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10/30/09

She's like the great eagle she trains to hunt snakes--beautiful, terrible, & utterly unafraid

The following review by Charlie Wykes appeared October 29, 2009 in the online publication viewfromheremagazine.com

When Pemberton returned to the North Carolina mountains after three months in Boston settling his father’s estate, among those waiting on the train platform was a young woman pregnant with Pemberton’s child. She was accompanied by her father, who carried beneath his shabby frock coat a bowie knife sharpened with great attentiveness earlier that morning so it would plunge as deep as possible into Pemberton’s heart.


So opens Ron Rash’s Serena, a novel set in the Appalachian Mountains that follows the fortunes of the eponymous central character and her husband as they create a timber barony in 1930’s America. From the cover art on my paperback edition, you might be forgiven for thinking that what follows Rash’s wonderful opening lines will be a novel of romance and tribulation. How delighted was I to find something far more engrossing; both in content and style.

What Rash has created here is grand theatre, in the best possible sense. He quotes Marlowe on the cover page and I was struck by just how this novel follows the form of Elizabethan drama. It soon becomes apparent that Serena is no heroine as she ruthlessly pursues her ambition. Nor is Pemberton, her equally ambitious husband, heroic. Whilst he has faint qualms about some of Serena’s methods he is not one to let concern for his workers or his business partners stand in their way.

In keeping with Marlowe and Shakespeare a cast of supporting characters are introduced; some major, some minor, some serving to shed light on the characters of the Pembertons and others to provide commentary on their actions. Some are comic, others menacing and yet others heroic in ways the Pembertons will never be. Apart from Rachel, the young girl who has borne Pemberton a child, we are seldom privy to their thoughts, just as we know little of what the Pembertons may be thinking. This is not a novel that presents its characters from within; rather we know them through their deeds and judge them accordingly.

And when their deeds are as remarkable as Serena’s a novel less assured than this might rightly be met with some head shaking. Rash however is a very accomplished writer indeed. His work as a poet and his detailed knowledge of Appalachian history, which he teaches as Parris Distinguished Professor in Appalachian Cultural Studies at Western Carolina, allow him to write with power and grace and so detail a time and place where such things seem not only possible but entirely right.

He clearly has a deep love for the land and the history of the peoples who have tried to shape it and it is perhaps not going too far to say that in some sense, that Rash has characterised the land itself as locked in struggle with Serena; who embodies the destructive nature of human progress. As she cuts down both trees and people to turn a profit, so the mountains and trees cut down people in their turn. In contrast Rachel is accessible to us, we learn of her thoughts and fears for herself, her son and her way of life. She in a sense is the positive aspect of humanity that is diametrically opposite to Serena.

As for the workers and businessmen, some of the supporting cast I mentioned before, they are in turn awed and cowed by Serena and what she represents. Some strive to do her bidding, some seem to venerate her and some rightly fear her. None it seems can fathom where she came from or what drives her on. In this she is like the great eagle she trains to hunt snakes; beautiful and terrible and utterly unafraid.

In writing the above I am conscious that I have yet to discuss plot. Again, rather like the Elizabethan drama, Rash uses plot as a canvas upon which to paint his scenes and to comment upon the actions of mankind. That said, the story is entirely satisfying and centred upon Rachel who can bear a child and so sustain a future and her struggle with Serena who is barren and can leave no legacy save through destructive force of will. In parallel with this, the book details some of the events surrounding the establishment of the National Park in the region and the impact this had upon business and livelihood.

This second narrative is also concerned with sustainability versus profit, industry versus nature and is as relevant today as it was then. It is not however the reason you should read this book. Instead read it for its remarkable sense of time and place and Rash’s wonderfully vivid recounting of people and events set in a hostile yet magnificent landscape. By all means reflect upon how man and nature may come together and for what purpose but at the same time simply enjoy what I found to be one of the most engrossing and substantive books I have read for a long long time.

10/29/09

The story of the Wampus Cat

In Missouri they call it a Gallywampus; in Arkansas it's the Whistling Wampus; in Appalachia it's the just a plain old Wampus (or Wampas) cat. A half-dog, half-cat creature that can run erect or on all fours, it's rumored to be seen just after dark or right before dawn all throughout the Appalachians. But that's about all everyone agrees on. In non-Native American cultures it's a howling, evil creature, with yellow eyes that can supposedly pierce the hearts and souls of those unfortunate enough to cross its path, driving them to the edge of sanity.

Cherokee folklore, which is filled with tales of evil spirits lurking in the deep, dark forests that surrounded their villages, offers a different view of the Wampas cat.

An evil demon called Ew'ah, the Spirit of Madness, had been terrorizing the village of Etowah (or Chota, depending on the version you hear) in what is today North Carolina. The village shamans and warchiefs called for a meeting. The wise shamans told the warchiefs that sending the braves to hunt and kill the Ew'ah was surely going to be the end of the tribe, for the Ew'ah had the terrible power to drive men mad with a glance. The warchiefs argued that the Ew'ah could no longer feast on the dreams of the Cherokee children, and that something must be done. Together they agreed that their strongest brave would go alone, and bring great honor to his family and tribe by killing the mad demon.

the Wampus CatStanding Bear (or Great Fellow, depending on the story version) was the strongest, fastest, sneakiest, smartest, and most respected brave in all the Cherokee nation, and he was chosen to do battle with the demon. As he walked from his village, the shamans blessed him, and the warchiefs gave him many fine weapons with which to slay the beast, and on the edge of town, his wife, Running Deer, bid him a final farewell. She would never see him the same way again.

Weeks went by, and there was no word from Standing Bear. Suddenly, late one night, the stricken brave came running back into camp, screaming, and clawing at his eyes. One look, and Running Deer knew. Her husband was no more. With time, he would be able to pick berries and work in the fields with the young girls and the unmarried widows, but he would never be any good as a husband again, and by Cherokee law, that meant he was dead. Standing Bear's name was never again mentioned, but Running Deer had loved her husband, and she wanted revenge.

Running Deer went to the shamans, and they gave her a booger mask, a bobcat's face, and they told her that the spirit of the mountain cat could stand against the Ew'ah, but she must be the one to surprise the demon. The warchiefs gave her a special black paste, which when rubbed on her body, would hide her scent as well as her body. She kissed her former husband on the forehead, his blank eyes staring, and headed off to seek her revenge.

Running Deer knew the woods as well as she knew the village, and she ate sweet berries to keep up her strength over the many days, but still she came across no sign of the Ew'ah. Then, late one night, she heard a creature stalking down by the stream. As she crept slowly towards the creek, she heard a twig snap behind her. She spun, and just as suddenly realized how quickly it could have been the end of her. Behind her a wily fox darted across the pathway. "If that had been Ew'ah, I would be mad now..." the widowed Cherokee woman thought to herself, as she continued towards the creek.

At the edge of the creek, she saw footprints which did not belong there, and her former husband’s breastplate lay at the edge of the water. As she followed the prints upstream, she saw the demon. Its hulking form lurched hideously over the water, drinking from the pristine mountain spring. The Ew'ah hadn't seen her! Running Deer crept ever closer, and just as she felt she could bring herself no closer, she sprang!

The Ew'ah spun, and saw the Cat-Spirit-Mask, and began to tear at itself as the spirit of the mountain cat turned its powerful magic back on itself. The Ew'ah tumbled backwards into the pool, and Running Deer immediately turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could back to the village, never once looking back.

When she arrived home, she sang a song to herself---a quiet song, of grief for her husband, but also of joy for the demon's banishment. The shamans and warchiefs declared Running Deer the Spirit-Talker and Home-Protector.

Some say that the spirit of Running Deer inhabits the Wampas cat, and that she continues her eternal mission of watching her tribe's lands to protect them and their peoples from the demons that hide in the dark and lost places of Tanasi.


sources: Cherokee version above related by Enrique de la Viega, of Powder Branch, TN, on 7/11/03, posted to Ex Libris Nocturnis forum at http://bit.ly/2FmX4f
www.americanfolklore.net/folktales/tn3.html
http://themoonlitroad.com/the-wampas-mask-story-background/
Mysterious Knoxville, by Charles Edwin Price, 1999

10/28/09

The three restless spirits of Sarah, Will, and Clem

The city of Ringgold, GA sponsors tours of its train depot each Halloween based on 'The Legend of the Haunted Depot:'

Clem and Will Jackson grew up in Ringgold doing all the things brothers did, swimming in the Chickamauga Creek, hunting in the woods, and generally enjoying the pleasures of young men in the Old South.

The boys were very close and never imagined the War would separate them. However; Clem, the younger brother, was anxious to join the fighting, but his father refused him permission. In order to join in the Confederate fight, Clem ran off to Alabama and joined the 33rd Alabama Regiment. The 33rd Alabama Infantry Regiment was officially organized and outfitted in Pensacola, Florida in April 1862.

After dismounting heavy artillery from obsolete Fort McRee, the Regiment was sent to Corinth, Mississippi, arriving just after the Battle of Shiloh. Its baptism under fire occurred at Perryville, Kentucky in October, 1862 where it captured a battery, but suffered heavy casualties, including every field officer.

Ringgold Haunted DepotThe next month the Army of Tennessee was organized, and the history of this great army is the history of the 33rd. The Regiment was placed in General Patrick Cleburne’s Division, and contributed to his reputation of possessing the best assault troops in the Army of Tennessee. The 33rd drove the enemy before it in Hardee’s dawn assault at Murfreesboro; it prevailed against the 6th Indiana at Chickamauga; it helped hold the flank at Missionary Ridge; and it helped bring the Federal pursuit to a bloody end at Ringgold Gap.

In the three years Clem was gone, Will fell in love and married Sarah Johnson, a great friend of Clem’s. Although newly married, because the Confederate cause became so desperate, Will felt compelled to enlist under the command of General Patrick Cleburne.

Sarah corresponded with Clem throughout the War and wrote him telling about her marriage to Will and of his enlistment. The two brothers were reunited during the War, but were both tragically killed at the Battle of Ringgold Gap, so close to home. Their bodies were never properly buried, so their spirits were doomed to roam the earth forever.

Unaware that her beloved had been so close, Sarah waited and met every returning troop train hoping to be reunited with her husband and her friend. Upon hearing the news of their death, Sarah took her own life by sneaking into the Depot in the dark of the night and hanging herself. Because she had taken her own life, Sarah also was doomed to roam the earth without rest. The three restless spirits of Sarah, Will, and Clem finally found each other and made the Depot their home.

More than a hundred years had passed when construction workers found Clem’s body at Ringgold Gap and gave him a proper burial, freeing his spirit to ascend. Left behind, the spirits of Sarah and Will roam the streets of Ringgold in search of Clem. Legend has it that on a dark moonlit night Sarah can be seen standing on the back deck at the Depot watching for the brother that Will refuses to leave.


Source: http://ringgoldhaunteddepot.com

10/27/09

Way down yonder in the paw paw patch

Call it the American Custard Apple or the West Virginia Banana, but it’s neither apple nor banana. It’s the Paw-paw (Asimina trilob), the largest native fruit of North America, and it grows throughout Appalachia. There are about seven other members of the genus Asimina, all growing in the southeastern U.S. Mature pawpaw trees produce fruits 2" wide by 10" long, which turn from green, to yellow, and then black as they ripen in the fall.

Where, oh where is pretty little Susie?
Where, oh where is pretty little Susie?
Where, oh where is pretty little Susie?
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

Come on, boys [or girls, or kids], let's go find her,
Come on, boys, let's go find her,
Come on, boys, let's go find her,
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

Pickin' up paw-paws, puttin' 'em in her pockets,
Pickin' up paw-paws, puttin' 'em in her pockets,
Pickin' up paw-paws, puttin' 'em in her pockets,
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

---The Paw Paw Patch
Traditional folk song


Paw-paw fruits are rich in minerals such as magnesium, copper, zinc, iron, manganese, potassium, and phosphorus. The fruit also contains abundant concentrations of Vitamin C, proteins, and their derivative amino acids. The Peterson Field Guide mentions that the seeds, along with being an emetic, have narcotic properties.

Paw Paw treeThe paw-paw pulp may be eaten raw, made into ice cream, baked, or used as a pie filling. Some Appalachian cooks make a custard out of "Poppaws." Seed them, mash them, add milk, a little sugar, an egg and some allspice. Pour the batter into custard cups and set those in a bread pan with some water in the bottom of the pan. Bake at a medium heat. Stick a broom straw or toothpick in, and when it comes up clean it’s done. Paw-paw also makes an excellent dry, white wine. It can be made from fresh or canned fruit.

The paw-paw is sensitive to ultraviolet light, thus, paw paw seedlings may not grow back after forests have been clear cut, and there are very few virgin forests left in the United States. Paw-paws can be found growing there abundantly, but once the forests are harvested, the paw paw will not usually re-establish.


sources:www.fred.net/kathy/pawpaws.html
http://kentuckyhighlands.net/agriculture/trees/history-of-the-pawpaw-tree.html


10/26/09

She donated her mansion to the church but then sued to get it back

Alice Jane Meek (1877-1961) could trace her roots to members of pioneer families in Eastern Kentucky. Her resourcefulness emerged early when, amid serious competition, she wooed and wed a teacher from a one-room schoolhouse in Van Lear who had been her instructor.

She bore John C.C. Mayo ---“Calhoun” to her--- two children, John C.C. 2nd and Mary Margaret. A highly focused woman, Alice contributed greatly to the rise and success of the man who became the wealthiest man in Kentucky by the time of his death. He was a pioneer in the development of the coal industry in the Big Sandy Valley.

Mrs. Mayo traveled with her husband as he met with local landowners to acquire their coal interests. She would often speak with the wives and work out deals for the interests behind the scenes. Her nicknames of “Alkie Jane” and “Alka” were well known, and Mr. Mayo named a steamboat after her that was misspelled as “Thealka” rather than “The Alka.” When the steamer was built in 1899, Alka Mayo became president of the Paintsville and Catlettsburg Packet Co., which operated the boats.

Steamboat ThealkaThe Thealka, classified as a batwing boat due to the position of her paddle wheels. Instead of a single stern paddle wheel, she was equipped with two smaller side wheels, set well towards the stern of the boat. Photo undated.

In 1906 the North East Coal Company had created Muddy Branch, an unincorporated community in Johnson County, but in 1911, renamed it "Thealka" after the steamboat.

Alka worked hard to develop the public relations of Calhoun’s enterprises and helped to get railroads to Pike County to move the coal to market. From 1905 to 1912 she spent a great deal of time directing construction of the couple’s new three-story mansion in Paintsville, KY.

By 1913 the Mayos were comfortable enough to take a lengthy tour of Europe. They’d already traveled together to New York, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, Chicago and Minneapolis. Soon after their return from Europe, however, Mr. Mayo learned that he had Bright’s Disease, which in 1914 was incurable. He consulted physicians in Cincinnati, where he was briefly hospitalized. He was eventually moved to New York City in search of the most eminent doctors, but to no avail, and he died in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel on May 11, 1914.

After her first husband’s death in 1914, a distraught Alice moved to Florida. In 1916 she met Dr. Samuel P Fetter of Portsmouth, OH when he was recuperating from an illness in Palm Beach, where she frequently visited. He was a bachelor several years her junior, whose “mother presides over his household.” The couple married at his friend Cyrus Preston's home, and moved to Ashland, KY in 1917. They purchased a Victorian home there, but due to war rations, were not allowed to build a new house.

Alice received permission to “remodel” and henceforth rebuild almost the entire house. During this period she became a director of the Mayo Companies. Before the marriage, she had formed the Mrs. John C.C. Mayo Company, transferred all the property of the estate to this corporation, and divided the stock between her children. She donated the Mayo home and land to Sandy Valley Seminary. In 1918 the grounds and buildings of Sandy Valley Seminary were acquired by the Methodist Episcopal Church/South, and its name changed to John C. C. Mayo College.

The marriage to Dr. Fetter only lasted 4 years. He was 37 when he died. Like his predecessor, he had gone to New York just months before his death in hopes of finding a cure for his illness, but was similarly diagnosed as incurable. Alice, “for business reasons related to the administration of the properties and enterprises inherited from the late John C. C. Mayo,” changed her last name legally back to Mayo, reported the Paintsville Herald in 1927.

After years of financial struggle the Methodist Church Conference reluctantly closed Sandy Valley Seminary in 1928. A bitter legal battle promptly erupted between the Conference and Mrs. Mayo over ownership of the properties; she claimed that “the purposes having failed, title to the lands had reverted to and was vested in her as the surviving donor;” the Conference disagreed. Mrs. Mayo eventually won ‘Board of Missions of Methodist Episcopal Church v. Mayo’ and received undisputed title to the school property in 1936.

She then sold the house and property to E. J. Evans, a friend and employee of John Mayo. Mr. Evans leased the mansion and other buildings. In 1938, Paintsville bought the Mayo College property and the Kentucky General Assembly created and opened the Mayo Vocational School.

In 1945, Mr. Evans sold the mansion and grounds to the Most Reverend William T. Mulloy, Roman Catholic Bishop of the Diocese of Covington, KY, and his successors in office. Under the guidance of the Sisters of Divine Providence from Melbourne, KY, Our Lady of the Mountains was opened in October, 1945. It is currently under the auspices of the Catholic Diocese of Lexington, KY. Alice Meek Mayo died in Ashland on Sept 5, 1961 and was buried behind the Mayo mansion in Paintsville.


sources: The Kentucky Encyclopedia, by John E. Kleber
www.johnsoncountykyhistory.com/education/sandy.html
http://home.catholicweb.com/OurLadySchool/index.cfm/NewsItem?ID=9376&From=Home
www.pikevillerotary.org/newsletter/2007-2008/news020608.pdf
http://familytreemaker.genealogy.com/users/p/r/e/Clara-Preston-OH/GENE11-0169.html
Ashland Daily Independent, Front Page September 5, 1961
Board of Missions of Methodist Episcopal Church v. Mayo
CIRCUIT COURT OF APPEALS, SIXTH CIRCUIT, OHIO, 1936
A standard history of the Hanging Rock iron region of Ohio: an ..., Volume 2 edited by Eugene B. Willard et al.
New York Times, March 19, 1921, page 11, “Samuel P Fetter Dead”

10/25/09

Listen Here: weekly Appalachian History podcast posts today

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 the story of a 1930s wonder drug that was never tested before being marketed. Dr. S.E. Massengill said of his company’s Elixir of Sulfanilimide: "My chemists and I deeply regret the fatal results, but there was no error in the manufacture of the product. We have been supplying a legitimate professional demand and not once could have foreseen the unlooked-for results. I do not feel that there was any responsibility on our part." The firm's head chemist apparently did not share this feeling; Harold Watkins committed suicide after learning of the 100 deaths his concoction had caused.

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.

North Carolinian forest ranger William Nothstein “had a movie projector and a trunk about that high, and old silent movies and a screen and film and mending kit, and all that sort of thing, and I went around and showed motion pictures, fire prevention movies, and also game protection pictures; wild life protection.” In this oral history excerpt he tells us about an elderly widow who offered to sell him a homemade suit while he was in the line of duty.

When asked by Federal agent Melvin Purvis about the Kansas City Massacre, he snapped, "I won't tell you anything, you son-of-a-bitch." Depending on whose version is more accurate, these may well have been Charles Arthur Pretty Boy Floyd's last words. October 22, 2009 is the 75th anniversary of the shoot-out death of the career bank robber who just three months earlier had been designated "Public Enemy No. 1" by J. Edgar Hoover.

In our next piece we’ll hear the description of court case in Fentress County, TN, in which a man by the name of Stout was arrested for bewitching the beautiful daughter of a Mr. Taylor, who lived on the Obeds River. The courthouse guards weren’t taking any chances; before entering the courtroom they took the precaution of remove the lead bullets from their guns and replacing them with silver bullets, just in case the defendant tried anything out of the ordinary.

The decision of a county to change its county seat doesn’t seem like front page news. But let’s peek in on a late nineteenth century power struggle set in Randolph County WV. Timber rich, today much of it is in the Monongahela National Forest. And that wealth of natural resources set the stage for the Courthouse War of the 1890s between the towns of Beverly and Elkins.

We’ll wrap things up with a look at the origin of the phrase ‘jack o lantern’. It has to do with an old Irish myth about a man named Stingy Jack who succeeded several times in tricking the Devil. But of course you can’t go around tricking the Devil without, well, hell to pay later on!

And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Archive we'll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music by A.A. Gray & Seven Foot Dilly in a 1930 recording of “Streak of Lean, Streak of Fat.”

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.

10/23/09

The Devil provided Stingy Jack with a coal

If you have ever tramped around the woods after dark, you may have noticed an erie glowing substance on the forest floor. This is the light from luminescent fungi---foxfire. One of the most common fungi responsible for foxfire is Clitocybe illudens, also known as the Jack 'o Lantern mushroom. Makes complete sense that it would be named that: it’s orange, it glows in the dark. But did you ever stop to wonder where the phrase "Jack 'o Lantern" came from?

Clitocybe illudensThere's an old Irish myth about a man nicknamed "Stingy Jack." Stingy Jack was a drunken brawler who found great enjoyment from playing tricks on anyone who crossed his path. Jack also had the great misfortune of running into the Devil more than once.

Jack's first encounter with the Devil happened at a local Irish pub within the village. Obviously Stingy Jack was called "Stingy Jack" for a reason, and he wasn't about to change now in the face of the devil. Jack convinced the Devil to transform into a sixpence piece so that Jack could use him to pay for their drinks. In exchange for this transaction, the Devil would receive Jack's soul. Little did the Devil know, Jack still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

After changing into the sixpence piece, Jack quickly tossed the Devil into his pocket next to a silver cross - thus preventing the Devil from returning to his original form. Jack then bargained with the Devil to keep his soul for 10 more years - in return for the Devil's freedom. The Devil reluctantly agrees and Jack frees him. 10 years pass and Jack crosses paths with the Devil a second time. With the Devil ready to claim his soul, Jack made a last request: "I'll go, but before I do - will you retrieve an apple from that tree for me? I'm awfully hungry!"

The Devil began to climb the tree, and while the Devil was climbing to the top of the tree, Jack carved a large cross into the back of the tree. Again, the Devil had been tricked and could not get down.

Jack; being quite pleased with himself; bargained yet again with the Devil - this time for the promise that the Devil would never, ever try to take his soul again. With no way out of the tree, the Devil agreed.

Years pass and Jack finally passes away. Unfortunately for Jack, all of his evil trickery and horrible deeds - God did not allow Jack into Heaven. The Devil, still bitter at Jack and his bag of tricks, kept his word and did not claim his soul. Jack was unable to get into Heaven, and unable to get into Hell.

"Wherever shall I go?" Jack asked the Devil, confused and afraid.

"Back to where you came from!" The Devil growled angrily at Jack and sent him on his way back to earth.

Jack's journey back was very dark, and he begged for the Devil to lend him a light to help him lead the way. The Devil provided Stingy jack with a coal from the fires of Hell - which Jack then placed into a turnip he had in his pocket. The carved out turnip lead the way back to earth. Since then; Jack appears every Halloween, doomed to roam the earth in search of eternal rest - leading the way with his turnip lamp.

The Irish people began to refer to the ghostly figure as "Jack of the Lantern," and soon: "Jack O'Lantern."

carved turnip HalloweenTraditionally on All Hallows Eve, many Irishmen make their own versions of Jack's lantern by carving scary faces into turnips or potatoes and placing them near doors and windows to scare away the body-snatching spirits.

Pumpkins weren't actually used until the Irish immigrants brought the tradition of Jack-o-Lanterns with them to America - only to discover that pumpkins were easier to carve than their traditional turnips and potatoes. The traditional Jack-o-Lantern was a turnip!


http://www.novareinna.com/festive/jack.html

10/22/09

Bank robber Pretty Boy Floyd drops in a hail of 93 bullets

When asked by Federal agent Melvin Purvis about the Kansas City Massacre, he snapped, "I won't tell you anything, you son-of-a-bitch." Depending on whose version is more accurate, these may well have been Charles Arthur Pretty Boy Floyd's last words. Today is the 75th anniversary of the shoot-out death of the career bank robber who just three months earlier had been designated "Public Enemy No. 1" by J. Edgar Hoover.

Believed to be returning to his home in the Cookson Hills of Oklahoma after years in hiding, Floyd and his partner, Adam Richetti, had attracted the attention of local police near Wellsville, OH. A guns-blazing chase ensued, resulting in Richetti's capture and Floyd's escape. Agent Purvis organized a three-day manhunt, which culminated on the Ellen Conkle farm when eight lawmen ended Floyd's life of violence.

Much of the interest in Floyd was due to a bloody rescue attempt in Kansas City in June 1933, which had resulted in the machine gun deaths of five persons, four of them police officers. Floyd, usually not shy about his exploits, denied any involvement, but without success.

Floyd went into hiding after the so-called Union Station Massacre. However, by October of the following year, he and Richetti, and two sisters whose inconvenient husbands had been eliminated by Floyd, decided to leave their hideout in Buffalo, New York, and return to Oklahoma.

The East Liverpool Historical Society website gives a dramatic blow-by-blow account of the gang's desperate final attempts to outrun the law in Ohio:

"In mid-afternoon on Monday, October 22, he emerged from the woods near an area known as Sprucevale, eight miles southeast of his last sighting, where he approached the farmhouse of Mrs. Ellen Conkle, a widow. A disheveled Floyd explained to her that he had gotten lost while hunting and had spent the previous night wandering through the woods. He was hungry, and Mrs. Conkle prepared a meal of spareribs, potatoes, rice pudding, and pumpkin pie, which Pretty Boy consumed rapidly and termed 'fit for a king'. He offered Mrs. Conkle a dollar for her trouble and asked to see any recent newspapers.

Ellen ConkleEllen Conkle, with the dishes used by Floyd in what turned out to be his last meal.

"Unknown to Floyd, he had been observed walking in the area by a farmer who telephoned township Constable Clyde Birch who, in turn, relayed the report to the East Liverpool City Police. Acting on the tip, one of several already received, East Liverpool Police Chief High J. McDermott rounded up Patrolmen Chester C. Smith, Glenn Montgomery, and Herman Roth and set out. Purvis and four agents followed in a second vehicle.

"Meanwhile, having concluded his review of the papers, which detailed the capture of Richetti and the ongoing manhunt, Floyd asked for Mrs. Conkle's assistance in getting to Youngstown. She suggested that Floyd wait until her brother, Stewart Dyke, finished his work in the fields. Floyd sat in the front seat of Dyke's Model A until his return.

"When Pretty Boy explained that he wanted transportation to Youngstown or the nearest bus line, Dyke promised to take him part of the way, and they started to pull out of the farmyard. At that crucial moment, two cars came speeding down the Sprucevale Road toward the Conkle farm. Floyd, sensing danger, ordered Dyke to pull the car behind an adjacent corncrib, and saw a pair of blue-trousered legs get out of the car. As the police and federal agents approached the corncrib, Floyd made a break for the woods, holding a Colt automatic in his right hand.

"Nine officers, variously armed with pistols, rifles, and shotguns, blazed away as Floyd zigzagged across the field. Ninety-three shots were directed at the outlaw; for once, he did not shoot back. Hit, Floyd fell to his knees, then got up and continued his race for life. A second bullet knocked him down to stay.

"Not surprisingly, the accounts of the participants differ widely. Purvis later claimed that Floyd was hit by an agent armed with a Tommy gun. Patrolman Chester Smith asserted that it was his shots with a .32-20 Winchester that had dropped Floyd and, further, that the federal agents were armed only with pistols and 'couldn't have hit anything at that distance with their handguns.'

Pretty Boy FloydFloyd's body at the Sturgis Funeral Home morgue - note bullet wound in left torso.

"Floyd was alive when the lawmen came up to where he lay. The Colt was removed from his right hand, which had been paralyzed by a wound. A backup gun was found in the waistband of his trousers.

"When Purvis asked the criminal if he was Pretty Boy Floyd, he received the curt response, ‘I'm Floyd’. He then asked the police, 'Where's Etti?' --- presumably a reference to his captured associate. The three Liverpool patrolmen carried him to the shelter of a large apple tree where Public Enemy No. 1 died."


source: www.eastliverpoolhistoricalsociety.org/pbfloyd1.htm

10/21/09

My chemists and I deeply regret the fatal results

Sulfa drugs held out the promise of being the wonder drugs of the 1930s: they cured bacterial infections such as pneumonia, blood poisoning, and meningitis. And so their use spread rapidly. Output of sulfa drugs in the United States in 1937—the first year of real commercial production—totaled about 350,000 pounds; by 1940, it had more than doubled. By 1942, it topped an estimated 10 million pounds.

Photograph of Elixir Sulfanilamide bottles ca. 1937-38Sulfanilamide, one of the first of the sulfa drugs, had been used safely for some time in tablet and powder form, but it was hard to swallow as a tablet and not especially palatable as an injection either. Children tended to balk at both.

In 1937, S. E. Massengill Co., a small drug formulator in Bristol, TN, sought to meet the demand for a drinkable liquid preparation. Harold Cole Watkins, Massengill's chief chemist, experimented and found that sulfanilamide would dissolve in diethylene glycol. The company control lab tested the mixture for flavor, appearance, and fragrance and found it satisfactory.

The concoction was called Elixir Sulfanilamide despite the lack of ethanol, an ingredient that was required for a preparation to receive the elixir designation. Immediately, the company compounded a quantity of the elixir and sent shipments--633 of them--all over the country. The presence of diethylene glycol was not divulged on the bottle labels. Furthermore, Massengill made no tests on its elixir before shipping from its plant in September.

One of the major points of delivery of the drug was Tulsa, OK. By early October, James Stephenson, the president of the Tulsa County Medical Society, had been notified that six local patients had unexpectedly died from renal failure after ingesting Elixir Sulfanilamide. In an October 11 telegraph to the American Medical Association, Dr. Stephenson requested the composition of the elixir. The AMA responded that they were unaware of any product from the Massengill Company and had never approved a liquid sulfanilamide preparation.

The AMA telegraphed Dr. Samual Evans Massengill, the firm's owner, requesting the composition of the elixir. Massengill released this proprietary information but urged that it be kept strictly confidential. He hypothesized that the deaths may have been caused by mixing the elixir with other drugs. Massengill and Watkins reluctantly admitted, however, that toxicity tests had not been done. To show confidence in his product, Watkins self-administered small amounts of diethylene glycol and elixir. No adverse effects were noted.

But the AMA laboratory had meantime isolated diethylene glycol as the toxic ingredient and immediately issued a warning, through newspapers and radio, that Elixir Sulfanilamide was toxic and deadly.

Walter Campbell, the chief of the Food & Drug Administration, assigned almost all of the bureau's 239 inspectors and chemists to the case, sending field agents immediately to the Massengill's headquarters in Bristol and to branch offices in Kansas City, New York, and San Francisco. They found that the firm had already learned of the poisonous effects of the liquid sulfanilamide and had sent telegrams to more than 1,000 salesmen, druggists, and doctors.

However, the telegrams merely requested the return of the product and failed to indicate the urgency of the situation or say that the drug was lethal. At FDA's insistence, the firm sent out a second wave of messages, worded more strongly: "Imperative you take up immediately all elixir sulfanilamide dispensed. Product may be dangerous to life. Return all stocks, our expense."

Dr. Massengill said: "My chemists and I deeply regret the fatal results, but there was no error in the manufacture of the product. We have been supplying a legitimate professional demand and not once could have foreseen the unlooked-for results. I do not feel that there was any responsibility on our part." The firm's chemist apparently did not share this feeling; Harold Watkins committed suicide after learning of the effects of his latest concoction.

Through the dogged persistence of federal, state, and local health agencies and the effects of the AMA and the news media, most of the elixir was recovered. Of 240 gallons manufactured and distributed, 234 gallons and 1 pint were retrieved; the remainder was consumed and caused the deaths of more than 100 victims nationwide.

Under the U.S. food and drug law then in place, the government seized Massengill's deadly mixture only because it was misbranded; "elixir" implied that the solvent in the bottle was ethyl alcohol. Drug dispensers were required by law to label their products accurately but not to test them for safety. The company was fined $16,800 for its false label.

The lethal mixture, however, did encourage enactment of a much-strengthened food and drug law that was then pending in Congress. The Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetics Act of 1938, which overhauled the law of 1906, stipulated that manufacturers must test any new drug for safety and report the results to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration. Some predicted that the new act would stifle research, but FDA historian Wallace Janssen says the reverse has been true: the research required by the law has stimulated medical progress.


sources: www.annals.org/cgi/content/full/122/6/456
http://pubs.acs.org/subscribe/journals/tcaw/10/i06/html/06chemch.html
www.fda.gov/AboutFDA/WhatWeDo/History/ProductRegulation/SulfanilamideDisaster/default.htm
Strauss's federal drug laws and examination review, by Steven Strauss, CRC Press, 2000


10/20/09

I'd trust a mountain man before I would a city man any day

The [North Carolina Forest Service] offered me a job then, late that summer or early that fall. I went to work, I had a fancy title: in charge of visual education. They had a three-quarter ton International truck. They had a generator bolted down inside this panel truck. I had a movie projector and a trunk about that high, and old silent movies and a screen and film and mending kit, and all that sort of thing, and I went around and showed motion pictures, fire prevention movies, and also game protection pictures; wild life protection.

These mountain people had burned the forest religiously, for years. They had no game laws. Well, they had game laws, but they never respected them. Even to this day, many of them don't respect our game laws. So I went from one county to the other showing these movies. I went back as far as you could get. I had cable, I think, about fifteen hundred feet of cable. If I could get within fifteen hundred feet of one these rural backwoods schoolhouses I could show movies.

I'd have to give them about a twenty-minute spiel before I could show the movies, because if you showed the movies first and then talked, you didn't have an audience.

I showed movies to people fifty years old who'd seen. . . that was the first movie they'd ever seen. I got back into the Smokies as far back as people lived; as far back as you could get; all over Western North Carolina, and go from one county to another.

Later, then in the Fair season I traveled the County Fair circuit and I put up exhibits at the County Fairs. I had exhibits, and I'd stand at those exhibits and talk and try to stop forest fires. I was a preacher, I tell you. So I made the Fair Circuit; go from one County Fair to another; put up these exhibits. I did that from August until, I guess, the latter part of September, or early October, when the County Fairs started in Eastern Carolina. That was in twenty-eight. Nineteen-twenty-eight.

Forest ranger in western North Carolina, 1940Photo taken December 1, 1940 for U.S. Forest Service Southern Research Station Photograph Collection. Caption reads: Most distant peaks are in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, about 70 miles away. Center of picture slightly south of west, from Mt. Mitchell, Black Mountain, N.C.

I would concentrate pretty much in the back woods where the forest fires originate; where the game law violations were concentrated. I've lived with mountain people most of my life. They're better [than other people]; they're more trustworthy. They’re more dependable; more reliable. They've got more character. They are different. I'd trust a mountain man before I would a city man any day. And I've. . .well, there's one or two places I even had my own place at the table.

I'd go in some places. . . and when I was showing these movies, I'd eat my evening meal at the house nearest the school house. . . cornbread and milk, sometimes, and fatback, fried potatoes, onions, leatherbritches beans. It varied considerably, and then sometimes fresh pork, if they'd killed a hog somewhere. But I did stop at one place, and an elderly widow lived alone, I stopped there for my evening meal. Of course, there wasn't a speck of paint inside or outside the house, but the floor was clean. No carpets, but if I'd dropped a piece of cornbread on the floor I wouldn't have hesitated to pick it up and eat it; it looked specklessly clean.

After we'd finished, and . . .I'd offer to pay. You insulted people if you offered to pay for your meal. Yes; you insulted them.

Usually the County Warden was with me. They had a County Fire Warden, and he knew his way around, and usually he went along. So he ran interference for me. He arranged. . . he knew where the school-houses were, and one thing and another. At one place, this elderly widow, after we'd eaten, said: "I have a suit of clothes here I made for my husband. He never wore it. I raised the sheep; I sheared the wool. I carded the wool and I spun the yarn; I dyed the yarn and I wove the cloth and I made the suit." She said, "I'll let you have it for ten dollars."

Well, like a fool, I said, "Well, if it'll fit me." I tried it on and it didn't quite fit. But that would be a collector's item today, and I could have afforded the ten dollars, but I figured, "Those things are everywhere, you know." I didn't have sense enough to recognize what I saw.


William Nothstein
(b. 1902)
Interviewed by Dr. Lewis Silveri, Southern Highlands Research Center [now in D.H. Ramsey Library Special Collections], University of North Carolina at Asheville
July 1, 1976

http://toto.lib.unca.edu/findingaids/oralhistory/SHRC/nothstein_willaim.pdf

10/19/09

Randolph County's Courthouse War

Randolph County is the largest in West Virginia. Timber rich, today much of it is in the Monongahela National Forest. And that wealth of natural resources set the stage for the Courthouse War of the 1890s between the towns of Beverly and Elkins.

Prior to 1898 Beverly was the county seat; one of the oldest east of the Mississippi River. Beverly was a conservative rural southern town in 1890 much like any town of the South.

Beverly WV Court houseBeverly, WV Courthouse. Undated sketch.

But that year U.S. Senator Henry Davis, who was also a prominent coal and timber man, came to Randolph County seeking to deploy resources. He fell upon an area just north of Beverly as a site for a railroad junction from which he could center his operations. Before 1890 the area that was about to become Elkins was home to a scattered rural community known as Leadsville, where the farmers' corn was loaded on boats and floated down river.

Elkins was incorporated in 1890 and renamed for U.S. Senator Stephen Benton Elkins, Davis’ son-in-law. Senator Elkins was a man used to getting his way: he was secretary of war under President Benjamin Harrison and later chairman of the Interstate Commerce Commission under President Theodore Roosevelt. (The original Davis and Elkins estates are now the site of Davis and Elkins College.)

Together Davis and Elkins promoted their agenda of business, industry, and commerce, much in keeping with Northern ambitions and enterprise, in direct contrast to Beverly, the home of the old conservative South.

The new citizens of Elkins began a campaign to have the county seat moved to Elkins. The first county wide referendum was held in 1890 and was defeated. Beverly built a new courthouse in 1894 in the hopes of hanging on to the county seat, but this building was burned down in 1897 under suspicious circumstances.

The court records were returned to the old courthouse for safekeeping. This event revived the efforts to have the county seat moved to Elkins. On the third vote the balloting was close enough to have the election referred to the courts.
A number of Elkins supporters, fearing this would cause endless delay, gathered with weapons to make a surprise assault on the old courthouse in Beverly, intending to move the records themselves.

“Bands of armed men were trained to defend their towns,” says the Elkins version of the story. “Beverly residents heard of the plan and gathered to defend the courthouse and town” is the view from Beverly.

Elkins WV Court houseElkins, WV Courthouse, ca. 1915.

“At one point a special train was formed at Elkins to attack Beverly. The attack was averted, though, by a speech given by C. Wood Dailey, chief counsel for the Western Maryland Railroad,” says the Elkins narrative.

“A delegation of [Beverly] community leaders, particularly Dr. Humboldt Yokum, persuaded the Elkins faction to give up their fight and avoid bloodshed,” counters the Historic Beverly website. Beverly resident S.L. Baker, who later served two terms in the State Senate, also served as a mediator to help solve the county seat controversy.

The court ultimately ruled in Elkins' favor, and the county records were ‘peaceably’ moved to Elkins about 1899,though resistance in Beverly was still stiff.

“Explaining the struggle to control the courthouse in Randolph County, a Pittsburgh newspaper reporter observed that ‘under other circumstances a county seat war might be a mere passing event,’” notes Ronald L. Lewis in Transforming the Appalachian Countryside “but in Randolph County ‘it stood for everything.

“It was the meeting of the old and the new civilization,” a conflict between ‘tradition with all of its sentiment and modern industry with all of its disregard for tradition.’ It was a ‘collision between the young men who believed in business…and the old men who have veneration for their home and the home of their ancestors.’

"The contest was so spirited because it was ‘the ruthless assault of nineteenth century progress upon the posterity of the pioneers’ who settled in the mountains generations before.”

Beverly’s Dr. Yokum, it should be noted as a postscript, by 1912 owned not only his home at Beverly, but several lots of land in Elkins.


sources: Transforming the Appalachian Countryside, by Ronald L. Lewis, University of North Carolina Press, 1998
www.ancientfaces.com/research/story/386313
www.historicbeverly.org/bevhist4.htm
www.wvculture.org/shpo/nr/pdf/randolph/08001240.pdf
www.regionvii.com/images/Randolph_Co_Narrative.pdf

10/18/09

Listen Here: weekly Appalachian History podcast posts today

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 the question: “Did Chicago mobster Al Capone ever set foot in Johnson City, TN?” During the 1920s the town was nicknamed Little Chicago. A reference acknowledging crime ties to the north? Or nothing more than an expression of local pride in the railroads, three of which ran through town?

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.

His beginnings were humble; he was born the son of an immigrant Scottish coal miner in the company town of Lonaconing, MD. But John Gardner Murray (1857-1929) rose to the heights of the Episcopal Church on the national level, becoming the first elected Presiding Bishop in 1926.

Some people have dark dark secrets, like the Aunt Mary of this next segment. Hers is the story of "The Hainted House," from ‘South from Hell-fer-Sartin: Kentucky Mountain Folk Tales,’ and before its over you’ll be wanting to lock the door, close the curtains, ---and especially---check the fireplace.

Alabaman James Pinkney Pittman wasn’t a bad man, but his fondness for liquor didn’t help his community standing any. In his handwritten memoirs he tells us how he was framed for the shooting death of a buddy in a hunting accident during a 3-man outing. He was booked for the killing in the St Clair courthouse, and amazingly, was able to raise bond from a group of strangers who were sympathetic to his position. Perhaps they knew a bit more about the other remaining hunter’s reputation than Pittman did.

What parent wouldn’t be utterly terrified to have their child kidnapped, never to be heard from again? It happened to Mr. and Mrs. James Sage of Clayton County, VA in 1793. Their daughter Katy was chasing butterflies in the side yard one morning, and suddenly she wasn’t there. Sixty years passed, when an Indian agent in Kansas mentioned to Katy’s now grown brother Charles that a woman who looked remarkably like him was living among the Shawnees.

We’ll wrap things up with a look at wooly worms. You could check to see if the bees are flying low, observe the size of the acorns on the trees, or pay close attention to how foggy recent mornings have been in order to gauge what kind of a winter it'll be. 

Easiest of all, you could get yourself over to Banner Elk, NC or Beattysville, KY to each town’s annual Woolly Worm Festival, where the little critters compete for the honor of proclaiming the official winter weather forecast.

And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Library of Appalachia we'll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music by Jim Shumate and Wayne Erbsen in a 1977 recording of the traditional fiddle tune “Cumberland Gap.”

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.

10/16/09

Which way winter? Watch woolly worms!

You could check to see if the bees are flying low, observe the size of the acorns on the trees, or pay close attention to how foggy recent mornings have been in order to gauge what kind of a winter it'll be.

Easiest of all, you could get yourself over to Banner Elk, NC this weekend to the 32th Woolly Worm Festival, where more than 1,000 of the little critters will compete for the honor of proclaiming the official winter weather forecast. Beattysville, KY also hosts a Woolly Worm Festival; this year is their 20th one. At either festival, the worm that most quickly reaches the top of a three-foot piece of string gains fame and glory, makes his mark in local weather history, and wins prize money.

Woolly WormMountain folk use the brown and black stripes on the woolly worm to predict winter's path. Tradition says that the black stripes predict cold and snowy weather, while brown stripes point toward milder conditions. Furthermore, the narrower the band, the harsher the winter. Woolly worms have 13 different bands of color, each representing the 13 weeks of winter from December through March.

The woolly worm is known in the scientific world as Isia Isabella. Other common names for this caterpillar are woolly bears, black-ended bears and banded woolly bears (the name approved by the Entomological Society of America). After hunkering down in a tight ball for the winter, the Isia Isabella will emerge next year as a tiger moth.

The woolly worm’s genus---Pyrrhactia---includes many different species. Some are solid black without any bands, and others have bands of varying sizes. Woolly worms go through six larval stages before entering their pupal or winter cocoon stage. In other words, the caterpillar molts six times and the color and size of its bands may change from molt to molt. Scientists say variations in their bands are linked to differences in species and larval stage, not the weather. But you can still root for your favorites at your favorite Woolly Worm Festival every fall, regardless!

Sources: www.woollyworm.com/node/7
www.mountaintimes.com/mtweekly/2004/1014/isia.php3
www.wtov9.com/weather/9535109/detail.html


10/15/09

No one will live there now: it is believed that the house is hainted

This is the story of the hainted house down by Mrs. Grundy’s house.

Well children, I’ll begin the evening of the quilting bee. When John and me was first married, the married women of the neighborhood all belonged to a club called the Quilting Bee. They met the first week after we’s married and invited me to join the club.

Well, I went to the Quilting Bee and all met at Mrs. Shutt’s, Aunt Mary as everybody called her. She lived in the house that is called the Hainted House now. This was one winter evening and Aunt Mary had a great big fire in the fireplace. We was sitting around the fire piecing quilt tops as fast as fingers could fly. The talk was flying thick and fast as fingers, or faster.

Then Granny Tucker began to talk about secrets. Granny Tucker said, “No one ever kept a secret all their lives without telling hit,” and she said if one person ever knowed anything that nobody else knowed that they always told one other person, at least, before they died.

Well, Aunt Mary rose and said, “I don’t believe this, for I have kept a secret all of sixty-five year without telling hit.”
We hushed and listened to her. Everybody knowed she was wanting to say something special.

“This,” Aunt Mary went on to say, “is my secret. All you kind people remember my good husband Tom, and have wondered why he left me to make a living alone. The fact is he never left me at all. He is still here---right in this house. Fact is Tom is in this very room.”

At this the women looked nervousness around. Aunt Mary never cracked a smile. She waited a second and then went on. “No, don’t look, for you can’t see him. He hain’t alive. He is dead, for I killed him with my own hands sixty-five year ago. I have kept my secret for sixty-five year, and if it wa’n’t for you---“ pointing at Granny Tucker, “I wouldn’t have never told it. Oh, well, it makes mighty little difference anyway. I may as well tell you the rest of it.

“Tom come in one night---the very night he disappeared---and told me he was tired of living here and wanted to move west. I didn’t want to go, and then Tom told me he had a good bit of money saved. I didn’t know he had. Well, he said it amounted to about a thousand dollars in all. I was already mad, and I became very angry when he told me this. I decided, with the place and that money, I could do without Tom purty well, and before Tom knowed what I was doing I grabbed the poker and hit him over the head. He fell, and I bent over and found he was dead.

Dear Reader: Please take a close look at the original version of this photograph. You’ll notice that the blue blob you see in the fireplace is NOT something I added! Trick of the light, OR…?

“Tom had been working on the fireplace and I put him in the opening that was there, and I finished the fireplace, a little at a time. Some of you know I went to my sister’s and stayed after I told that Tom had left me, and by slipping back and fixing a little at a time I soon had Tom sealed in. He is there now. If you don’t believe me, you can open the fireplace and see for yourselves.”

The tale broke up the Quilting Bee, and the women went home and sent their husbands back to find if what Aunt Mary told was true. Part of the men dug out around the fireplace and tore it down, and sure enough, there was a man’s bones behind the jamb rock. The law come to take Aunt Mary away but when they begun to look for her they found she was gone. Finally, they found her dead in the attic. She died the night she told her secret.

People tell now that you can hear Aunt Mary and Tom fussing about midnight if you will go and stand outside the house. No one will live there now. It is believed that the house is hainted.


"The Hainted House," from South from Hell-fer-Sartin: Kentucky Mountain Folk Tales, compiled by Leonard W. Roberts, Univ of Ky Press, Lexington, KY, 1955

10/14/09

When the Grand Jury met, he was not there to appear against me

The following was brought by my father's first cousin, Roy Hodges, to the family gathering following my uncle's funeral in 1985. It was handwritten, and in pencil. James Pinkney Pittman (1855-1946) was the grandfather of my father, Victor Randolph Pittman, Jr.

James Pinkney PittmanThe handwritten text ended in mid-sentence on the last page of the steno pad. Obviously, there is or was at least one more steno pad like it that has been lost.

Judging from the markings on the pad, it appears to have been written some time in the late 1920s or early 1930s. I have endeavored to preserve the original misspellings. No doubt, I have added a few of my own.

---Victor Darrell Pittman, James Pinkney's great-grandson, June 1997




"I got into truble. I went hunting with two men, one was midal eag, the other was young. The young man got killed out in the woods and the other man told evry body that I killed him. Well, I was arested, tryed and put under a ten thousand dollar bond untill the grand jury met. The county seat was Ashville Ala. I did not know a sole in the town. I ask the Sharif what he was going to do with me. I dident want to be put in jale. "Can you make a bond?" "I can try."

"It w now getting dark when w come down out of the court house. Seemed I had the simpthy of older men. Went into a large store. The croud of men folowed us in. I ask the propreator if he would go on a tempry bond untill I could make bond, but when he found out how much the bond was he shook his head. One man in the crowed said he would, then another. So there was a lot of them went on the bond, a temporary bound. I gave my bond to a frend of mine from Springville to see if he could make bond in Springville for me. I wated sevrel days. So I ask the men that signed my bond if tha wood let me go to Springville and try to make my bond, that if I couldent make bond I wood come back. They told me to go.

St. Clair Courthouse, Ashville ALSt. Clair Courthouse, Ashville, AL

"Now there was a Mr. Wood and Miss Vick that was sumoned as witnesses at the trile. Mr. Wood had been going with Miss Vick and wanted her to mary him. So he told her that they w send me to the pen or hang him so she told him that wouldent do him no good, that she would mary me before I went. You see hur friend tryed to keep hur from maring me because I drink a little two much, but that dident do any good.

"Well, back to the bond. I made the bond and sent it in. My friends in Springville went to work on the case. They corned the man that acused me out where the young man was killed and ask him where he was standing when the young man was killed. He showed them & thay traced the shot came from on the undergroth that killed the man. So he got scared and run away. So whe the grand jury met, he was not there to appear against me. So my case w throon out of court and I was clared. You see, he was the onley wittnes. God knows I dident kill him. It was all done axedently."

Full memoir at: The Memoirs of James Pinkney Pittman

10/13/09

Charles saw her---his face became pale

KATY SAGE
THE LOST GIRL OF GRAYSON


By Ex-Judge D. W. Bolen,
"Hillsville Advocate"
Wytheville, VA
Friday, November 5, 1897


The 11th of April, 1793, was a bright and balmy day. Early that morning James Sage went to his "clearing" to prepare his ground for crop. The day opened so bright and clear that Mrs. Sage decided to go and do her week's washing. She left her four children in the cabin and started to a little stream near by to build a fire to heat water to wash with.

As she was leaving the door she saw a number of butterflies wandering about among the shrubbery in the garden and she called her little five-year-old daughter Katy to come and look at the butterflies. The child came and went on into the garden to enjoy a better sight of the gauzy-winged creatures, while the mother went on to build the fire.

After a while the mother returned to get the clothes she intended to wash, but Katy was missing. Mrs. Sage thought the child had wandered off after the butterflies, for the last words she had heard Katy utter was her childish language talking to the pretty butterflies. She went in search of Katy but could not find her. She called her husband and they looked for Katy all day long and all night long, but they did not find her.

The next morning the neighbors for miles and miles around began to gather in and for several long weeks they searched in every direction for Katy, but in vain. After all had been done to find the child that human ingenuity could devise, the neighbors and friends gave up the search as fruitless and returned to their homes.

But James Sage began the search anew. Starting at his cabin door, he examined every square foot of ground for miles and miles around, hoping to find some rag of clothing or some mark, however dim, that might indicate to him the fate of his lost child. But he never found one trace. At last, in his despair, he heard of an old woman in North Carolina known by the name of Granny Moses, who was said to possess the power to reveal mysteries and look into and foretell all human events.

James Sage made a journey across the mountains into the Old North State to see Granny Moses. He found her and in his own way laid before her the whole story of his lost child.

The old women consulted her occult science, gathered up her faculties and told him that his Katy was still alive and well, but she added, "Katy is where you will never see her or hear of her again in this world, but your wife (Mrs. Sage) will outlive you and in her very old age she will hear of Katy but will never see her.”

With broken spirit and sick at heart the man returned home and resumed work in the forest around his cabin. Other children with bright faces and joyous prattle came to join the three that remained at his hearthstone. Other events and other transactions came into the lives of the parents, and to all outward appearances, as the years glided along, the memory of little Katy Sage became more and more like a faded dream.

But as long as the family remained together, when father and mother and children gathered around the embers that glowed between the jambs of the old fireplace on the long winter evening they talked of the missing one.

When thirty-one years had passed since Katy's disappearance James Sage was laid to sleep in a grave in the beautiful Elk Creek Valley, and the message of Granny Moses was the only tidings that had ever reached his ears of his lost child.

Mrs. Sage outlived her husband many years. Her children, as time rolled on, became widely scattered. Some remained in Virginia and others settled in different states and territories in the west. Her son Charles settled in Kansas, and in 1854 he met with an Indian agent there, who one day asked him if he had a sister or female relative among the Shawnee Indians.

Charles answered no. But on reflection he told the agent the story of his sister who had been lost or stolen more than sixty years before.

The agent said that there was a white woman among the Shawnee Indians that bore a most striking resemblance to Charles. The woman was sent for and when Charles saw her his face became pale. It seemed to him that the very image of his mother as she appeared twenty years ago, when he had left the old homestead, lived and glowed in the face and features of the strange woman. He believed her to be his long lost sister.

She could not speak a word of English, but through an interpreter she told them that she had been stolen away from her home in Virginia by a white man when she was a small child, that he took her to the Cherokee Indians and she never saw him again, that she had lived among the Cherokees awhile, and then with the Creeks, and finally with the Shawnees, that she had been three times married to distinguished Indian Chiefs and had bore one son, that her husbands had all died and she was a widow now for the third time and her son had recently died, that her name was Katy, and that she had retained that name in all her wanderings and travels through different countries and among different Indian tribes.

Charles got her to go home with him and he at once wrote to his brother Samuel, who lived in Missouri, to come and see if he could recognize her. Samuel was older and could remember Katy. Samuel came and saw the woman and heard her history and believed her to be his sister.

The brothers then wrote to their mother, who was still living at the old place on Elk Creek, and told her about the woman they believed to be their sister, and asked the mother to tell them all she could remember about Katy. The mother was then near her ninetieth birthday, but on hearing the letter read. her memory revived and she said almost instantly: "Write and tell the boys that my daughter Katy has a ginger-colored birth mark on her shoulder," and then she went on and described the mark, and the very spot described by the mother was found upon the shoulder of the woman in Charles Sage’s house.

Her identification was now complete and beyond question, and the brothers decided to take her home to their mother at once, and Katy was anxious to go. Arrangements for the journey were made, but just as they were ready to start Katy was seized with pneumonia and died, disappearing from the world just as suddenly as when a child chasing butterflies on Elk Creek.


source: http://wc.rootsweb.ancestry.com/cgi-bin/igm.cgi?op=GET&db=bobbuckles&id=I05261

10/12/09

The boyhood attraction was there for a higher life

His beginnings were humble; he was born the son of an immigrant Scottish coal miner in the company town of Lonaconing, MD. But John Gardner Murray (1857-1929) rose to the heights of the Episcopal Church on the national level, becoming the first elected Presiding Bishop in 1926.

penny postcard of Lonaconing MD Until the church began electing a Presiding Bishop in 1925, the fifteen previous holders of that office had automatically assumed the position by being the most senior bishop in the House of Bishops, measured by their dates of consecration.

The following ‘Tribute From a Boyhood Friend,’ published in the Baltimore Sun on October 8, 1929 shortly after Bishop Murray’s death, gives a sense of the man’s character formation at the start of his remarkable journey.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE SUN:

Sir:
Now that the high tributes have been paid to the great leader of the Protestant Episcopal Church, the writer wishes to give a word of remembrance of the boyhood and youth of John Gardner Murray.

One year his senior, I think of him as far back as a boy’s memory can go and always with satisfaction. Born in Lonaconing, he often reminded me after he became bishop that my father was the physician that brought him into the world.

For awhile I was a year ahead of him at school, remembering back to the eighth year. He was soon in the same classes, and as the school years passed, he grew larger and stronger, and to me as a lad handsomer than any boy I knew. I found myself as a youth of 15 holding this boy of 14 before me as an ideal character, for in the mining town where boys heard on every side that one must "sow his wild oats" he had clean thoughts, clean lips and a clean life.

The day comes before me when (15 years of age) I stood with John and two other schoolmates in the vestibule of the school and we talked of having "found God," and what we should do concerning the church. I united with the church and soon went to Ohio to school. John did not join the Methodist church for some time, but as he put it to me later "I became a mule-driver in the Jackson mine." Of the right sort, I am sure.

The lines of our lives did not often meet, but when they did he seemed the older, and the boyhood attraction was there for a higher life. This summer I found a letter that I had written to my father from my first charge as a minister fifty years ago, telling him of a long letter from John, giving his plans for his lifework, asking about Drew Theological Seminary, and whether as a local preacher he could get a small church to help pay expenses. He entered Drew that October, 1879, remaining two years when he was called West to help support the family on account of the death of his father.

Bishop John Gardner MurrayPortrait from 1896-1903 period, when Rev. Murray was rector of the Church of the Advent in Birmingham, AL.

It is well known what a successful businessman he was, both in Kansas and Alabama. He kept his connection with the Methodists until 1887, when he was confirmed in the Protestant Episcopal Church in Alabama.

When the call came in 1903 to become rector of St. Michael’s and All Angels’, Baltimore, he phoned me to come to the church and talk the matter over. He was in high spirits, for he had taken Mrs. Murray to "dear old Cony," as he called it, that he might show her the small house where he was born. He ought not have been disappointed that no one recognized the tall, handsome man as he walked through the town, but what an ovation they gave him in the store when they found out that he was John Gardner Murray!

This letter is not to call attention to the great churchman, but to tell of the influence of one boy upon another boy, the unconscious influence of a pure minded schoolmate that wrought for nobler living.

Frank Gibson Porter
Baltimore, Oct. 8, 1929

10/10/09

Listen Here: weekly Appalachian History podcast posts today

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 ginseng’s place in Appalachia. Ginseng’s hold on our consciousness has been strong for a long long time. Its root is famed as being a cure for almost every sort of ill, and an antidote for every poison. Right now is the heart of plant’s harvesting season. The berry clusters have ripened. The leaves are yellowing. The roots are ready. But stay awhile. The best hunting is still to come, after the first hard frost.

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.

Halloween’s around the corner. What better time for a haint tale from east Tennessee? Jim Blevins, a school teacher in Clarktown, was no stranger to supernatural occurrences, so when strange things started happening in his cabin, he prepared for the worst. He got a surprise that was as embarrassing to him as it is amusing to us.

Eddie Crock and Joe Fisher, who owned establishments across the street from one another in Fulda, OH, spent a lot of time in each other’s place of business, visiting with each other and the customers. They got to having a morning eye opener each day until it got to be a must. This went on for years without missing a morning.
 They made a pledge with each other, that if one died the other would bring an eye opener and visit the grave. Joe died first, and Eddie made good on the promise, but with a twist.

Alabama is "updating its historical presence in the U.S. Capitol, swapping out a statue of a former congressman for a new bronze likeness of Helen Keller," the AP reports.

The Keller statue, unveiled October 7, 2009, is the first in the National Statuary Hall Collection depicting a person with a disability and the only one of a child. Showing Keller as a 7-year-old girl, it replaces one of Jabez Lamar Monroe Curry, a former Confederate officer, educator, ambassador and preacher who advocated for free universal education.

This year is the 229th anniversary of the Battle of King’s Mountain, a turning point in the Revolutionary War. Large thanks for the American victory in that engagement go to the Overmountain Men, whose patriotism had not been stimulated by any tax-gatherer — they had never seen one ; nor by any tax on tea — save the root of the sassafras, they drank none ; nor by any stamp duty — they knew no more of a stamp than they did of the King's signet ring. They rushed to the rescue of their country as a boy would fly to his mother, on a shriek of distress.

We’ll wrap things up with a look at the annual Plum Nelly Clothesline Art Show. Up until the early 1970s, if you found yourself surrounded by Lookout Mountain’s crisp autumn air, steaming apple cider and hot gingerbread, handmade dolls, working craftspeople and sawdust trails through the woods punctuated by the pottery of Charles Counts and the woodblock prints of Fannie Mennen, you had probably landed smack in the middle of it.
And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Archive we'll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music by Ernest Phipps in a 1935 recording of “Don’t Grieve After Me.”

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.

10/9/09

Eddie said he was just keeping his pledge to Joe

You could get the best refreshments in Fulda, OH at the Fisher Saloon. It was hopps fired brewed German beer, sparkling and crystal clear. Mrs. Frank Fisher grew the family's own hopps, fire cooked brewed the hopps, set them in a 10-gallon stone jar with sugar added, let it ferment for five days till worked off, then bottled, let set for five more days, then it was ready to drink. It was very good; people would come for miles to get a drink.

Frank came to this country as a single man. He married Margaret Hupp, and they built their home on Lot 7 in Fulda and raised 7 children there. Frank had learned the cobbler business from his father in Fulda, Germany. He ran the cobbler shop in the same room Margaret ran the saloon, so you could have a good drink while you got your shoes repaired or your harness or saddle repaired.

Fisher Saloon in Fulda, OH.Fisher Saloon in Fulda, OH.

Eventually, Joseph Fisher took over the cobbler shop from his dad. Joseph was a bachelor. After his mother died he and Eddie Crock became great pals. Eddie and Rosey Crock bought the Ed Johanning home and store, which was directly across the street from the Fisher Saloon.

Eddie and Joe spent a lot of time in each other’s place of business, visiting with each other and the customers. They got to having a morning eye opener each day until it got to be a must. This went on for years without missing a morning.

They made a pledge with each other, that if one died the other would bring an eye opener and visit the grave. Joe died first and was buried in the 3rd addition to the cemetery, which was in sight of the church.

Each morning Eddie got up and poured two glasses of schnaps, one for Joe and one for himself. He would pick up Joe’s in his left hand and his in the right hand, tap them together and say “Here’s to you Joe,” then up and drink his, turn around and drink Joe’s.

He would then get his walking stick and along with old Shep, walk up past the church and down through the cemetery to Joe’s grave. He’d lean against Joe’s tombstone, take his left hand, open his fly and pee on the grass in front of the tombstone, and say “Here’s to you, Joe.” Then he’d rest a little bit and walk back home.

Eddie did this for several years each morning without fail.

Father Donaldson came to Fulda as the parish priest and noticed Eddie going by the church each morning at 8:00 AM prompt and that Eddie went to the same tombstone. One day when Eddie was going home, Father asked Eddie why he always went at exactly 8:00 AM and to the same tombstone. Eddie told him that was the grave of his pal Joseph Fisher, that he and Joe always had a morning eye opener for over 40 years, and that he was taking Joe’s down to him. Father said he never saw Eddie carrying an eye opener and it looked more like he was peeing on Joe instead. Eddie said he was just keeping his pledge to Joe, but he hadn't said he wouldn't run it through his kidneys first.


from Life of John Crock and Descendants, Born in 1811, Father of all Crocks in Ohio, by Leander Crock, publ. by Noble County University, Caldwell, OH, 1996 Online at http://bit.ly/qls9Z

10/8/09

New Helen Keller statue graces US Capitol

Alabama is "updating its historical presence in the U.S. Capitol, swapping out a statue of a former congressman for a new bronze likeness of Helen Keller," the AP reports.

The Keller statue, unveiled yesterday, is the first in the National Statuary Hall Collection depicting a person with a disability and the only one of a child. Showing Keller as a 7-year-old girl, it replaces one of Jabez Lamar Monroe Curry, a former Confederate officer, educator, ambassador and preacher who advocated for free universal education.

Each state "has two statues in the Capitol as part of the Capitol collection, which was permanent until 1992, when Congress allowed for changes." The monument to Keller will permanently reside in the Main Hall of the new 580,000-square-foot Capitol Visitor's Center.

Below are the Speaker Nancy Pelosi's remarks at the unveiling:

"Members of House and Senate Leadership, Governor Riley, President Augusto and members of the Keller family: What a great day this is for America in the Capitol of the United States as we honor Helen Keller.

"Most people know about Helen Keller as a child - full of curiosity and wonder at the world that was opened to her. Today we recognize her as that child, but also as the woman she became: civic-minded, politically active, and a standard bearer for the great causes of her age and of ours.

Helen Keller statute in US Capitol"As Helen Keller said: 'My sympathies are with all who struggle for justice.' In her lifetime, Helen Keller worked for opportunity for people with disabilities, for racial equality, and for the rights of women.

"In demonstrating that passion that she had, Helen Keller, in this statue in the Capitol, will always remind us that people must be respected for what they can do, rather than judged for what they cannot. Helen Keller ignited a century marked by progress for people with disabilities. We have made progress rooted in our national ideal that we are all created equal.

"For more than 30 years, a free and appropriate education for all children with disabilities has been required. For almost 20 years, fundamental civil rights for people with disabilities have been assured by the Americans with Disabilities Act. For a generation, closed captioning for televisions and relay services have helped remove barriers to participation in society. Let me also thank our signers who are here today.

"And just last year - under the leadership of Majority Leader Hoyer and Congressman Sensenbrenner - Congress reasserted protections for anyone who faces discrimination on the basis of a disability.

"But more needs to be done. To honor Helen Keller's life, I know that our nation will continue its bipartisan commitment to ensuring full participation for people with disabilities in all aspects of our society.

"As science advances and technology opens new doors of opportunity, we must ensure that our laws keep pace with these new developments so their benefits are available to all people. We must remove all barriers to people with disabilities, so that they are able to exercise their right to vote, engage with public officials, run for office, and fully participate in the economic, social, and cultural opportunities that the Internet provides.

"In regard to these new opportunities, I am proud to tell you, in case you do not know, that soon the podium of the U.S. House of Representatives will be adjusted so persons with disabilities may preside over the proceedings of House of Representatives.

"I'll join my colleagues in quoting Mark Twain, who once wrote that 'Helen Keller is fellow to Caesar, Alexander, Napoleon, Homer, Shakespeare, and the rest of the immortals.' As Steny said: 'She will be as famous a thousand years from now as she is today.'

"Helen Keller's life is an example of determination and strength. Here, in this temple of our democracy, year after year, day after day, Helen Keller's statue will stand as a testament to her strength and to the American ideal of equality, which she promoted."

sources: www.cnbc.com/id/33210745
http://www.helenkellerfoundation.org/HK-statue.asp
http://senatus.wordpress.com/2009/10/07/alabama-unveils-helen-keller-statue

10/7/09

Battle of King's Mountain---229th anniversary is today

It is recorded that on the date agreed upon, every able-bodied gunman, with the exception of two, in that settlement, extending about one hundred miles either way, was there ready to march and ready to fight. Not only so, but the heart strings of many a wife had drawn her there, to bid the stay of the household again goodbye and again Godspeed, as he again went forth to battle. Many a mountain maiden was there, warned by a threatening danger to a brother, or to one dearer than a brother.

It was determined to take half the men, leaving half to defend the homes, but the mountains were on fire. It was decided that the old and young should go back home.

Still, too many crowded to go, and the military draft had to be resorted to. Black and white beans were placed in a gourd, and a little blindfolded girl drew a bean for each man, a black bean meant a draft, and the man that was drafted to stay at home. This is the only military draft, for war, in what is now Tennessee, and for this reason your only daughter— God bless her— is still called "TheVolunteer State."

John Sevier had two sons in that throng, Joseph, eighteen years of age, and James, two years younger. Joseph was to go with his father, and James to stay. But the mother, " Bonnie Kate," led the lad by the hand to his father, and, in words which would have honored a Spartan mother, told him her son's heart and her own would be broken, should he be left behind. The boy went, and — was buried on Kings Mountain. Twenty men could not be mounted, but they were allowed to go on foot.

Such things as commissaries, quartermasters, ordinance officers, were not known to these men, and, of course, not needed. Their patriotism had not been stimulated by any tax-gatherer — they had never seen one ; nor by any tax on tea — save the root of the sassafras, they drank none ; nor by any stamp duty — they knew no more of a stamp than they did of the King's signet ring. They rushed to the rescue of their country as a boy would fly to his mother, on a shriek of distress.

They started with a few cattle, which were soon abandoned in the woods, and what meat they used on the march was won by the rifle out of the woods. Their last act beside that babbling river, was to gather around the Saintly Doak, who, with hands outstretched to heaven, with all the fervor of Elijah on Mount Carmel, besought the blessing of The God of Battles upon that reverent host, and gave them, as their Amulet, the words, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon."

Let me point my finger at those men as they file away, and show them to you. You will note that Sevier, like Ferguson, rides a white horse — always a mark of danger. They were mostly young men — hardly a leader among them as old as forty, sturdy of body — intent of mind. Some few had swords and pistols, all flint lock guns and hunting knives, on which you might usually see the imprint of the hammer. Behind the saddle was rolled a home-made blanket, of which many bed had been bereft, and around their shoulders hung strained haversacks.

The usual head covering was a coon skin, fashioned into a cap, with the tail, like a cue, hanging behind — bark-brown hunting shirt, ornamented with such fringes, as some woman devised, breeches of any kind or color of cloth, leather moccasins, buckskin leggings — all with shot pouches and powder. Occasionally an officer or a lucky man might be found with a Continental coat. Hunters in front and on flank deployed to capture any possible game, but the constant ration was parched corn, pounded into meal, sprinkled on water, and drunk from cup, gourd or crumpled leaf.

The Battle of Kings Mountain--From a painting by F. C. Yohn"The Battle of Kings Mountain." From a painting by F. C. Yohn.

I need not delay by telling how they climbed and went down the mountains by untraveled paths — how the two McDowell's, who had been among them, rejoined them on this side of the mountains, as did Cleveland, Williams, and others, with about six hundred more men, while they advanced in hot pursuit of Ferguson. The down east Whigs got news of the coming, and took courage.

Ferguson, constantly on the alert, got news of this "Coming of the Campbells" in reply to his letter, and, out of abundant caution, began to sidle towards Cornwallis. These men soon learned that their game was flushed, and all speed was to be made to prevent fortifications or escape.

Several dispatches to Cornwallis were captured, from which we knew that Ferguson was distrustful of the Tory part of his troops, and wanted Tarleton. The last dispatch was taken from a country young man named Ponder, from whom the location of Ferguson's camp was learned, and also his boast that "all the rebels out of hell could not drive him from it."

Following historical accounts, there is widespread opinion that this camp and battle were on Kings Mountain.


---excerpt from
KINGS MOUNTAIN AND ITS CAMPAIGN.
AN ADDRESS BY
Col. W. A. Henderson,
ON OCCASION OF THE
Unveiling of a Monument
to its Heroes
AT
Guilford Battleground,
July 4th, 1903.
Online at http://www.archive.org/stream/kingsmountainits00hend/kingsmountainits00hend_djvu.txt

10/6/09

Plumb out of Tennessee and nearly out of Georgia

Up until the early 1970s, if you found yourself surrounded by Lookout Mountain’s crisp autumn air, steaming apple cider and hot gingerbread, handmade dolls, working craftspeople and sawdust trails through the woods punctuated by the pottery of Charles Counts and the woodblock prints of Fannie Mennen, you had probably landed smack in the middle of the annual Plum Nelly Clothesline Art Show.

pillow by Fannie Mennen, Plum Nelly GATrapunto Pillow (Plant) by Fannie Mennen.

Plum Nelly is not actually a town, but a sort of farm name. It is "Plum" out of Tennessee and "Nelly" out of Georgia. This two-acre crafts center in the New Salem community, located on a spur of Lookout Mountain, was owned by artist Fannie Mennen (1903-1995). And there she conducted her annual "clothes line" art show for 26 years starting in 1947.

The Chattanooga native did not consider herself an artist until after she had taught art in schools for many years. Stricken with polio in her first year of life, Fannie's childhood years in the early 20th century were marked by many doctor visits, surgeries and long convalesces. Despite her physical handicaps, Fannie studied music and art at Peabody College in Nashville, TN.

For many years she assumed that she herself was not an artist, but nonetheless recognized how she naturally inspired others to do artwork. For thirty years she taught art in Chattanooga, and on weekends she would retreat to her studio/home in Rising Fawn, GA. In the quiet of Plum Nelly Fannie would paint watercolor pictures of the wildlife around her.

One Christmas, she and a group of artist friends decided to make linoleum block-print holiday cards. Fascinated by the possibilities in printmaking, Fannie knew she had found her medium. For the rest of her working life she was a prolific printmaker, depicting scenes and sayings of the rural mountains. Working from a wheelchair most of the time, Fannie was known for her tireless commitment to her work and the arts community.

In 1947, on the second weekend in October, she invited local artists to hold an outdoor art show at her home. Called the Plum Nelly Clothesline Art Show, it attracted 300 visitors the first year, raising money for a local bookmobile. In the following years it became enormously successful, attracting as many as 16,000 people up the winding roads to the perilous bluff for the two-day, outdoor event. The arts and crafts represented were some of the finest in the region, and the Clothesline Art Show did much to develop the art community around Chattanooga. Georgia’s New Salem Mountain Festival continues this tradition annually every fall, and is now held at the New Salem Community Center.


source: www.carolinaarts.com/200folkart.html

10/5/09

Ginseng, the curious rootstock

It’s the heart of ginseng harvesting season. The berry clusters have ripened. The leaves are yellowing. The roots are ready. But stay awhile. The best hunting is still to come, after the first hard frost.

Ginseng rootBut don’t wait too long. Because of wild ginseng’s endangered status, the U.S.Fish and Wildlife Service has mandated that states allowing its export have protective regulations in place. Consequently, most states have adopted a late-summer through early-fall ginseng hunting season.

"I remember digging ginseng when I was six years old. I've always seen it as a big equalizer for people from Appalachia," says Fred Hays of Elkview, WV, spokesman for the West Virginia Ginseng Growers Association, noting that the harvest surges when unemployment is high or the region's coal miners are on strike and ginseng becomes an alternative income for many. Drought has taken a toll this year, deer have eaten the leaves, turkeys eat the seeds, and rodents go after the root itself. But the harvest makes it worthwhile. Full article here.

Notice the link above takes you not to the Charleston Gazette or the Dominion Post in Morgantown, but to Reuters UK! The British typify a widespread attitude beyond America’s borders, which is that, while ginseng can be found in many parts of the continent besides Appalachia---Panax quinquefolius' range includes the eastern half of North America, from Quebec to Minnesota and south to Georgia and Oklahoma---ginseng and Appalachia are seen to simply go hand in hand.

Ginseng’s hold on our consciousness has been strong for a long long time. Alice Lounsberry’s comments from "Southern Wildflowers and Trees," published in 1901, capture the gist of it well: "Its true value lies, as we know, in its curious rootstock, long famed as being a cure for almost every sort of ill, and an antidote for every poison. Even the word panacea is believed by many to have been derived from its generic name. In China, where it has been largely cultivated and also exported from that country in immense quantities, it is still regarded as being possessed of properties more powerfully stimulating to the human system than those of any other drug."

So if it’s such a wonder drug, and the Chinese are cultivating it, why hasn’t it simply taken its place in our country as a Big Agriculture cash crop, next to soybeans or tobacco?

“You can cultivate that stuff,” says Lake Stiles in Foxfire 3, “and it won’t bring you half as much as wild ginseng. If it’s cultivated, it makes a great big root. If it’s wild, it’s just a small root. But you can’t get by with cultivated sang with a [ginseng dealer] who knows what he’s doing.”

Wild ginseng favors mature hardwood stands where the terrain is sloping to the north and east. Panax quinquefolium loves a moist but well-drained and thick litter layer with more than just a tad of undergrowth. You will find yourself looking at a lot of other species of plants for the prize. A young hickory or Virginia creeper will confuse the beginner.

So: it’s highly sought, it’s an endangered species, its hunting season is fairly narrow, it's easily confused with other plants, and you have to look in very particular areas on a mountain or in a holler. Should be enough to keep British reporters intrigued for years to come.


sources: http://forestry.about.com/od/alternativeforest/ss/panax_ginseng_4.htm
http://uk.reuters.com/article/lifestyleMolt/idUKN2836786520071001
Foxfire 3 (Anchor Press/Doubleday, Garden City, NY 1973) p. 254


10/4/09

Listen Here: weekly Appalachian History podcast posts today

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 excerpt from the journal of Daniel Trabue. In his youth Trabue (1760-1840) served as a Virginia soldier in the Revolutionary War. We’ll follow him through the Cumberland Gap tracking Indians as part of an expeditionary group authorized by the Virginia legislature; he admits he wasn’t always as fearless as a soldier was expected to be.

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 we’ll trace the career of Ida Cox, a pioneering blues singer who, along with Gertrude "Ma" Rainey and Bessie Smith, founded the female blues genre. As Smith and Rainey achieved success and popularity, Cox’ record company countered by promoting her as the "Uncrowned Queen of the Blues.”

In the belly and guts of the Depression, Elmer Mullenax never succumbed to the great temptation to which so many did succumb—jump off a skyscraper, blow your brains out with a shotgun, or just go to bed and never get up, become an invalid, first through fear and then complete physical collapse.
His son Foster tells us how his parents reacted when the family’s West Virginia lumber business went bankrupt.

Anderson, SC was the first city in the United States to have a continuous supply of electric power and the first in the world to create a cotton gin operated by electricity. 

William C. Whitner, a native of Anderson, was largely the man responsible for the place becoming known as “The Electric City.”

Though few Civil War battles were fought there, Southwestern Virginia was critically important to the Confederacy. One reason was the salt works in Saltville, which provided the Confederacy's main source of salt, used as a preservative for army rations. 

Two battles took place there in an effort to control the works.

We’ll wrap things up with a look at Frances Hodgson Burnett (1849-1924), who left an indelible mark on children's literature. Her writing provided a path to the secret garden in all of us that is often lost in adulthood. But her own childhood was far from idyllic. Her family was hurled from upper middle class comfort in Manchester, England to hard scrabble poverty in New Market, TN. Her rise from there was nothing short of amazing.

And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Library of Appalachia we'll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music by Arthur Kuykendall in a 1965 recording of the classic “Ain’t Gonna Rain No More.”

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.

10/2/09

We don't own anything, not a damned thing

"Over the dam," some would have said; others would say "Mark it up to experience"; and those persons with much greater financial means than Elmer might have said "Just write it off for tax purposes." Yet, in the belly and guts of the Depression, he never succumbed to the great temptation to which so many did succumb—jump off a skyscraper, blow your brains out with a shotgun, or just go to bed and never get up, become an invalid, first through fear and then complete physical collapse.

Had Elmer been living in the city when Keystone Lumber bellied up, he might have entertained an alternative to trying like hell all over again. He knew all too well that the old adage---that lightning never strikes twice in the same place---was not necessarily true. It could happen again.

Roosevelt was his hope for the future, and somehow, some day, he would clear the debt to the sawyer, and he would be able to struggle along with what he owed the banks. He told Sylvia, "Hell, if I give up now, that's it, we're through, never have a damned thing. At the rate things are goin' now we won't even be able to make the farm payment, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit down and pity myself."

"I don't know, Elmer, things look pretty bad, and as long as we owe Mr. Stalnaker we can't have anything," Sylvia remarked as they lay in bed in the dark contemplating the here and now, and worrying about the prospects for the future.

"Well, if I don't get paid, he can't get paid."

"He can sue you to get it," said Sylvia, propping herself up on her right elbow above her wide-awake man.

"Sue and be damned," Elmer stormed, irritated at the thought, for he was pretty sure that this is what would happen, and soon. "Let him go ahead and sue. Fact is, he's already said he's going to. But what can he get? Not an earthly thing. We don't own anything, not a damned thing he can touch, and I've already told him that."

"You've talked to him about it?"

"Sure, I've talked to him about it," Elmer said fiercely. "I went down to his house there on Quality Hill, back up there on Second Quality; they have a real nice house up there. I talked to him a long time, and he’s a reasonable man; he’s not mad or anything, but he needs his money."

"He knows you don't have any money, doesn't he?" Sylvia asked.

"Oh sure he knows, but he owes Herman Lambert's grocery store, and he owes Minear's Hardware store and Bell Swisher's service station, he told me, and he has borrowed some money at the First National Bank. So, I know he's gonna have to sue me to try to get what I owe him, because the people he owes will be pushin' him to get their money."

"Elmer, we'll never be able to have anything. I can see it right now. Never."


from Sugarlands, by Foster Mullenax, McClain Printing, Parsons WV, 2001

Mullenax (1927-2005) was born and raised in Sugarlands, WV. Sugarlands is a biographical novel of his parents Elmer Jackson Mullenax and Sylvia Catherine Knotts Mullenax.

10/1/09

Salt thus manufactured is of the purest quality, white and beautiful as the driven snow

Though few Civil War battles were fought there, Southwestern Virginia was critically important to the Confederacy. One reason was the salt works in Saltville, which provided the Confederacy's main source of salt, used as a preservative for army rations.

Two battles took place in an effort to control the works. In the first, on October 2, 1864, Brig. Gen. Stephen G. Burbridge's Union cavalry column struck, but was defeated by Southern forces patched together from several reserve units, commanded by Brig. Gen. John Echols & Maj. Gen. John C. Breckinridge. However, Union General George Stoneman's troops overwhelmed the town on December 20, and this time managed to destroy the saltworks.

Interior of Saltworks at Saltville, VAInterior of Saltworks at Saltville, VA, 1864-5.

In its coverage of the battles, Harper's Weekly provided an interesting side bar discussing how salt was produced:

The salt manufactured here is of the very best quality. The works have been deemed so important by the rebels that a Richmond paper lately declared the loss of Savannah an inferior consideration.

"The valley at the head of which Saltville stands," says Porte Crayon [onsite sketch artist for the newspaper], "contains several hundred acres of rich meadow. It is surrounded by a chain of conical hills, from 500 to 800 feet in height, so regularly formed that, but for their extent, they might be mistaken for artificial mounds.

"At the distance of 230 feet below the surface is a bed of fossil salt. The salt is procured by sinking beds to the depth of the salt bed, when the water rises within 46 feet of the surface, and is raised from thence by pumps into large tanks, or reservoirs, elevated a convenient distance above the surface. The brine thus procured is a saturated solution, and for every hundred gallons yields twenty-two gallons of pure salt.

"The process of manufacturing it is very simple. An arched furnace is constructed, probably 150 feet in length, with the doors at one end and the chimney at the other. Two rows of heavy iron kettles, shaped like shallow bowls, are built into the top of the furnace. Large wooden pipes convey the brine from the tanks to these kettles, where the water is evaporated by boiling, while the salt crystallizes and is precipitated.

"During the operation a white saline vapor rises from the boilers, the inhalation of which is said to cure diseases of the lungs and throat. At regular intervals an attendant goes round and with a mammoth ladle dips out the salt, chucking it into loosely woven split baskets, which are placed in pairs over the boilers. Here it drains and drips until the dipper has gone his round with the ladle.

"It is then thrown into the salt-shells, immense magazines on either side of the furnaces. The salt thus manufactured is of the purest quality, white and beautiful as the driven snow. Indeed, on seeing the men at work in the magazines, with pick and shovel, a novice would swear they were working in a snow-bank: while the pipes and reservoirs, which at every leak become coated over with snowy concretions, sparkling like hoar-frost and icicles in the sun, serve to confirm the wintry illusion.

"To avoid land-carriage the brine is piped to the banks of the Holston, and manufactured on the spot. The salt is packed in barrels and is carried Westward down the river, or Eastward on the railroad. An immense coopering establishment is the characteristic adjunct of the lower salt-works."


sources: Harper's Weekly, January 14, 1865; online at www.sonofthesouth.net/leefoundation/civil-war/1865/january/making-salt.htm
www.history.com/this-day-in-history.do?action=Article&id=2339

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