest son of a farmer, he took pride in the independent spirit that had made his forebears nonconformists who opposed slavery in the antebellum years. This heritage of independence expressed itself in West's career, during which he often found himself at odds with the folkways and beliefs of the communities in which he lived and worked. Throughout his life he remained committed to a progressive view of ethnic and racial harmony, which linked him with his personal family history.

In 1964 West and his wife helped to open the Appalachian South Folklife Center at Pipestem, West Virginia, where West worked until his death in 1992.

Source: http://www.georgiaencyclopedia.org/nge/Article.jsp?id=h-2569&hl=y

5/29/07

The Legend of Uktena

"Long ago -- hilahiyu jigesv -- when the Sun became angry at the people on earth and sent a sickness to destroy them, the Little Men changed a man into a monster snake, which they called Uktena, "The Keen-Eyed," and sent him to kill her (the Sun). He failed to do the work, and the Rattlesnake had to be sent instead, which made the Uktena so jealous and angry that the people were afraid of him and had him taken up to Galunlati, to stay with the other dangerous things. He left others behind him, though, nearly as large and dangerous as himself, and they hide now in deep pools in the river and about lonely passes in the high mountains, the places the Cherokees call "Where the Uktena stays."

Chimney Tops in the Smokey MountainsThose who know say the Uktena is a great snake, as large around as a tree trunk, with horns on its head, and a bright blazing crest like a diamond on its forehead, and scales glowing like sparks of fire. It has rings or spots of color along its whole length, and can not be wounded except by shooting in the seventh spot from the head, because under this spot are its heart and its life. The blazing diamond is called Ulun'suti -- "Transparent" -- and he who can win it may become the greatest wonder worker of the tribe. But it is worth a man's life to attempt it, for whoever is seen by the Uktena is so dazed by the bright light that he runs toward the snake instead of trying to escape. Even to see the Uktena asleep is death, not to the hunter himself, but to his family.

Of all the daring warriors who have started out in search of the Ulun'suti only Aganunitsi ever came back successful. The East Cherokee still keep the one that he brought."

In his quest, Aganunitsi searches distant gaps and peaks in the Smokies before he "went on to Duniskwalgunyi, the Gap of the Forked Antler, and to the enchanted lake of Atagahi, and at each found monstrous reptiles, but he said they were nothing." Today we know Duniskwalgunyi as "Chimney Tops," one of the few instances of a bare rock summit in the Smokies.

sources: (From "Myths of the Cherokee" by James Mooney,
Nineteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology 1897-98, Part I. [1900])
www.answers.com/topic/chimney-tops

5/28/07

Happy Memorial Day!

5/25/07

US of Appalachia in paperback

The United States of Appalachia is now in paperback!

"Biggers has fashioned a masterpiece of popular history."
--Citizen-Times, North Carolina

“Jeff Biggers opens a new window on the complex history of the region called Appalachia. He takes a hard but affectionate look at both the myths and the facts, and what he finds is by turns sobering and thrilling. Drawing on the contradictions, layers, and range of what is known as mountain culture, he shows that nothing is quite what it seems, and that to understand American history it is essential to know Appalachian history. Biggers tells his story with verve and vivid detail, a story that will at once provoke and inspire.”
-- Robert Morgan, author of Gap Creek and Brave Enemies



Excerpt: The United States of Appalachia:
How Southern Mountaineers Brought Independence, Culture
and Enlightenment to America
(Shoemaker and Hoard)
by Jeff Biggers


INTRODUCTION

Appalachia needs no defense—it needs more defenders

Beyond its mythology as a quaint backwater in the American imagination, Appalachia also needs to be embraced for its historic role as a vanguard region in the United States.

Vanguard Appalachia? The very word--vanguard--conjures up a plethora of images, though none in Appalachia. It’s Thomas Jefferson at the Continental Congress in Philadelphia; it’s George Washington plotting his campaign at Yorktown. William Lloyd Garrison, the great New England abolitionist, was in the vanguard of the antislavery movement; his transcendentalist Boston neighbors stood in the forefront of nineteenth-century American literature. The New York Times, in an era of yellow journalism, typified the vanguard press; the Village Vanguard jazz club in New York City provided the nation’s music innovators with its hallowed stage. Martin Luther King, Jr., at the front of the civil rights movement, would be its modern political symbol. Expatriate Gertrude Stein might be its literary icon.

These are all reasonable examples, of course. And yet, would you believe me if I said an Appalachian preceded, led or influenced every one of these historic events or gatherings? That years before Jefferson completed the first draft of the Declaration of Independence, a backwoods settlement had already stunned the British Crown with its independence as a "dangerous example for the people of America." That an alliance of Southern Appalachian insurgents orchestrated their own attacks on British-led troops and turned the tide of the American Revolution. That a humble band of mountain preachers and writers published the first abolitionist newspaper in the nation and trained the radical Garrison. That a Cherokee mountaineer invented the first syllabary in modern times. That a back-hills young woman astounded the Boston literary circles in 1861, with the first American short story of working-class realism to be published in the Atlantic Monthly. That a young publisher from Chattanooga actually took over the New York Times and set its course for world acclaim. That the "high priestess of soul" put a spell on an audience at the Village Vanguard in 1959, with her blend of folk, jazz, gospel, country, and Bach-motif riffs she had learned in her Southern Appalachian hamlet. That a self-proclaimed "radical hillbilly" galvanized the shock troops of the civil rights movement and returned an African spiritual and labor song as its anthem. That the first American woman ever awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature was recognized for her family memoirs of West Virginia as much as for her literary contributions to the Far East.Jeff Biggers 'The United States of Appalachia'

Few regions in the United States confound and fascinate Americans like Appalachia. No other region has been so misrepresented by the mass media. Four paradoxical images have enjoyed incredible staying power: pristine Appalachia, the unspoiled mountains and hills along the Appalachian Trail, notwithstanding centuries of warfare, the wholesale destruction of the virgin forests by the timber industry, and the continual bane of strip mining; backwater Appalachia, home of the "strange land and peculiar people" in thousands of stories, novels, radio and TV programs and films, even though the region has produced some of the most important writers, artists, scientists, and politicians in the country; Anglo-Saxon Appalachia, once defined by Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary as a mountain region of "white natives," despite its role as a crossroads of indigenous cultures and vast immigrant and African American migrations for centuries; and pitiful Appalachia, the poster region of welfare and privation, the haggard faces greeting Charles Kuralt on CBS News on Christmas 1964, regardless of the tremendous wealth generated by the mountain range’s mineral resources, timber, and labor force in the mines, mills, and factories, and today’s tourist industry.

Untouched wilderness, poor white backward hillbillies.

In his best-selling analysis of the Buffalo Creek mining dam disaster in the 1970s, Everything in Its Path, eminent Yale sociologist Kai Erikson captured these stereotypes in an enduring judgment of Appalachian mountain culture: "It helps breed a social order without philosophy or art or even the rudest form of letters. It brings out whatever capacity for superstition and credulity a people come endowed with, and it encourages an almost reckless individualism."

For most readers, the blood-curdling acts of Appalachian man’s inhumanity to civilized man in the mountains, replete with inbred banjo pickers, violent feuds, moonshine, sexual deviltry, and miasmic gorges, have been put to rest. We are savvy enough to refrain from uttering "hillbilly" in mixed company. Li'l Abner, Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, Hee Haw, and The Andy Griffith Show are out; best-selling authors Barbara Kingsolver, Charles Frazier, Homer Hickam, and Robert Morgan are in. Sure, bizarre and offensive portrayals of Appalachians occasionally take place--during the research and writing of this book, CBS talent scouts combed the Southern mountains for corncob-piped rubes to participate in a proposed reality-TV show based on The Beverly Hillbillies; Abercrombie & Fitch dressed their manikins with a "West Virginia, It’s All Relative" T-shirt; and a horror film, Wrong Turn, featured a promo about "six young people who find themselves being hunted by inbred cannibals in the woods of West Virginia" -- but we’ve come a long way from the time of literary critic H. L. Mencken, who openly discussed reducing the birthrate of "inferior orders, for example, the hillbillies of Appalachia."

Still, the region’s fame or infamy has forced writers and critics to dwell on what has been done to Appalachia, rather than what Appalachia has contributed to the world. For every Deliverance and its sodomites, we are quick to recall The Waltons in our collective memory, or more recently, the best-selling novel and Oscar-nominated Cold Mountain film. Or, in more tragic terms, for every Private Lynndie England, the defamed cigarette-lipped scapegoat of the Abu Ghraib prison scandal in Iraq, who hails from Fort Ashby, West Virginia, there is a heroic Private Jessica Lynch, from Palestine, West Virginia, molded into the image of Sergeant Alvin York, the Tennessee mountaineer and America's most famous soldier.

Appalachia, as author Wallace Stegner once remarked about the American Southwest, has been more a process than a place. Some critics would even say it has become an invention of its own. Sociologist Allen Batteau once voiced a common feeling that "Appalachia is a creature of the urban imagination." Since the first Spanish conquistador was informed of its existence in 1528 by distant tribes in Florida, Appalachia has certainly bewildered its explorers and inhabitants with its boundaries, its mystical forests, and its meaning.

But Appalachia does exist, both as a range and as a region. Beyond any singular culture, however, any "real Appalachia," the region has also endowed the nation with an enduring and conflicting treasury of innovations and innovators. That treasury, though, is rarely viewed beyond the surface or a few honorable exemplars -- high lonesome singers and banjo players, black-faced coal miners, wizened front-porch storytellers -- trotted out every so often to represent the entire region.

Appalachian author Jim Wayne Miller once recounted an old tale about flat-boaters who traversed the Tennessee River at night, passing house after house with a "great fire burning, people dancing, always to the same fiddle tune." The boatmen didn’t realize they were caught in the "Boiling Pot" eddy, going in circles around the same house and its unchanging scene, unaware of the region’s greater wonders hidden in the forests like ginseng.

This is Appalachia’s best-kept secret: Far from being a "strange land with peculiar people," the mountains and hills have been a stage for some of the most quintessential and daring American experiences of innovation, rebellion, and social change.

This book is an attempt to get off that flatboat and enter another part of Appalachia, or, in fact, we should say Southern Appalachia, that mountain spine and its valley tributaries that trundle along the eastern and Southern states from northern Alabama to southwestern Pennsylvania. (The Appalachian Regional Commission actually defines Appalachia from southern New York to northern Mississippi.) It is not a definitive history of the region; instead, it is a portrait of a hidden Appalachia on the cutting edge, full of revolutionaries and pioneering stalwarts, abolitionists, laborers, journalists, writers, activists, and artists overlooked among the lineup of conventional Appalachian suspects.

Putting aside the banjos and pot-lickers, casting aside both the wearisome slurs and sentimental postcards, and taking a break from recounting the evil deeds done unto mountaineers, this book seeks to show how a remarkable procession of Appalachian-born innovators have gone from these hills, as Thomas Wolfe wrote, to find and shape the great America of our discovery.

Excerpted from The United States of Appalachia: How Southern Mountaineers Brought Independence, Culture, and Enlightenment to America by Jeff Biggers. Copyright © 2005 by Jeff Biggers. Reprinted by permission of Shoemaker & Hoard, Publishers, an imprint of Avalon Publishing Group, Inc.

For more information, see www.jeffbiggers.com


5/24/07

Hometown wisdom in time of war

http://history.amedd.army.mil/ANCWebsite/bradley.htm
Colonel Ruby Bradley (1907-2002) was the US Army’s most highly decorated nurse. She was born on a farm outside of Spencer, WV and taught four years in one-room schools in Roane County before she became an Army nurse in 1934. Bradley served in the Philippines in 1941 where she was captured by the Japanese after Pearl Harbor, and was a POW until February 1945. While a prisoner of war she continued to work as a nurse in the prison camp assisting with 230 operations and 18 births.

“In spite of all the preventive measures, the number of dysentery cases increased to such an extent that a small cottage was obtained to house these patients. This cottage became the camp hospital. There were usually more patients than beds, so the less acutely ill were treated in the barrack, while the acutely ill and contagious cases were treated in the camp hospital.

“All bed linen and clothing used by patients was boiled and exposed to the sunshine for two hours after the drying period. When soap became practically nonexistent, a soap product was made from lye obtained from wood ashes and then mixed with fats or oils. This was an effective cleaning agent although it was very hard on the hands. The making of this soap product illustrates the use to which ‘home town talent’ was put.

“The question is – when an individual returns to a world of free people will he be able to forget everything that he has experienced, will he be embittered, broken and disillusioned, or will he have enough strength to find purpose and meaning in life again? Should he be expected to go counter to the laws of human behavior by truly forgetting his experience or should he concentrate upon whatever small good the experience provided, guard those small bits of good, using them as chinking to rebuild the wall of his life?”

As a veteran of World War II and the Korean War, Ruby Bradley was the third woman in Army history to be promoted to the rank of Colonel. Her military record included 34 medals and citations of bravery, including two Legion of Merit medals, two Bronze stars, two Presidential Emblems, the World War II Victory Medal and the U.N. Service Medal. She was also the recipient of the Florence Nightingale Medal, the Red Cross' highest international honor.

source: http://history.amedd.army.mil/ANCWebsite/bradley.htm

Related posts: "Do you remember Grandma's lye soap?"

5/23/07

Amaze your friends and irritate your enemies with it.

It’s the whispering foil, the flexatone, or simply, the musical saw.


Some consider the musical saw an American folk musical instrument believed to have gotten its start somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains in the 19th century (oh, I suppose we can allow that carpenters and lumberjacks all over the world have discovered that their tool could make sounds, but still….)

The region has a rich history of improvised instruments and the peculiar melodic nature of the saw would tend to lend itself quite nicely to mountain music. Instruments always have a grouping of other instruments that work particularly well as a musical blend. For the musical saw, it would be those we traditionally identify with the music of Appalachia: Harmonica, fiddle, dulcimer, and various rhythm instruments.

To create a note, the player (or “sawyer”) bends the blade into an S-curve. The parts of the blade which are curved are dampened from vibration, and do not sound, while at the center of the S-curve a section of the blade remains relatively flat. This is called the "sweet spot" which vibrates across the width of the blade, producing a distinct pitch. The sound is created by drawing the bow across the back edge of the saw at the sweet spot, or by striking the sweet spot with a mallet.

Musical saws have been produced for over a century. In the early 1900s, there were over ten companies in the United States alone manufacturing saws. These saws ranged from the familiar steel variety to gold-plated masterpieces. The first major U.S. marketer of musical saws, Mussehl & Westphal of Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin, sold over 30,000 units a year during the 1920s and early 1930s.

A traveling Missouri showman named Leon Weaver was among the first to have great success with saw music as he traveled across the South, performing the act “Weaver Brothers n’ Elviry."

Leon Weaver From this humble beginning, the musical saw has now branched out into every conceivable musical genre. Even respected music critic Lucille Fletcher predicted in her 1938 New Yorker article, "The Apotheosis of the Saw," that the saw would outgrow its vaudeville roots to become an accepted orchestral instrument.

But wherever it goes, its haunting wail harkens back to the mountains of its birth.

sources: www.museumofmakingmusic.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=60&Itemid=4
http://weeklywire.com/ww/07-20-98/austin_music_feature2.html
www.oddmusic.com/gallery/om21800.html
homerledford.com


5/22/07

That looked like a BIG possum!

North American possum (Didelphis virginiana

“There's a big old . . . there's a big old boar possum come in here. I . . . I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what it was. And it come in here and in four days, I believe, three or four days, he killed . . . in my chickenhouse out there he killed sixteen big hens. He come out there and he'd knock 'em off of the roost and all the . . . all he got was the head.

“And I couldn't figure what it was, you know. I thought it was a . . . I thought it must be a weasel or . . . so one night I backed my truck down there . . . I backed my truck out there and backed down there where I could see and I . . . I was sitting out there in the back of the truck a laying for him.

“And he come around the barn, come in there. He went in there, buddy, and he knocked two of them chickens off of that roost. He come around that barn so fast I couldn't . . . I couldn't tell . . . I looked . . . I said, "That looked like a big possum." Well, this dog was there and by time I come around he got gone, and that made sixteen of them big hens, buddy, in four days. He'd come in there and knock 'em off the roost. I'd go out there and they'd just be laying there.

“So I fastened everything up, and where you first come in the barn, you know, there . . . he . . . he had the hole in the lower side down where he come in the chickenhouse. I went out there and I set me a big trap, a big double-jaw trap down there, and sure enough I walked out there the next morning, there he was. Buddy, that . . . I mean that was a big long-legged possum. I never . . . I didn't know a possum would . . . would catch a chicken. And I had a big old ball peen hammer and I walked around there. Possums are hard to kill. And [chuckle] I said, ‘Son, I'm going to give you a lick for every chicken that you killed from me.’ "

Clarence R. Wells
Family Farm Oral History Project
University of Kentucky
http://tinyurl.com/25p45j


5/18/07

Leo Finkelstein. Pawnbroker. Mensch.

Jews in Asheville NC
Temple Beth-Ha-Tephila,
Asheville, NC



Leo Finkelstein's father came to Asheville, NC in 1903; Leo was born in 1905. “Kosher food and orthodox cooking was family tradition until my father died. I attended camp in Brevard and canoed on the French Broad to Arden. I left my lunch behind and ate the bacon and eggs with the rest - despite the Jewish rules. I used to take a car from the square to Biltmore and fish in the Swannanoa. The Asheville Power and Light ran an open air street car and rides cost 5 cents each way.”

“My father gave me a job in his pawn shop for 50 cents a week - out of this I was to save 25 cents. Because of the serial movie on Saturday, I did not work Saturday morning.”

Finkelstein was in the 1922 class of what is now Asheville High School. His high school principal called him into his office and said “You’re wasting tax payer's money - go out and get a job!”

“When I graduated from high school I inspected watches for the railroad. Railroad workers' watches could not vary over 30 seconds a week. They were purchased from my father’s store. There is only one person in the city who can work with wind-up watches today.”

He eventually took over the family business, and was successful during the Depression when other businesses failed. “We made smaller loans during the Depression but the same 80% of items were redeemed. Anything that had value and was portable was handled. I knew most of my customers and made about 100 loans a day - 50% black and 50% white. The most reliable were the prostitutes. A lady came to my shop to pawn something - she was drunk, offered me a drink and dropped dead.

“The customers had no credit and couldn't borrow from the bank. They needed cash for doctor bills, to buy drugs, and to eat. My father gave loans on practically nothing. He gave $5.00 with no collateral to a man who bought a portable stove and chestnuts which he roasted. The man later opened a restaurant with two sections - one black, one white.”

Finkelstein was in charge of the Jewish Aid Society. “I gave a 50 cent meal ticket to Peterson's on the Square and helped them leave town. There were no shelters. The Jewish Aid Society, later the Federated Charity, was run by women. A drive was put on every year. One man refused to give more than $5.00 and was finally induced to donate $500.00!”

Leo Finkelstein, 1905-1998
Asheville, NC

Source: http://toto.lib.unca.edu/findingaids/oralhistory/VOA/D_H/Finkelstein_L.html


5/17/07

What in tarnation?

www.parkergun.org/new_page_63.htm"Tarnation!" reads the title at the bottom of the Aug 1922 National Sportsman cover.

"What in tarnation?" is one of a wide variety of euphemistic expressions of surprise, bewilderment or anger that arose in 18th and 19th century America. Perhaps due to our Puritan legacy, Americans were, during this period, especially creative in devising oaths that allowed us to express strong emotions while still skirting blasphemy.

Such inventions as "heck," "drat," "darn," "gosh," "jiminy," "gee-whiz" and "goldarn" were all devised to disguise exclamations that would have been considered shocking in polite society. "Sam Hill," for example, is simply an early 19th century euphemism for "hell" (and while there have been many people named Sam Hill throughout history, the expression does not come from the name of any particular Sam Hill).

"Tarnation," which dates back to the late 18th century, is an interesting example of this generation of euphemisms because it's actually two euphemisms rolled into one word. The root of "tarnation" is "darnation," a euphemistic modification of the word "damnation," which at that time was considered unfit for polite conversation. "Darnation" became "tarnation" by being associated in popular speech with "tarnal," an aphetic, or clipped, form of "eternal."

It may seem odd that "eternal" would ever have been considered a curse word, but to speak of "the Eternal" at that time was often to invoke a religious context (God, Heaven, etc.), and thus to label something or someone "eternal" in a disparaging sense ("You eternal villain!") was considered a mild oath. Shakespeare, for example, used "eternal" in this way in at least two of his plays.

So at some point someone, probably in a moment of exasperation, mixed "darnation" with "tarnal," and we ended up with "tarnation."

Source: www.word-detective.com/050404.html


5/16/07

The death of Molly Vaughn

Molly Vaunder went a walking, when a shower came on;
She went under a birch tree the shower to shun.
Jimmie Randells was a hunting, a hunting in the dark.
He shot at his true love and he missed not his mark.

He picked up his gun, to his uncle did run
Saying, "Uncle, dearest uncle, I have killed Molly Vaughn!
I've killed that fair damsel, the joy of my life,
And I always intended to make her my wife."


Up stepped Jimmie's father, with his locks turning gray
Saying, "Jimmie, dearest Jimmie, do not run away.
Stay in your country till your trial comes on;
You ne'er shall be hurt for killing Mollie Vaughn."

On the day of Jimmie's trial, Mollie's ghost did appear.
"Say, ye gentlemen of the jury, young Jimmie goes clear.
With a white apron round me, he took me for a swan
And Jimmie shall ne'er be hurt for killing Mollie Vaughn."

This ballad exists in many versions. In America the heroine is known as Molly Vaughn, Polly Van, Molly Banding, Molly Vaunders, Polly Bon, and Polly Bond, but often the ballad is called “Molly Bawn” or “Shooting of his Dear.”

source: http://www.ferrum.edu/applit/studyg/West/htm/molvau.htm



5/15/07

The stretch-out and the strike

By the mid 1920s Appalachia, land of farms and farmers, had been crisscrossed by railroad tracks and dotted with mill villages, and the Piedmont had eclipsed New England as the world's leading producer of yarn and cloth. But along with the promise of new jobs came intense competition in the decentralized textile industry, depressing wages, and faster mill machines, which with each new technological advance threatened to further exhaust their operators.

“Fashions in rayon for the 1930-31 season - Sears Catalog, 1930”These developments inevitably put labor and management on a collision course. Charlie Chaplin’s film Modern Times (1936) captured perfectly the panic of the average millhand caught in the cross-fire of the “stretch-out”: sped up machinery and ever expanding work quotas.

In October 1926 American Bemberg began the manufacture of "artificial silk," or rayon, at its new plant in Elizabethton, TN. The parent company, J. P. Bemberg, was the German affiliate of Vereinigte Glanzstoff Fabriken (VGF), one of the international giants in the production of rayon. Two years later, in August 1928, VGF opened another rayon plant in the small East Tennessee town. Visions of economic growth encouraged government officials in Elizabethton to make concessions to VGF concerning property taxes and charges for the huge volumes of water needed to make rayon. They also promised the German industrialists that they would have an abundant supply of docile and cheap--that is, nonunion-- labor.

John Fred Holly, who grew up in Elizabethton and worked at the plant during the 1930s, reported that local banker E. Crawford (E.C.) Alexander showed him a copy of an agreement between the company and the Elizabethton Chamber of Commerce assuring the rayon concerns that they would never have to pay weekly wages in excess of ten dollars and that no labor unions would be allowed to operate in the town.

The stage was set for one of the first, if not THE first, strikes in the Southern textile field. On March 12, 1929, 800 employees of American Bemberg walked out in a fumbling strike, poorly organized and not under union leadership. They demanded wage increases; the company ordered the plant closed the following day. On March 19 the adjoining plant, under the same management, was also closed and its 3,000 employees joined the ranks of the strikers, all native Americans. The courts quickly granted injunctions against the strikers and two companies of National Guardsmen were rushed to Elizabethton by Governor Henry Horton.

“The employers utilize various devices to put the militia under obligations to them. During the Elizabethton, Tennessee, rayon strike, the Glanzstoff-Bemberg Corporation not only provided barracks but served free refreshments, provided music and furnished dancing partners to the men on duty,” noted the New International magazine.

On March 22, after the strikers had joined the A. F. of L., a settlement was reached and the mills reopened.

Sources: New International, New York City, Vol.IV No.6, June 1938, pp. 189-190
http://newdeal.feri.org/guides/tnguide/ch07.htm
http://www.press.uillinois.edu/epub/books/waldrep/02.html
http://www.ibiblio.org/sohp/laf/protest.html
http://www.etsu.edu/cass/Archives/Collections/afindaid/a243.html


5/14/07

One of the oldest Confederate veterans

Warren County, Virginia Civil War Reunion Photo - 1897
CEDAR BLUFF "REBEL" SOLDIER HALE AND HEARTY AND NEARING 100. -- Cedar Bluff, May 19 - Today, in our town, one of our grand old veterans of the '61 gang passed the 96th milestone of his journey through this ever-changing world. "Uncle George" ---as he is familiarly known--- Burnett, one of the few remaining veterans of the Civil War, is still hale and hearty at this ripe old age, and says "temperance in all things, faith, hard work, lots of patience, and the goodness of the Almighty Father" are some of the main reasons he has attained this age.

He is, possibly, one of the oldest veterans left in our county, and is still active taking long daily walks. His vision is not quite as keen as the day near Petersburg he spied the "Yank" nestled close up against a log as the boys in grey had 'em on the run. He walked over to this "Yank," who was trembling with fear, and poked him in the ribs with his old trusty rifle and said, "Come out of there, Yank, and get behind these columns of grey, and we'll not kill you for sometime yet."

He is still able to read the Clinch Valley News and looks forward to this paper. He is known all over the western end of the county, and his honesty, straight forwardness, and sincere dealing with all of his fellow men is a known trait. He owes no man and says when the Master of all things calls him to a better world, he is ready to go. His home is located near the top of Claypool Hill, and his towering figure, now slightly stooped, is often seen along the road, taking his daily walks.

As we see that sparkle in his eyes, we wonder if he isn't happy basking in this sunset time of life, with memories of a well-spent life, and hope of a glorious future in that "purple valley" beyond. His many friends wish for him many more happy birthdays; tho' there may not be "many" these friends want to see Uncle George reach that one hundred mark. 'Tis fine to live by a fine old neighbor like you, Uncle George, and we want you to stick around for several more years.

Clinch Valley News
Tazewell County, Virginia
May 19, 1936


5/11/07

Emma Gatewood, 67, walks Appalachian Trail solo

Perry and Emma Gatewood’s oldest daughter Helen was already 20 years old in 1928, and the other children weren’t far behind. So Emma Gatewood became “Grandma Gatewood” to her immediate family long before the rest of the world knew her by that title.

Throughout the 30s, 40s and 50s she continued raising her 11 children and four of her grandchildren at the family farm in Gallia County, Ohio. With no means of transportation, Grandma Gatewood would simply walk two, three, four or five miles for her visits.

Emma GatewoodThen in 1955 at the age of 67, Grandma Gatewood made a journey that gained nationwide attention. Seeing a "National Geographic" article about the Appalachian Trail, and discovering that no woman had ever hiked its entire length, Grandma Gatewood decided to set out on an adventure. Amazingly, she made her arrangements and started in Maine on the hike without as much as a word to her family about her plans.

Unfortunately this first try ended abruptly when her glasses were accidentally broken, forcing her to return home. "I thought it would be a nice lark," she said, adding "It wasn't."

But finally, in 1957, she successfully hiked the trail all the way from Maine to Georgia, and if that wasn't enough she hiked it again in 1960, and then again at age 75 in 1963, making her the first person to hike the trail three times (though her final hike was completed in sections).

Gatewood never carried more than 20 lbs of gear and food during her hikes. She simply did not believe in expensive state of the art paraphernalia. "Most people today are pantywaist," she observed. Grandma G. traveled light, toting simply a blanket, plastic sheet, cup, first aid kit, raincoat, and one change of clothes. Her footgear was also plain, just an old pair of tennis shoes: "Head is more important than heel." And there were no freeze dried hiker meals for her. Her hiking diet consisted mainly of dried beef, cheese and nuts, supplemented by wild food she would find along the way.

On the design of the Appalachian Trail: "For some fool reason, they always lead you right up over the biggest rock to the top of the biggest mountain they can find."

sources:
www.answers.com/topic/grandma-gatewood
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grandma_Gatewood
http://www.hockinghills.com/i_grandm.htm


5/10/07

The workload was a killer, the heat intense

George A. Meyers, a CIO founder
"I came from the Georges Creek coal-mining region of western Maryland. Every male member of my family began his working life as a miner. I remember my father being on a number of bitter strikes because the fight over wages and safe working conditions was an every-day struggle.

"I graduated from high school in 1930 at the height of the Great Depression. After three years of looking I finally got hired as a spinner in the Celanese Corporation's huge rayon plant near Cumberland, Maryland.

"Working conditions were brutal. A 56-hour week with even more forced overtime - all for a straight-time wage of twenty-two-and-a-half cents an hour. The workload was a killer, the heat intense and the air badly polluted.

"A substantial minority of Celanese workers came from union families, mainly coal miners and railroad workers. So it wasn't very long before we began talking union. By 1936, after three year's of intense struggle that included several plant-wide strikes and a number of sit-downs, we forced the company to grudgingly recognize the union and we became Local 1874 of the Textile Workers affiliated with the Committee of Industrial Organizations led by John L. Lewis.

Celanese Plant, Cumberland MD"In our first contract, won after a lengthy strike, we got a raise in wages, a cut in the workload and a procedure for settling grievances.

"Most all of the 10,000 production workers were elated. "Hooray! Now with a union we are on an equal footing with the company." Sure, we knew every contract would be a battle and there were endless grievances to settle.

"But soon I began to notice that while things were a lot better than before the union, what we won didn't "stay won." The company would find new ways of piling on the work and wage increases were quickly swallowed up by an endless rise in the cost of living.

"It was the same on the political front. Early in the New Deal we won some real victories: the Wagner Act, the forty- hour week, Social Security. But it wasn't long before the politicians and judges friendly to the corporations began chipping away."

George A. Meyers was a founding organizer of the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO). He worked closely with John L. Lewis, President of the United Mine Workers, Phillip Murray of the United Steelworkers and other CIO leaders during the organizing drives that brought millions of workers into the labor movement during the 1930s.

source: http://www.pww.org/archives97/97-08-30-3.html


5/9/07

Come All You Virginia Girls

Oh come all you Virginia girls and listen to my noise
Don't you court no West Virginia boys
If you do your fortune'll be
Johnny cake and venison and sassafras tea
Johnny cake and venison and sassafras tea

Well, when they come a courtin' I'll tell you what they'll wear
Old black suit just about to tear
Old straw hat more brim than crown
A pair of woolen socks they wear the whole year round
A pair of woolen socks they wear the whole year round

http://www.geocities.com/cblrkl/dates.html
And when they come a courtin' I'll tell you what they'll say
First they'll say, has your daddy shot a bear?
Then they'll say as they sit down,
Honey can you bake your Johnny cake brown
Honey can you bake your Johnny cake brown

Oh come all you Virginia girls and listen to my noise
Don't you court no West Virginia boys
If you do your fortune'll be
Johnny cake and venison and sassafras tea
Johnny cake and venison and sassafras tea

---folksinger Elizabeth LaPrelle
Rural Retreat, VA
From her CD “Rain & Snow”
Based on ballads and old-time songs from the Appalachians

5/8/07

The world capital for chenille bedspreads

 http://dlg.galileo.usg.edu/vang/id:gor466Calhoun, Ga. 1934. Mrs. Ralph Haney poses for a photograph in her kimono. The peacock design was made of chenille.

Imagine: you’ve piled the family into the car and are driving south for a Florida vacation. You’re traveling along U.S. Highway 41 in northwest Georgia, when suddenly both sides of the road become flanked by row after row of clotheslines chock full of stunning chenille bedspreads. Congratulations! You’re in the thick of “Peacock Alley.” And most likely you’re in downtown Dalton, GA as well. 1930s travelers often stopped and bought these bedspreads, and of the many designs adorning the spreads, the most popular among tourists was the peacock. Hence the nickname.

Sometimes the bedspread buyers believed their purchases to be examples of authentic American folk crafts, when in fact by that decade a well organized industry had formed around the tufted beauties. Catherine Evans (later Catherine Evans Whitener) revived the handcraft technique of tufting in the 1890s near Dalton. Tufted bedspreads consisted of cotton sheeting to which Evans and (later) others would apply designs with raised "tufts" of thick yarn. These tufted bedspreads were often referred to as chenille products. Chenille, the French word for "caterpillar," is generally used to describe fabrics that have a thick pile (raised yarn ends) protruding all around at right angles.

By the 1920s merchants had organized a vast "putting out" system to fill the growing demand. They established "spread houses," usually small warehouses (or homes) where patterns were stamped onto sheets. Men called haulers would deliver the stamped sheets and yarn to thousands of rural homes in north Georgia, Tennessee, and the Carolinas. Families then sewed in the patterns. The hauler would make another round of visits to pick up the spreads, pay the tufters (or "turfers," as they sometimes called themselves), and return the products to the spread houses for finishing. Finishing involved washing the spreads in hot water to shrink them and lock in the yarn tufts. The tufted spreads could also be dyed in a variety of colors.

http://dlg.galileo.usg.edu/vang/id:brt120
The participation of farm families in this industry provided badly needed cash incomes and helped these families weather the Great Depression. It also produced fortunes for some. Dalton's B. J. Bandy (aided by his wife, Dicksie Bradley Bandy) was reputedly the first man to make $1 million in the bedspread business by the late 1930s, but many others followed.

Also in the 1930s such companies as Cabin Crafts began to bring the handwork from the farms into factories. The bedspread manufacturers sought greater productivity and control over the work process and were also encouraged to pursue centralized production by the wage and hour provisions of the National Recovery Administration's tufted bedspread code. These new firms also began mechanizing the industry by adapting sewing machines to the task of inserting raised yarn tufts.

Today, Dalton remains the tufted bedspread capital of the world.

Source: http://tinyurl.com/2yvllg


5/7/07

Land fishing for Molly Moochers


Their scientific name is Morchella esculenta, but to mushroom fans in Appalachia they’re dry land fish (yes, they do taste fishy when fried up) or molly moochers. Elsewhere in North America the hard-to-find morel mushroom is also known as a yellow morel, common morel, sponge mushroom, honeycomb morel, or haystack. Many European languages share similar names for our English morel, such as the Bulgarian morchella, the Danish morkel, the French motile and the German morchel. As morels are choice edibles, they are sought out by mushroom foragers throughout the world.

Shroom hunters claim you can sometimes actually hear the molly moochers grow as they push their way through dried leaves on still chilly ground in early spring.

Morel mushroom hunting attracts novices as well as expert searchers. The best time for morels is May but with more than 100 different types of mushroom, mushroom hunting is a summer-long activity.

The scarcity of molly moochers has made the “patches” of the mushrooms to be a highly guarded secret in many vicinities. Patches may be found under tulip poplars, white and green ash, hickory, elm, striped maple, sycamore, in abandoned apple orchards, and, most significantly, in burned areas after a fire. In some parts of Europe, laws were passed to prevent the burning of forests that had previously been set to promote morel growth the following year. The lack of consistency in morel fruiting has been a deterrent to commercial cultivation.

Molly moochers contain more protein than most vegetables, are rich in vitamins E, D, K and the B group, and their fiber is conducive to proper intestinal function.

Get out and look around for some of the best dining pleasure to be had anywhere!

sources:
www.mwrop.org/W_Needham/h_notebook.html
www.wild-harvest.com/pages/morel.htm
thegreatmorel.com



5/4/07

They weren't too beaten down

Sunday school picnic. Much of the food brought into abandoned mining town of Jere, West Virginia by "neighboring folk" from other parishes. There is a great deal of "hard feelings" and many fights between Catholics and Protestants. Miners as a whole are not very religious, many not having any connections with church, though they may have.
1938 Sept.

Marion Post Wolcott, FSA photographer

"My first assignments were very close to Washington. I think one of the first ones, if not the very first, was in the coal fields in West Virginia. That was a very short assignment, of course. And it was a very interesting one, too. I found the people not as apathetic as I had expected they might be. They weren't too beaten down. Of course, many of them were but they were people with hope and some of them still had a little drive, although, of course, their health was so bad it was telling . . . .

"I think [all the FSA photographers] did have a social consciousness definitely, perhaps more than some people have but I think they were all -- well, they were all interested in the plight of human beings and in the programs of the New Deal, and the remedial programs that the New Deal and the FSA were trying to do, I think that all these people had a lot of vigor and energy and were sensitive to their surroundings.

"[The Farm Security Administration] was one of the few places you could go where you felt that your pictures would be used and seen and that you could be honest in your reporting, whether with a camera or any other device. With your captioning you felt that any exhibits that they produced were definitely propaganda but you believed in them and you felt that they were honest, you wanted to slant them -- if you would call it slanting it -- or they were slanted, but so is any good program, an effective one.

"I never had worked in the field with handling both the captioning and the traveling and the sending back of the material, and not having my own darkroom. I wasn't sure I'd like that, and the arrangement of sending the stuff back and having them develop and print it, this worried me a little bit, but it turned out very well because Roy [Stryker, Historical Section chief, Information Division, FSA] gave us a great deal of freedom in that respect."

Interview with Marion Post Wolcott
Conducted by Richard Doud
at Artist's Home in Mill Valley, California
January 18, 1965

Source: www.aaa.si.edu/collections/oralhistories/transcripts/wolcot65.htm

5/3/07

Religious persecution, well oiled

Cover of Jehovah Witness publication 'The Watchtower,' 1930
On June 29, 1941, Charles Jones, C.A. Cecil and eight other young Jehovah’s Witnesses from Mt. Lookout, WV drove to nearby Richwood, WV “to distribute literature of the said religious sect.” Three of the Witnesses stopped off at the Town Hall to inform the mayor of the nature of their work and to request police protection. Instead of the mayor, they were met by an angry reception committee from the Richwood American Legion Post, among whom were Martin L. Catlette, a deputy sheriff, and Bert Stewart, the chief of police. A mob of 1,500 people gathered outside the Town Hall, in the meantime, and soon other members of the American Legion post, headed by one Louis Baber, had rounded up seven Witnesses and brought them to the mayor’s office.

Catlette then took charge. He produced several quart bottles of castor oil, and in the best Mussolini tradition, forced the Witnesses to drink eight ounces each. One Witness, who protested, was made to drink a double dose. While the Witnesses squirmed in agony, they were then tied to a long rope and marched by the hoodlum mob to the Richwood post office. In a touchingly patriotic ceremony, Catlette thereupon recited the preamble to the American Legion Constitution, and everybody present was forced to salute the flag. An hour or so later as the resultant circuit court decision goes on to say, “the Jehovah’s Witnesses were marched through the streets of the town of Richwood and out of its corporate limits, yet attached to the rope. The mob piled their stuff in their cars, poured castor oil over it, deflated their tires and painted 'Nazi' and 'Commie' on the cars."

The case attracted the attention of U.S. Attorney General Frank Murphy, who had recently established the Department of Justice's Civil Rights Section.

Catlette was hauled before a federal court and sentenced to twelve months in jail plus a thousand dollar fine, while Stewart, the chief of police, was fined $250.

This was the only federal conviction in the hundreds of brutal assaults on Jehovah's Witnesses that swept America that year. It was the Civil Rights Section's first interpretation that law enforcement officers were required to protect the civil rights of citizens. The Richwood case also marked the first time that Department of Justice's Civil Rights Section proceeded with an indictment by information after a grand jury failed to indict. This case expanded legal protection for religious liberties in the United States.

Sources: ‘Jehovah’s Traveling Salesmen” by Bill Davidson, Collier’s
Nov 2, 1946

http://tinyurl.com/293p6f

http://www.wvhumanities.org/catlette.htm



5/2/07

Educating the Melungeons

The 125-student Vardy School. Vardy Church is in right foreground; Powell Mountain rises behind.

The Vardy School, completed in 1929 and in operation until the 1970s, was a mission school that offered educational opportunities to members of one of America's least-known ethnic groups: the Melungeons.

The Melungeons often faced discrimination, both legal and social, and tended to settle in isolated communities such as Newman's Ridge in Hancock County, Tennessee. The Vardy Community is at the foot of Newman's Ridge. The district was named after Vardemon Collins, one of the first recorded Melungeon inhabitants, and was first settled around 1780.

Batey Collins Clan -- Batey Collins and his immediate family, circa 1890s. He gave the land for the development of Vardy education.

The locals worked with the Presbyterian Church to establish the Vardy School Community in 1892. The resulting Vardy School and a neighboring church became the focal points of life for the eight-mile Vardy Valley along Blackwater Creek, on the Tennessee-Virginia state line. By the 1930s and ’40s, when the school was run by Reverend Chester Leonard and Mary Rankin, it was likely the best in Hancock County. Miss Rankin was educated in Scotland, and possessed a nursing degree and a master's degree in education. She delivered all the babies in the community and conducted home health visits.

Until 1973, the Vardy School provided educational opportunities for students from Vardy, Blackwater Creek, and Newman's Ridge, as well as in neighboring Lee County, Virginia. Individualized instruction was used in most of the teaching. Students traveled at their own pace. The Geography, History, Bible and Health classes were all illustrated and accompanied with slides and filmstrips. There were movies at night for entertainment.

Writer Libby Killebrew describes Vardy as "a model community, whose
citizens learned strong values from close-knit families, and good skills from a fine school." Those citizens, Killebrew writes, have been "maligned in the past by journalists exploiting Appalachian stereotypes and myths, and the legend of the 'mysterious' Melungeons. Contrary to popular myths, Vardy was actually one of the most progressive communities in our region. [On] average, children graduating from Vardy were ahead of their peers academically."

The Vardy School Community was the first site in Hancock County to be placed on the National Register of Historic Places.


Sources: http://tinyurl.com/3y2vqd
http://tinyurl.com/36dy2j


5/1/07

At age 87 she's doing well in the first grade







"Aunt Betty Arnett lived 87 years of her life unable to read or write; she lives far back at the headwaters of Licking River in Magoffin County, KY. She is now doing well in the first grade in literacy classes offered in the mountains."

Photo caption by George Goodman
1939 photo describes 'The Education Project,' a WPA sponsored literacy program.

In 1900, George H. Goodman (1876-1961) founded a mail order whiskey business which he continued until the enactment of the 1919 Volstead Act. In 1922 he bought the Paducah News-Democrat which he operated until 1929 when he sold it to Edwin J. Paxton (1877-1961.) From 1934 through 1941 Goodman was director of the Works Progress Administration in Kentucky. During his tenure he traversed the state, camera in hand, seeking to depict the accomplishments of the WPA within the state.

Below right, the WPA State Headquarters on 4th Floor, Gibbs-Inman Building at 9th and Broadway in Louisville, KY.








June 2007 April 2007 Home