Appalachian History

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 story from the boyhood of Ulysses S. Grant. Grant, the 18th U.S. President and Union general-in-chief during the Civil War, grew up in Georgetown, OH, the son of an Ohio tanner. In this segment from Grant’s memoirs he describes trading a horse with a Kentucky farmer when he was fifteen. Trouble was, the horse had never pulled a carriage before. Grant bought it anyway, much to his regret when halfway home the horse starting bucking the carriage wildly. It says quite a bit about the future soldier how he solved the problem, as you’ll hear.

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.

On Oct. 14, 1980, Stella Fuller Day was proclaimed by the mayor of Huntington, WV to acknowledge her lifelong efforts in helping the poor and disadvantaged of that community. And in 2008 she was posthumously inducted into the Greater Huntington Wall of Fame for her 60 years of service. But she wasn’t always so well honored. After 25 years of exceptional service with the Huntington chapter of the Salvation Army she was expecting to be nominated for the top job in the post. But she left under a cloud, bitter at the back room politics of it all. The story has a silver lining, however, and one that she herself did not anticipate.

Even in the 1930s he thought of himself as both a journalist and a hiker in equal measure. “I’ve learned,” said Louisville, KY native Howard Hardaway in a late life interview, “that the most interesting places are not right on the road. On the back roads, at the little country stores where the road crews gather for a quart of milk and a moon pie, that’s where you find some real historians.” In this excerpt from a Louisville Courier-Journal article he introduces us to some backwoods characters from Clinton County, KY.

"You want to know when l really entered public life. I did not enter; I was shot into it, as by a catapult, and I learned politics in front of Gatling guns and Mauser rifles,” says Rebecca Latimer Felton. Until late in her life, Felton saw her career as tied completely to her husband's. William Felton served three terms (1875-81) in the U.S. Congress. From 1884 to 1890 he served another three terms in Georgia’s state legislature. In this selection from Mrs. Felton’s book “Country Life in Georgia in the Days of My Youth” she furiously attacks North Georgia politicians who made millions off the convict lease system of the late nineteenth century.

We’ll wrap things up with a quick look at the song ‘Liza Jane,’ an old mountain ballad. Two influential recordings were made of the tune in the 1920's which helped spread its popularity among early country musicians.

And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Archive, we’ll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music from Gerry Dempsey, Ian Jacks and Tom Joad in a 2004 recording of the traditional tune “St. Anne’s Reel.”

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.

When I go a-courtin',
I'll go on the train.
When I go to marry,
I'll marry Liza Jane.

Chorus:
O Law', Liza, po' gal,
O Law', Liza Jane,
O Law', Liza, po' gal,
She died on the train.

The hardest work I ever did
Was a-brakin'on a train;
The easiest work I ever did
Was a-huggin' Liza Jane.

When I went to see her,
She met me at the door;
Her shoes and stockings in her hand,
And her feet all over the floor.

When I went to see her,
She wrung her hands and cried;
She swore I was the ugliest thing
That ever lived or died.

I ask little Liza to marry me-
What do you reckon she said?
Said she would not marry me,
If everybody else was dead.

Goin' up the mountain
To raise a patch of cane,
To make a barrel of sorghum
To sweeten up Liza Jane.

Whisky by the barrel,
Sugar by the pound,
A great big bowl to put it in,
And a spoon to stir it round.

I wish I had a needle and a thread
As fine as I could sew,
I would sew all the girls to my coat-tail,
And down the mountain I'd go.
Old corn likker's done made,
Still's tore out an'gone.
What will pore little Liza do,
When I'm took off an' gone?

Don't you weep, my darling,
Don't you weep nor cry;
I'll be back to see you
In the long old by-and-by.

You can climb the cherry tree,
And I will climb the rose;
How I love that pretty little gal,
God'lmighty knows.

From American Ballads and Folk Songs, Alan Lomax, Macmillan Company, New York, 1934

Two influential recordings were made of the 'Liza Jane' tune in the 1920's which helped spread its popularity among early country musicians, says music historian Charles Wolfe (1991). The first was by the east Tennessee string band The Hill Billies, who released it under the title "Mountaineer’s Love Song," and the second was by another band from the same area, the Tenneva Ramblers, as "Miss Liza, Poor Gal." Bob Wills (Texas), the father of western swing, said this was the first tune he learned (as "Goodbye, Miss Liza Jane") to fiddle.

Here is a list of early recordings:

Old Liza Jane- Uncle Am Stuart 1924
Liza Jane - Riley Puckett 1924
Liza Jane - Henry Whitter 1925
Goodbye Liza Jane - Fiddlin' John Carson 1926
Mountaineer's Love Song - The Hillbillies 1926
Miss Liza Poor Gal - Tenneva Ramblers 1928
Liza Jane - Carter Brothers and Son 1928
Old Eliza Jane - Doc Roberts and Asa Martin 1928
Liza Up the Simmon Tree - Bradley Kincaid 1928
Poor Mary Jane - Charlie Craver 1928
Liza Up the 'Simmon Tree - Bradley Kincaid 1929
Liza Jane - Kessinger Brothers 1931


sources:www.bluegrassmessengers.com/master/blackthemboots4.html
www.blueridgemusiccenter.org/The_Hill-Billies.aspx


bluegrass+lyrics The+Hill+Billies Tenneva+Ramblers appalachia appalachian+mountains+history appalachian+history

EVERY CREEK'S A STORY IN CLINTON COUNTY
Ridge hikes and crossroad chats yield a bumper crop of legends 
down near the Tennessee border.

By Howard Hardaway ---Louisville Courier-Journal, no date, 1930s


The ‘New Era’ is Clinton County, Kentucky's only newspaper. W. H. Nunn has been the publisher for a number of years. He tells a story on his predecessor of forty years ago.

"Tom Neat, of Adair County, was running for office in a district that included Clinton," Mr. Nunn relates. "The editor of the New Era opposed him. Tom decided to beard the lion in his den. During a speech in the Albany Court House Tom called on the editor to stand up.

"Take your dirty little sheet and fight me," Tom challenged. ‘It won't amount to a damn, because I can stand on the court house steps and spit all over its circulation."

Howard Hardaway, b. 1898, referred to himself as 'The Old Hiker.' “I’ve learned,” said the Louisville, KY native in a May 1959 interview with Alabama newspaper ‘The Florence Times,’ “that the most interesting places are not right on the road. On the back roads, at the little country stores where the road crews gather for a quart of milk and a moon pie, that’s where you find some real historians.”

His writing career started from his habit of going up to Canada each summer for a one-day hike. The Louisville Courier called him in and wanted him to write up some of his experiences. He averaged several pieces a year for the journal and some for other publications at the time of this interview.

Those same court house steps on which Tom offered to stand and spit were treated with indignity once by Uncle Marion Gibbons of the Duvall valley neighborhood. Uncle Marion, in a holiday mood, rode his horse up the steps and into the hall of the court house. This was a bit too informal. The presiding judge called Uncle Marion before him and assessed a $10 fine. The prisoner before the bar fished out his roll, peeled off a twenty, and handed it over to the judge.

"I'm afraid I haven't change," admitted the judge.

"Oh, that's all right," Uncle Marion waved it off. "Just keep the change. I enjoyed it all so much that I think I'll go out and do it again."

Albany has good fresh spring water. Down at one edge of town a large lake is formed by a sheet of water that gushes from below a broad shelf or rock. From the lower end of the lake the water flows by a flume to a flour mill. The water has also been used to generate electricity for town use.

East of Boiling Springs, where Clinton County thrust a long narrow wedge between Wayne County and Tennessee, "happy oak" used to stand on the State line. In days gone by, when one State was wet and the other dry, purveyors of mountain dew would meet their customers on the line at the oak tree. Should an officer of the law of one State be present, the lawbreaker would merely keep on the opposite side of the oak tree-out of the officer's jurisdiction.

Passing northward through a mountain gap at Doc Powers' place. I started down the valley of Koger's Creek by a narrow trail that is passable only by horseback or afoot.

"There have been wagons up there," I was told later, "but not for a longtime."

And, yet people live up there, and apparently live very well. The farms up in the gap look well-tended and prosperous.

In this neighborhood is a cave, a "bottomless pit," known as Georgie's Hole. No one knows the depth of the vertical shaft.
Georgie was the name of an old woman who lived hereabouts many years ago. Georgie and her husband "got their backs up" at each other. They couldn't seem to patch things up.

One day, out in the pasture, Georgie is said to have maneuvered around so that she got her old man with his back to the hold. A quick shove - and Georgie was a willing widow.

Georgie's Hole and its story has served as a warning to Clinton County husbands for 100 years to patch up differences quickly with the wife - or else stay away from bottomless pits.

Rolan, at the junction of Koger and McIver Creeks, was the scene of an exciting episode in the lives of two preachers of a century ago. These two preachers, having heard of certain cults or of individual prophets laying claim to ability to foretell events, including the exact date of the earth's dissolution, became conscious of such a knowledge within themselves.
They traveled afoot, warning and exhorting. On the very eve of the fateful day they covered a wide territory and held numerous meetings. The last night caught them far from home, weary and footsore. Where Rolan now stands they found a haystack and climbed into it.

During the night, from some unexplained cause, the haystack caught fire. The glare and heat aroused one of the sleeping prophets. "Wake up, John!" he yelled. "The Judgment Day is come - and look where we are!"

Once back on the ridge trail, I passed a score of log or box houses along the boundary between Clinton and Wayne Counties and came to the narrow bridge of land where four trails cross. From here Duvall Creek flows off to the south while Gap Creek leads northward to Alpha on the Monticello-Albany Road.

Thanks to a short ride with the young schoolmaster at Savage, I got back to Albany just as supper was being placed on the table. An unexpected feature at the home where I found lodging was a big batch of ice cream made by the hand of the landlady's son. I required one fish of it for every ten miles of walking; that is three.

My sixteen-hour day had me ready for the feathers before 9 o'clock.


sources: http://kykinfolk.com/clinton/everycreek.html
'The Florence [AL] Times,' May 3, 1959, Pg. 1, "Hiker Proves He's Half the Man Grandpa Was," by Lorene Frederick

On Oct. 14, 1980, Stella Fuller Day was proclaimed by the mayor of Huntington, WV to acknowledge her lifelong efforts in helping the poor and disadvantaged of that community. And in 2008 she was posthumously inducted into the Greater Huntington Wall of Fame for her 60 years of service. But she wasn’t always so well honored.

Fuller joined the local chapter of the Salvation Army in 1916, and for the next quarter century her humanitarian instincts blossomed. Fuller attained the title of "Envoy Fuller" in the Army and headed a new branch that opened at Johnson's Lane in Huntington, where she built a recreational program with the assistance of the WPA, consisting of softball and basketball teams. In 1941 the Army was considering building a new outpost ‘to be dedicated to Envoy Stell A. [sic] Fuller who will complete twenty-five years of service on October 1.’

And that’s when it all came to a head.

"In the time that Stella Fuller had served [in the Army], about ten commanders had come and gone, each having to adjust to the community and to the local personnel while establishing his own authority,” writes Nancy Whear in ‘Missing Chapters: West Virginia Women in History.’ “Officially there could never be any question as to who had the authority; but the person who’d been on the spot for 25 years, earning an exceptional amount of independence and building wide community appreciation, had an authority of a different sort. It was a classic setup for confrontation; the only surprise is that it had not come sooner.

Stella Lawrence Fuller (1883-1981). Photo courtesy The Herald-Dispatch [Huntington WV]. No date.

“The overt cause of the rift was the softball program which had been breaking the Army’s strict Sabbath rule with Sunday games. The league teams, which had had good years but had never won a state or tri-state tournament, surprised local fans with a stunning victory in a tournament in Charleston, won another round at Elkins, and were selected to represent West Virginia in a regional meet.

"The sports page was full of the feats of “Envoy Stella Fuller’s Salvation Army Outpost team.” The phrase “managed by Envoy Fuller” and the picture of the team with Fuller prominent on the back row were probably not very soothing to the already unhappy corps. There were outside complaints to [official post commander] Major Morris about the Sunday games. They were ordered stopped, but they continued.

"With society’s attention on the War rather than on social problems, the resources of the Salvation Army were strained. To Mrs. Fuller the success of the teams demonstrated the healthiness of the youth programs and justified the cost. But to the Army it was an extravagance for a program which not only flouted the rules, but mostly benefitted persons not involved in their religious mission.

Crowd in Huntington, WV watching a baseball game. No date.

"The roots of the strain went much deeper than softball. To the organization her activities represented improper independence and outright insubordination. She had overstepped her position. In reality she had outgrown it; her capabilities, experience, and personality equipped her for high-level management, but there was no possibility within the Salvation Army’s structure for her to be the manager.

"Lines of loyalty were drawn and sides had to be taken. The dispute reached the papers in January 1943. There had been a visit for consultation by the division commander who was, by coincidence, the brother of the earlier commander under whom Envoy Fuller had so freely developed her outpost.

"In the meantime Fuller had privately consulted the Volunteers of America about starting a chapter in Huntington. The Army’s Board of Advisors was put in an awkward position an a few resigned to side with Mrs. Fuller.

"The formal break came through another classic impasse: she was offered a contract which she felt she could not sign. Though it did give her charge of the outpost, it had other unacceptable restrictions. The evening newspaper headed its story “Envoy Fuller Ousted from S.A., She Says.” But the morning paper followed with “Stella Fuller Resigns Post.”

"She claimed she was pressured to sign before she could meet with the advisors. Major Morris’ rebuttal insisted that when she did not sign by the specified date, her resignation was “of an ‘automatic nature’ and not due to any action, official or otherwise, on his part.”

"It was not quite over, for public and private accusation, rumor and complaint on both sides continued for months, carried on in Letters to the Editor, poison pen letters, and doubtless in many heated verbal encounters.

"In late February 1943 a long ‘Huntington Advertiser’ story on the upcoming opening of the Volunteers of America listed its advisory board and outlined its program, with ‘Captain’ Stella Fuller in command. The announcement was premature, since the city’s Public Solicitations Committee ultimately turned down the VOA application.

"In fact, the program was already in place informally in a building rented by Mrs. Fuller. She had opened on January 10, in a spot very near the [S.A.] outpost, with very little except her own resources and the good will and volunteer help of the neighborhood. Many times in years to come she would express her gratitude at the city’s rejection of the Volunteers of America.

"For now there was only one way to go: an independent settlement with no confusion as to who would pilot its course. The incorporators (later the board of directors) included prominent persons from a wide range of occupations: lawyer, doctor, industrialists, school principal, labor leader. The years of association with the whole spectrum of the population now made this support available. The board had no trouble selecting the name: the Stella Fuller Settlement was born!”

Under Fuller’s leadership, the settlement went on to expand into the area's largest haven for the deprived and homeless. The woman who’d been snubbed for the Salvation Army post’s top position spent the last 37 years of her life, more time than all the years she’d spent with the Army, continuing to minister to the needs of Huntington’s poorest, but this time doing so her own way.


Sources: “Stella Fuller gave her time to help the needy,” The Herald-Dispatch [Huntington], September 30, 2008
“2008 Wall of Fame inductees announced,” The Herald-Dispatch [Huntington], August 14, 2008
‘Missing Chapters: West Virginia Women in History,’ West Virginia Women’s Commission, Fuller profile by Nancy Whear, 1983

“When I was seven or eight years of age, I began hauling all the wood used in the house and shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course, at that time, but I could drive, and the choppers would load, and some one at the house unload.

“When about eleven years old, I was strong enough to hold a plough. From that age until seventeen I did all the work done with horse, such as breaking up the land, furrowing, ploughing corn and potatoes, bring in the crops when harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two or three horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc., while still attending school.

“For this I was compensated by the fact that there was never any scolding or punishing by my parents; no objection to rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going to the creek a mile away to swim in summer, taking a horse and visiting my grandparents in the adjoining county, fifteen miles off, skating on the ice in the winter, or taking a horse and sleigh when there was snow on the ground.

The birthplace of Ulysses S. Grant, Point Pleasant, Ohio. Lithograph.

“While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five miles away, several times, alone; also Maysville, KY, often, and once Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big one for a boy of that day.

“I had also gone once with a two-horse carriage to Chilicothe, about seventy miles, with a neighbor’s family, who were removing to Toledo, OH, and returned alone; and had gone once, in like manner, to Flat Rock, KY, about seventy miles away. On this latter occasion I was fifteen years of age.

“While at Flat Rock, at the house of a Mr. Payne, whom I was visiting with his brother, a neighbor of ours in Georgetown, I saw a very fine saddle horse, which I rather coveted, and proposed to Mr. Payne, the owner, to trade him for one of the two I was driving.

“Payne hesitated to trade with a boy, but asking his brother about it, the latter told him that it would be all right, that I was allowed to do as I pleased with the horses. I was seventy miles from home, with a carriage to take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know that his horse had ever had a collar on.

“I asked to have him hitched to a farm wagon and we would soon see whether he would work. It was soon evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but he showed no viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I could manage him. A trade was at once struck, I receiving ten dollars difference.

“The next day Mr. Payne, of Georgetown, and I started on our return. We got along very well for a few miles, when we encountered a ferocious dog that frightened the horses and made them run. The new animal kicked at every jump he made. I got the horses stopped, however, before any damage was done, and without running into anything.

“After giving them a little rest, to quiet their fears, we started again. That instant the new horse kicked, and started to run once more. The road we were on, struck the turnpike within half a mile of the point where the second runaway commenced, and there there was an embankment twenty or more feet deep on the opposite side of the pike. I got the horses stopped on the very brink of the precipice.

“My new horse was terribly frightened and trembled like an aspen; but he was not half so badly frightened as my companion, Mr. Payne, who deserted me after this last experience, and took passage on a freight wagon for Maysville.

“Every time I attempted to start, my new horse would commence to kick. I was in quite a dilemma for a time. Once in Maysville I could borrow a horse from an uncle who lived there; but I was more than a day’s travel from that point.

“Finally I took out my bandanna---the style of handkerchief in universal use then---and with this blindfolded my horse. In this way I reached Maysville safely the next day, no doubt much to the surprise of my friend. Here I borrowed a horse from my uncle, and the following day we proceeded on our journey.”


Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant, Part One, by Ulysses S. Grant, Charles L. Webster & Company, 1885–86

Ulysses S. Grant, the 18th U.S. President and Union general-in-chief during the Civil War, grew up in Georgetown, OH, the son of an Ohio tanner. After retiring from the Presidency, Grant became a partner in a financial firm, which went bankrupt. About that time he learned that he had throat cancer. He started writing his recollections to pay off his debts and provide for his family, racing against death to produce a memoir that ultimately earned his family nearly $450,000. Soon after completing the last page, in 1885, he died.

"You want to know when l really entered public life.

“I did not enter; I was shot into it, as by a catapult, and I learned politics in front of Gatling guns and Mauser rifles. The foe left nothing undone that human ingenuity could devise or tricky politicians could muster up. As soon as I could get an inkling of their respective political histories, I made it lively for the gentlemen, and it was an unequal but vivacious struggle, with one woman versus some dozens of north Georgia politicians.

“When convict lease politicians attacked Dr. Felton, I searched the records and made the lease and the lessees step around lively. A legislative report, made in 1879 and printed in the proceedings of that year's General Assembly, gave forth the astounding fact that twenty-five little children, under three years of age, were then in camp, along with their convict mothers, little helpless innocents, born in the chain gang, in the lowest depths of degraded humanity.

Rebecca Latimer Felton, age 75. From frontispiece of "Country Life."

“These children, according to the report mentioned, were born from convict mothers, were also the offspring of the guards, (employed by the Lessees to punish all offenders,) who had basely used their authority to compel these women to submit to their carnal desires. This state of things was so plainly horrible that I wrote it up in the newspapers at the time this legislative report was published.

“When the state road lessees entered our politics, I posted myself and flung hand grenades until the whole thing got in a blaze.

“The corruption of the judiciary in Georgia has been more than once exposed in legislative investigations, but it is well understood that the "dominant faction" elected the judges at the time when a negro could be sent to the chain-gang for ten years for stealing three eggs or for stealing a bowl of milk, and a negro girl fifteen years old in Atlanta was sent to the penitentiary for five years for snatching fifty cents from the hand of a smaller negro. The dominant faction made a half million annually out of a convict lease, and the judge who could send able-bodied negroes to the pen was well worth electing!

“Whenever the dominant faction showed heads above the ramparts, this sharp shooter in woman's form deliberately picked them off for public amusement and feminine revenge.

“Did they attack me?

“Yes! Times without number, but I have always been careful to know I was correct in my statements, and then I had nothing to fear. About a dozen years ago I joined the Woman's Christian Temperance Union. I introduced a resolution pledging the union to a reformatory for youthful criminals and a separate prison for women convicts in April, 1886.

“The organization authorized me to memorialize the legislature on these two reforms that summer. When my petition was read before the legislature the ball opened. Dr. Felton, as a member, championed the reforms, and the whole pack, 'Tray, Blanche and Sweetheart,' opened on us both. I heard myself denominated as the political 'She' of Georgia.

“I was sneered at as a reformer and vials of wrath were poured out on my spouse, who was helping me in my work as I had so long helped him in his political work.

Chain gang from Fulton County, GA working in Atlanta in 1895.

“I sat in the same hall five days later and listened to Dr. Felton's reply that will never be surpassed for strength and powerful invective so long as the English language exists. I forgot myself in admiration of my defender and his marvelous defense. I saw that audience also forget itself and rise as one man to cheer and shout in praise of the speaker. Such a day as that marks a milestone as big as the Washington monument.

“The reformatory for juvenile convicts had a small beginning and only a woman to start it, but such as it was, I had the responsibility and the honor of agitating and launching the craft into sailing waters. More than six years later I was gratified to find that the convict women were quietly separated into other camps and I felt certain that had Senator Joseph E. Brown lived a few years longer he would have made a reformatory system for the juvenile criminals under his control.”


from “Country Life in Georgia 
in the Days of My Youth,” by Rebecca Latimer Felton, 1919, Index Printing Company, 
Atlanta
Online at http://docsouth.unc.edu/fpn/felton/felton.html


Until late in her life, Rebecca Latimer Felton saw her career as tied completely to her husband's. William Felton served three terms (1875-81) in the U.S. Congress. From 1884 to 1890 he served another three terms in Georgia’s state legislature. “Country Life in Georgia in the Days of My Youth” is primarily a record of Rebecca Latimer Felton’s middle years and her husband's political campaigns.

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 the rise of the commercial apple industry in Western Maryland. “Hancock and its surrounding area during the main span of the 20th century was one of the largest fruit producers in the nation,” begins the Maryland Historical Marker along West Main Street in that same town. “In 1886 Edmund Pendleton Cohill began the cultivation of fruit crops. Over the years his planted acreage increased, and Cohill formed the Tonoloway Orchard Company. Other company and family names followed…”

Nowhere does the marker mention Henry E. Van Deman, and that’s a shame, for without him Cohill’s Tonoloway Orchard may not have risen to the dominant market position it ultimately achieved.

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 Carolina native Nina M. Greenlee crossed paths with one Frenchy Larue during her time working in Allied Headquarters with the Women’s Army Corps in Italy. “[In 1949] About a year later after I got out of service, I was leafing through the newspapers one night and I saw this little article about so long about 'Al Capone's Henchman Commits Suicide in Trieste [Italy]'. And I read it, and it was Frenchy. He had been summoned to appear in court for some minor something or other offense, to appear in Italian court, and rather than face the court he committed suicide.”

Next, we’ll peek over the shoulders of newspaperman Louis Pilcher as he describes the comings and goings of one DY Combs, one of Hazard Kentucky’s most influential men in the early 20th century. "Having leased his fields of the best coal to large coal operators,” says Pilcher, “it is believed that everybody's D. Y. is destined to be in the near future one of the richest men in these rich fields, but nobody believes that he will dress in purple and fine linen and fare sumptuously every day, for D. Y. doesn't care a snap for all that sort of thing, being as plain and simple as the proverbial old shoe.”

“Man of Constant Sorrow: My Life and Times by Dr. Ralph Stanley” has recently been published. Guest reviewer Jeanne Powers, who reviews books regularly for the Reference Department on the Bristol Public Library [TN/VA] site, weighs in with her reactions to the book. “I picked this book up thinking that it would be another standard celebrity biography, perhaps with a slab of cornpone on the side,” she says. “I hoped there would be some mentions of this area among the name-dropping, but I wasn't exactly holding my breath. Instead I found a book to which I could relate and one that I'll be recommending to anyone who wants to know about Appalachian life and who enjoys a good, well-told story—even if it's someone who covers his ears when he hears a banjo being played.”

We’ll wrap things up with a short tale told by one Frank Mehaffey of Maggie Valley, NC. He and his brother go coon hunting one winter day in the Smokies. If you choose to believe him, Mehaffey’s dog Track must be one of the smartest coon dogs that ever lived: “He treed the coons in the cliff and stuck the fire under it and set the leaves afire, smoked the coons out, and had them, three big ones a-lyin' there dead.”

And, thanks to the good folks at the Digital Library of Appalachia, we’ll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music from Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys in a 1994 recording of “Shout Little Lulie.”

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.

Back in nineteen and thirteen me and my brother coon hunted lots [in the] Smokies. We had a dog named Track. He was a good one. We went to Flat Creek one evening, built up a camp fire, and stayed till two o'clock the next morning. We left and went in on Stillwell, and old Track, he struck. Right up Stillwell he went, and us right after him. About ten o'clock in the day it begin to snowing.

We followed old Track about a hour, and the snow was about twenty-two inches deep. We turned back to the camp. About two o'clock in the evening old Track come back, and we had a big campfire. Chunks had rolled down, and old Track come in and set down by the fire, and directly he retched down and got a chunk of fire in his mouth, and right out the door he went.

We was right out after him, went back in on Stillwell, and we was a-trackin' him. He'd run off and left us. Right up Stillwell he went and us right after him, and about a mile above where we'd turned back, why, we found old Track at a big cliff. He took this chunk of fire, and he treed the coons in the cliff and stuck the fire under it and set the leaves afire, smoked the coons out, and had them, three big ones a-lyin' there dead. I give them to my brother and told him to come back the nigh way, and I'd go up to Balsam Corner, see if I could locate some bear sign.

Frank Mehaffey
b. 1894
Maggie Valley, Haywood County, NC
CCC blacksmith, farmer, and Baptist preacher
1939 interview

source: www.cas.sc.edu/engl/dictionary/transcripts/mehaffey_frank.html


coon+hunting Great+Smoky+Mountains+National+Park Haywood+County+NC appalachia appalachian+history appalachian+mountains+history

Man of Constant Sorrow: My Life and Times by Dr. Ralph Stanley with Eddie Dean (781.642 STA Main)


Please welcome guest reviewer Jeanne Powers, who reviews books regularly for the Reference Department on the Bristol Public Library [TN/VA] site. Jeanne's from Dickenson County, VA. "I used to watch Mr. Cartoon from Huntington after school," she tells us.



This region has long been known for the wealth of music nurtured on the mountainsides and up in the hollers. Traditional music brought over by European immigrants melded with elements from Native American and African American music to produce a unique sound. "Pop" Stoneman is credited with extolling the virtues of the region's music to Ralph Peer, encouraging him to come here to record.

Peer soon found that Pop hadn't exaggerated: there was a lot of good music in these hills. At about the same time that Peer was making his recordings, a second son was born to Lee and Lucy Smith Stanley at their home in Big Spraddle, Virginia. The baby was named Ralph, and he and his older brother Carter would be steeped in mountain music from birth.

Such is the start of the long awaited autobiography of Ralph Stanley, traditional music icon and legend. The story is told as if you're just sitting on the front porch, passing the time as Dr. Ralph reminisces: he tells us that he knows proper English, but he chooses to tell his story in the phrases and terms of home.

I was reminded of times when, as a child, I'd hear the adults laugh about long-ago shenanigans involving outhouses or stray cows, sing bits of old ballads or hymns, pass along local lore and gossip, and speak of ghosts and faith healings and the proper way to milk a cow.

Dr. Ralph would be right at home with that group, though he realizes that he's speaking to a wider audience, ones who may not know, for example, the difference between Primitive Baptists and Old Regular Baptists. He explains mountain customs, history and traditions, while being neither ashamed nor condescending. He does an excellent job of describing a way of life without electricity, television and indoor plumbing.

Naturally, much of the book is devoted to the music, starting with the brothers' early experiences in singing gospel in churches and at community gatherings such as pie suppers. Then came the gig on "Farm and Fun Time" on WCYB, where the Stanley Brothers first made an impression on the region.

Many of their songs became country and bluegrass standards. Carter's easy way of working a crowd, along with his fine singing voice and gift for songwriting, made him the natural leader of the group, while Ralph was shy and generally deferred to his older brother. Many believed that the "Stanley sound" would end when Carter died. It was up to Ralph to not only prove the naysayers wrong, but to determine a new course for his music, going back to "old time" mountain music rather than pure bluegrass.

Earning a living through music is rarely easy and Dr. Ralph doesn't glamorize life on the road, with seedy bars, jealous musicians, and fleabag hotels. While there are humorous incidents, there are as many that are somber: Lee Stanley's deserting the family when the boys were young, Carter's early death, and the murder of a band member.

Although Dr. Ralph—and yes, the book does explain how he received that title—has been known as a man of few words, he does a fine job of telling his own story without skimping or whitewashing. Several reviewers have expressed surprise at how candid he is; he does have a few bones to pick (he didn't care for the way he was portrayed in a play, for instance) and he isn't shy about how he views his place in traditional music, but the overall tone isn't self-serving.

He does a bit of name-dropping (A. P. Carter, Bill Monroe, Flatt and Scruggs, Keith Whitley, Ricky Skaggs, etc. )but not nearly as much as he could have. He is generous in his praise of some musicians who really haven't gotten their due, giving names to folk rarely credited in mainstream music history. In a few places he seems downright circumspect. He is honest about the toll the years have taken on his voice, but feels that the true emotion gathered from life experience compensates.

This is more than just a story of one man: it's the story of a region and a time long past. Co-author Dean, a veteran writer for publications such as Spin magazine, has done a wonderful job of telling the story while keeping to the background. The book sounds as if it came straight from Dr. Ralph's lips, without prompting or rewrites.

Several reviewers wished for more photos. I second that, and will add that an index would have been a plus, even if it did take away from the homespun feel.

I picked this book up thinking that it would be another standard celebrity biography, perhaps with a slab of cornpone on the side. I hoped there would be some mentions of this area among the name-dropping, but I wasn't exactly holding my breath. Instead I found a book to which I could relate and one that I'll be recommending to anyone who wants to know about Appalachian life and who enjoys a good, well-told story—even if it's someone who covers his ears when he hears a banjo being played.

I wouldn't be surprised if 'Man of Constant Sorrow' becomes a standard text in courses on Appalachian history and culture, but I hope it'll continue to be read just for the sheer pleasure of hearing such an original and authentic voice.

“Hancock and its surrounding area during the main span of the 20th century was one of the largest fruit producers in the nation,” begins the Maryland Historical Marker along West Main Street in that same town. “In 1886 Edmund Pendleton Cohill (1855-1943) began the cultivation of fruit crops. Over the years his planted acreage increased, and Cohill formed the Tonoloway Orchard Company. Other company and family names followed…”

Nowhere does the marker mention Henry E. Van Deman, and that’s a shame, for without him Cohill’s Tonoloway Orchard may not have risen to the dominant market position it ultimately achieved.

Henry E. Van Deman was born in Concord, OH in 1846 with very nearly an apple in each hand; both his father and grandfather were orchardists. Like many farm boys of his era, he never attended college, spending his young manhood instead fighting with the 1st Ohio in Civil War between 1863-65.

After the war he studied for a time with one Dr. J.A. Warder of Ohio, an ‘old-time pomologist.’ He moved to Benzonia, MI, where he helped his brother John develop orchards for several years, then on to Allen County, KS in 1871, where he took up a homestead claim.

In 1876 Van Deman became a member of the Kansas State Horticultural Society, which in turn brought him to the attention of the Kansas Agricultural College. He was invited to teach there in short order, and rose to become chairman of the college from 1878-80. He was during this same period gaining national recognition for his regular contributions to “Gardener’s Monthly.”

During the last quarter of the nineteenth century, U.S. farmers were expanding fruit orchard programs in response to growing markets. At the same time, horticulturists from the USDA and agricultural colleges were bringing new varieties to the United States from foreign expeditions, and developing experimental tracts for these fruits. In response to this increased interest and activity, the USDA established the Division of Pomology in 1886.

The USDA recruited Henry E. Van Deman, and brought him from Kansas to Washington, DC as the division’s chief pomologist.

Van Deman’s “Report of the Pomologist” in the ‘Report of the Commissioner of Agriculture for the year 1886’ directly addressed a crucial aspect of the department's diversification program -- namely, the production of fruits for export. Apples and citrus fruits were seen as particularly significant.

The introduction of new apple varieties required exact representations of the fruit so that plant breeders could accurately document and disseminate their research results. Since the use of scientific photography was not widespread in the late 19th Century, USDA commissioned artists to create watercolor illustrations of newly introduced cultivars.

Many of the watercolors were used for lithographic reproductions in USDA publications, such as the Report of the Pomologist and the Yearbook of Agriculture. From USDA Pomological Watercolor Collection; Malus domestica "Bloomfield"; Specimen No.: 10252; Grower's State: Maryland ; USDA Artist: Deborah Griscom Passmore; Watercolor Date: 9/28/1895

Edmund Pendleton Cohill was born in Elmira, NY when Henry E. Van Deman was nine years old. In 1861 young Edmund’s mother Mary died, and he was sent to live with his maternal grandmother, Elizabeth Y. Mapes, in Great Bend, PA. He attended public schools until he was seventeen years old, when he went to Harrisburg to become a clerk in the office of T. T. Wierman, chief engineer of the Pennsylvania Canal Company.

Here he remained two years, making his home with Mr. Wierman.
While in the city he attended night school, and took a course in short hand, telegraphy and bookkeeping. In 1874, upon graduation from Harrisburg Commercial College, he accepted the position of private secretary to George M. Ball, general manager of the Empire Transportation Company, in Williamsport, Pa.

In 1875 Empire sent Cohill to Baltimore as cashier, a position he held for one year. During his time in Baltimore he met Mary Ellen Rinehart of Hancock, MD. The two married, in Hancock, on October 23, 1876, and Cohill resettled there for the remainder of his life.

Edmund Pendleton Cohill.

Cohill partnered with his father-in-law Samuel Rinehart in the mercantile business and manufacture of sumac. Rinehart retired in 1880, leaving Cohill sole owner of the business. In I886, he began commercially cultivating apples.

Van Deman, in the meantime, resigned from the USDA in 1893, to enter the private market. He continued to publish horticultural editorial work, and got involved as an investor and in an advisory capacity with large fruit and nut plantations in Louisiana, Kansas, and Tennessee.

He also served as a judge of exhibitions of nuts and fruit in practically every state in the Union and at all the national expositions.

By 1901 E.P. Cohill was starting to be noticed nationally as a rising star in pomology circles. Guy L. Stewart, Asst. Industrial Agent, B&O R.R., wrote an article in the Maryland Horticultural Society Report of that year titled “Apples in Western Maryland: Their Present Status and Future Prospects,” in which he applauds Cohill’s leadership in orchardry: “The people of this section have only begun to see that their money lays in apples. Mr. EP Cohill, a merchant and himself an owner of a young orchard, has talked and talked to the people to get them interested in apple culture.

"He has illustrated and set the example by planting one hundred trees each year for the past five years, but is now convinced that this is too slow and will plant more extensively. He shipped from Hancock this season nine carloads, 2600 barrels. As example of what can be done Mr. Cohill says that eight fifteen year old trees yielded $1.90 per barrel or $575 per acre of forty trees.”

Stewart concludes that there’s a prime orchardry business opportunity to be had for those who would see it: “A soil so fine and mellow, with a growth of blue grass so heavy as to be difficult to work through, with south eastern exposure, natural air and water drainage, facilities for market, being half way between Pittsburg and New York, and with intermediate points, good wagon roads for hauling and with a standard market variety thoroughly tested, there is no reason why this Tonoloway Ridge should not be known as an apple section.”

Section of Tonoloway Orchard, Hancock, MD.

Van Deman, who still lived in Washington DC, probably had plenty of contacts in the Maryland Horticultural Society from his years at USDA, and even if he didn’t read this article, he most certainly had heard about the Tonoloway Ridge and its orchardry potential. Indeed, less than a year after the Maryland Horticultural Society article by Stewart appeared, a July 29, 1902 NY Times article reported:

“The Tonoloway Orchard Company was incorporated today by a number of Government pomologists, and work will begin immediately planting an orchard of 800 acres in Winter apples along Tonoloway Ridge, near Hancock, MD. H.E. Vandemen, who established the department of pomology of the United States Agricultural Department, is President of the company.” No mention in that article, interestingly, of E.P. Cohill, who ran Tonoloway on a day-to-day basis from the start.

Cohill’s fruit operation was instantly catapulted to the first rank, able now to tap into Van Deman’s nationwide network of finance, knowledge and contacts.

Other company and family names followed Tonoloway Orchard, among them: Millstone Orchard Company, Locher Orchards, Daniels, Funk, R.S. Dillon, Corona Orchard Company, Round Top Orchard Company, Green Lane, Roy Daniels, John Mason and L. Resley, as well as Hepburn Orchards. Over time, many of them were incorporated into larger companies such as Fairview Orchards.

Hancock went on to become one of the United States’ most productive areas in the apple industry. By 1925 over 5,000 acres of land were devoted to commercial fruit production. At the industrial peak in the mid 1940-60's, Maryland produced over two million bushels of apples, 25% of which were produced in Washington County.


sources: www.gutenberg.org/files/25583/25583.txt
www.hagerstownmagazine.com/articleDetail.aspx?id=1268
www.hmdb.org/marker.asp?marker=5933
www.cohill.com/history/cohill_history_page1.htm
www.mendelweb.org/archive/MWpaul.txt
“The history of Washington County, Maryland: Volume 2” By Thomas John Chew Williams, self-published, 1968

E-d-i-g-i-o R-o-m-a-n-o. He was known as Frenchy LaRue. He was not known by his Italian name, he was known by his name of Frenchy LaRue. One afternoon the finance officer came down to my office, and this little man, he was about my size, very neatly dressed, his clothes were beginning to show wear—

But before I went overseas I had a friend in—From Camp Davis I went to Fort Bragg [North Carolina], and I had a friend in Fort Bragg that I often babysat for him. He had a little boy and I'd go down and babysit for him so he and his wife could have a night out together. And when I found out I was—He had been in Italy, in Caserta, and when I found out that I was going to Caserta I went right straight to see him.

Nina M. Greenlee in uniform, 1943-1945.

And he told me that one time while he was over there they were having trouble with their telephone lines, and he decided one afternoon he was going to—Somebody was cutting the telephone lines. He decided one afternoon he was going to try to find out who it was. So he got a jeep and he went out into the country, and he came to a crossroads, open space, no trees around anywhere. And he was sitting there in his jeep trying to decide whether to go to the right, whether to go to the left, and while he had his head turned, somebody approached from behind and said, “Can I help you ?” in perfect English.

And it was Frenchy LaRue. He had been deported, but he served as a spy for the Allied forces. And Colonel Williams told him what he was after and he said, “Well, you go down here to so-and-so, so far down the road, and you will find out.” Frenchy was correct.

Well, anyway, getting back to the finance officer. He brought this man down to my office and he said, “Sergeant, this man is not a prisoner of war, was not a prisoner of war, but I want you to see if you can help him collect the money that's coming to him." The U.S. paid volunteers for their service. While he was spying for the U.S. and British armies, Frenchy received money for food and clothing. What he came to collect was extra. And the man handed me this huge folder and asked me to look at it, and he went over and sat down and was talking to the GIs in the office, and every once in a while I'd catch a word that he was saying.

And there were letters of recommendation from General [Harold R.L.G.] Alexander, who was—I think his name was Alexander—he was the English officer there—General Mark Clark, various officers that he served under, and every one of them praised him highly for the work that he had done for the Allies. And right at the end there were pictures of him in civilian clothes and officer's uniform, noncom's [noncommissioned officer] uniform and what have you, hobnobbing with the big brass. And a letter from Mark Clark to the immigration department recommending that Frenchy LaRue be allowed to return to the United States. And when I looked at that I said, “What were you deported for?” And he said, “Oh, I was one of Al Capone's gang.” [chuckling]

Palazzo di Caserta, north of Naples, where Greenlee worked. Its 1,200 rooms served as the Allied Forces Headquarters from 1944 to the end of WWII.

And about a year later after I got out of service, I was leafing through the newspapers one night and I saw this little article about so long about 'Al Capone's Henchman Commits Suicide in Trieste [Italy]'. And I read it, and it was Frenchy. He had been summoned to appear in court for some minor something or other offense, to appear in Italian court, and rather than face the court he committed suicide.

But after I called around and found out where he should go, I took him down there because telling him how to get there was just almost impossible: “You go through so many doors and you turn right so many doors and you turn right again”—you know, that sort of thing. So I took him down to the—I've forgotten now what office it was that I took him to, and he thanked me very profusely. And in about a half-hour or so he came back and thanked me again and said that he would get his money the next morning. So the next morning after he got the money, he came back and thanked me a third time. His manners were impeccable. He was cultured, his English was perfect. He was just an admirable person, to tell you the truth.

I asked him what he was going to do. I meant to tell you, the government was paying people who had volunteered their services. The government was giving them a small stipend of some kind. I never asked him how much he got, but he said he was saving it till the time he got back to the States. But he didn't make it.


Excerpt from Oral History Interview with Nina M. Greenlee (1907-2004)

Greenlee was born and grew up in Old Fort, NC. She served in the United States and Italy with the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) from 1943-48. Hermann Trojanowski interviewed her in February 1999 for the Women Veterans Historical Collection at Jackson Library, The University of North Carolina at Greensboro.

Full interview online at: http://library.uncg.edu/dp/wv/results5.aspx?i=1199&s=5

Al ("Frenchy") LaRue (real name: Egidio Romagnoli), ex-triggerman for the Capone mob, was deported from the U.S. to Italy in 1938, and later tagged along with invading G.I.s as a scout (for which he got the Bronze Star). He shot himself at the age of 60 during a police checkup in Trieste, on February 14, 1949.

"As one alights from the train at Hazard and gallant Captain Bocook the conductor waves an ‘adieu’ with a smile thrown in for usury, the first word heard above the bustle and din is ‘D-Y,’ ‘D-Y,’ ‘D-Y,’ and that stands for the most popular, best known, most influential, wealthiest and most progressive man in Hazard or Perry County or perhaps Eastern Kentucky; it stands for David Yancey Combs, prince of landlords, liverymen, big general merchant, real estate dealer, land owner, coal mine operator and then some.

"All day long and sometimes all night long ‘D-Y,’ ‘D-Y,’ ‘D-Y,’ is iterated and reiterated, for everybody including the children know and like D. Y. Combs, whose popularity would put him into Congress if he'd say the word.

"So busy is he, and so engaged in conversation with here and there little coteries, that I found it difficult to get a line on him for a little sketch and it was only after I found his aid de camp, Hon. Andrew Jackson Conyers, that I found some data for this brief biography of a man so prominent and so careless of the fame I have to thrust upon him.

"David Yancey Combs was born - of course - had to be born somewhere - fifty years ago at the mouth of Carr's Fork of the famous Combs lineage - was born a Democrat, and despite the fact that Perry County is overwhelmingly Republican, D. Y. was twice elected Sheriff; and by saving grace of his Rabelaisian humor preserved the best of order, but he cared nothing for official life and today all of his great love is centered in a little midget - Little Mary his granddaughter, aged about three, while Mrs. Combs, or "Ma" as even the boarders call her fondly, divides her affection between Little Mary and Beryl, aged about five years, the boy; and “in him is the abridgment of all that is pleasant in man,” to quote from Thos. Hood.

"D. Y. is a money maker--possesses the Midas touch--and there is not a corpuscle of the miserly in his two hundred pounds of superb mountain manhood, but upon the contrary he is the soul of generosity and hides his charity while dispensing it in many ways, not letting his left "fist" know what his fine right hand doeth.

Hazard, KY Main Street in 1913, showing Lexington Boosters arriving. D.Y. Combs Hotel is the building with the white door, to the far left of the photo.

"For many years having been extensively engaged in lumber and timber and logging he became known far and wide, and when D. Y. drops into Lexington or Louisville, he can't transact any business till the glad hand and the jest and the news and little social amenities are rushed through.

"While D. Y. is all we have mentioned he is prouder of his farming operations than all else and he raises stock of all kinds, and b'gosh he loves a hoss.

"Having leased his fields of the best coal to large coal operators, it is believed that everybody's D. Y. is destined to be in the near future one of the richest men in these rich fields, but nobody believes that he will dress in purple and fine linen and fare sumptuously every day, for D. Y. doesn't care a snap for all that sort of thing, being as plain and simple as the proverbial old shoe.

"Six feet, commanding, active, filled with health, and everyone at once becomes en rapport with him. Dark and tanned and swarthy, with shining jowls and merry dark eyes sparkling, a voice winning in strength and music, dark hair close cropped, clean shaven, with here a jest, there a bow to some of the reclusive set, then a magnetic touch of his index finger under the dimpled chin of a blushing or laughing sweet sixteen, this man of magnetism makes his rounds scattering joy and fun and sunshine.

"In moments of repose there is an interesting touch or suggestion of melancholy; a momentary reminiscence or a faint adumbration that D. Y. might carry his burden too, but he does it debonairly and masterfully.

"Once in a conversation when he was off his guard and didn't know that I was a newspaper man, he said that a new enterprise which I had mentioned, he was not asked to take stock and to my surprise he said rather low: "I've got a little bunch of enemies." I was astonished and now that I know him still better it causes me not only surprise but wonder. What boots it a little bunch of enemies when compared to the friendship of children?"


---from "The story of Hazard, Ky. - The pearl of the mountains,' by Louis Pilcher, Citizens Print. Co., 1913
online at www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~kyperry3/Pearl_ofthe_Mountains.html


Louis Pilcher had a long and varied career as a newspaperman behind him by the time he wrote ‘Pearl of the Mountains.’ Here’s a short bio on his earlier years from ‘A history of Jessamine County, Kentucky: from its earliest settlement to 1898,’ by Bennett Henderson Young:

‘The Nicholasville Democrat,’ an eight column folio, was established in June 1888. At that time it was the property of Louis Pilcher, the present editor and proprietor, and his brother Thomas Fielding Pilcher. After a short time a job printing plant was established. For eight years its office was in the old historic building, erected by Judge Wake Thomas F Pilcher and his brother. Louis Pilcher assumed the management of the paper.

The former assisted in establishing the ‘Lexington Argonaut.’ He did his first newspaper work on the ‘Lyceum Debater,’ afterward on the ‘Central Courier,’ and was for five years the correspondent of the Cincinnati and Louisville dailies.

He was one of the promoters of the ‘Lexington Advertiser.’ Later he edited the ‘Nicholasville Star.’ In 1895 he established ‘The Coming Nation,’ which absorbed the ‘Illustrated Kentuckian,’ and these two were merged into the ‘Argonaut.’

He afterward founded the ‘Blue Grass World’ and then returned to his present position as editor and proprietor of the ‘Nicholasville Democrat.’

Mr. Pilcher has had a wide experience as a newspaper man. In the Cleveland campaign he did work on the ‘Louisville Courier Journal,’ paragraphing and producing comic articles with Donald Padman. He was horn in Nicholasville on July 11, 1855 opposite where the newspaper office now stands.

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 nod to Valentine’s Day. We KNOW lovers everywhere are preoccupied that day, but what about everyone else? Here’s a day in the life as reported in the February 14, 1930 edition of the Clinch Valley News in Raven, VA.

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.

Of all the 19th century Welsh settlements in America, the most famous is that of Brynyfynnon in eastern Tennessee, established in 1855 by Welsh preacher Samuel Roberts of Llanbrynmair. The settlement got off to a rocky start with court disputes over title to the lands. And the arrival of the Civil War several years later sealed the unhappy fate of the venture. Samuel Roberts was an ardent abolitionist. Northerners were baffled as to why he and his followers remained in Tennessee; many locals viewed his colony as a sort of 5th Column working for Northern interests. The center couldn’t hold, and the colony collapsed.

Next, we’ll hear the odd tale of Montague and Duck Moore of Rocky Mount, VA, accused by neighbors of practicing witchcraft. During the Depression the Federal Writers' Project sought to compile anthologies of oral history, folklore, and music. The Virginia Writers' Project (VWP) was the state-sponsored segment of the Federal Writers' Project. The VWP collected over 3,850 items from 62 counties between mid-1937 and mid-1942.
In 1991 Thomas E. Barden published 150 of the pieces from the VWP Collection in ‘Virginia Folk Legends,” from which this oral history was taken.

Mary Harris Jones (1830-1930), better known as Mother Jones, was an American labor organizer and one of the founders of the Social Democratic party and the Industrial Workers of the World . Her August 1912 speech to striking coal miners in Charleston, WV was one in a series of organized activities which were blamed for violence in the state's coal fields, and led to her conviction of conspiracy to commit murder, which was later commuted. Here’s an excerpt from the last portion of the speech.

We’ll wrap things up with an impassioned letter from an Alabama man to his brother imploring the latter not to join the Confederacy. When the dark clouds of war were gathering in the South in the spring of 1861, not everyone embraced the new cause. While some were eager to fight for a secessionist government, many others considered the impending war a wicked, treasonous undertaking and wanted no part of it.
Indeed, a majority in the hills of Northwest Alabama, mostly poor yeomen dirt farmers, saw little value or reason in taking arms against the federal government.

And, thanks to blogger Norm Morrison of Juneberry78s.com we’ll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music by The Allegheny Highlanders in a 1927 recording of “A Trip to New York.”

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.

William E. Brock's company wasn't the first to mass market the delightful French concoction in the US. That distinction goes to the New York City firm Cella's Confections, which began large scale production in 1929. But Brock Candy Company was well positioned to become a major competitor.

During the 1930s, Brock introduced its own chocolate covered cherries, which quickly became a nationwide favorite. That particular candy not only helped the company survive the lean Depression era but would remain one of its biggest sellers for the next 60 years.

By 1930, William E. Brock had already been in the candy making big leagues for more than two decades. Born in North Carolina, he’d been a traveling salesman for R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Co. when, in 1906, he decided to settle down in Chattanooga, TN. He borrowed money and invested with some associates in a small wholesale grocery shop, which also held a candy shop, the Trigg Candy Company.

1952 photo of the Brock Candy Company in Chattanooga. Here chocolate covered cherries receive the bottom coat of chocolate.

Brock continued the candy making operation, which consisted of handmade penny and bulk candies, peanut brittle, peppermints, and fudge. Using the experience and connections he had made as a traveling salesman, he sold primarily through former clients in small country stores.

Three years later, he bought his partners out and reincorporated the company as Brock Candy Company.

Sugar rationing during World War I hampered the business, but in 1920 the company introduced a five-cent peanut stick that became a big seller. In the early part of that decade it modernized its factory, installing automatic moguls (a starch molding machine).

Next, Brock eliminated all slab confectionery items, such as peanut brittle and fudge, which were products already produced by many manufacturers, making that area extremely competitive. Instead, Brock concentrated on launching new lines of jelly and marshmallow candies, using the new automated moguls. Also during the 1920s, Brock worked with the DuPont Company to develop and test the packaging of candy in cellophane bags. His company was one of the first candy makers to use cellophane bags, and it influenced the entire candy industry.

Brock found innovative ways to deal with the problems presented by the Depression. When the bank moratorium of 1933 made it impossible for Brock workers to cash their paychecks, Brock collected his daily receipts from local retailers of his candies and paid his employees in cash.

In addition to his prosperous candy manufacturing, William E. Brock also had involvements in insurance and banking interests. He became a trustee of the former University of Chattanooga, now the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, Emory and Henry College, and also Martha Washington College.

Undoubtedly because of his high visibility in the public affairs of Chattanooga, Brock was appointed U.S. senator by Tennessee Gov. Henry Horton in September 1929, after the death of Sen. Lawrence D. Tyson in a Philadelphia sanitarium. Sen. Brock Sr. was elected for a short term in 1930 and served until March 1931. He was considered a Woodrow Wilson Democrat.

His son, William, Jr., succeeded him to head the company. By the time of his death in 1950, Brock Sr. had built his family-run company into the South's—and Appalachia's—largest candy maker.


sources: http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/imagegallery.php?EntryID=B088
http://utpress.org/appalachia/EntryDisplay.php?EntryID=017
www.fundinguniverse.com/company-histories/Brach-and-Brock-Confections-Inc-Company-History.html



Brock+Candy+Company William+E.+Brock Chattanooga+TN appalachia appalachia+history history+of+appalachia

Mary Harris Jones (1830-1930), better known as Mother Jones, was an American labor organizer and one of the founders of the Social Democratic party (1898) and the Industrial Workers of the World (1905). Her August 1912 speech to striking coal miners in Charleston, WV was one in a series of organized activities which were blamed for violence in the state's coal fields, and led to her conviction of conspiracy to commit murder, which was later commuted. This excerpt is from the last portion of the speech.

Oh, men [speaking of mine owners], have you any hearts? Oh, men, do you feel? Oh, men, do you see the judgment day on the throne above, when you will be asked, "where did you get your gold?"

You stole it from these wretches. You murdered, you assassinated, you starved, you burned them to death, that you and your wives might have palaces, and that your wives might go to the seashore. Oh God, men, when I see the horrible picture, when I see the children with their hands off, when I took an army of babies and walked a hundred and thirty miles with a petition to the President of the United States, to pass a bill in Congress to keep these children from being murdered for profit. He had a secret service then all the way to the palace. And now they want to [re-elect] that man! What is the American Nation coming to?

Manhood, womanhood, can you stand for it? They put reforms in their platforms, but [we] get no reform. [Roosevelt] promised everything to labor. When we had the strike in Colorado he sent 200 guns to blow our brains out. I don't forget. You do, but I don't. And our women were kicked out like dogs at the point of the bayonet. That is America. They don't do it in Russia. Some women get up with $5 worth of paint on their cheeks and have tooth brushes for their dogs and say, "oh, them horrible miners. Oh, that horrible old Mother Jones, that horrible old woman."

I am horrible! I admit, and I want to be to you blood-sucking pirates!

I want you, my boys, to buckle on your armor. This is a fighting age; this is not the age for cowards; put them out of the way. Take your medicine [Governor], because we are going to get after you, no doubt about it.

I want you to be good. Give the Governor time until to-morrow night, and, if he don't act then it is up to you. We have all-day Saturday, all-day Sunday, all-day Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday if we need it.

Mother Jones brings shoes for children in union camps during West Virginia miners strike.

We are used to living on little; we can take a crust of bread in our hands and go.

Boys, stay quiet until tomorrow night. I think it would be a good thing to work tomorrow, because the mine owners will need it. The mine commissioner will get a pain in his skull to-night and his wife will give him some "dope." The mine owner's wife is away at the seashore. When she finds no more money coming she will say, "Is there any more money coming?" He will say, "Most of the miners are not working." She will say, "Take the guards and shoot them back into the mines, those horrible fellows."

The Governor says, if you don't go to work, said he, in the mines or on the railroads, I am going to call the militia, and I will shoot you...I said we can get ready too.

What militia can you get to fight us? Those boys on Paint Creek wouldn't fight us if all the governors in the country wanted you to. I was going yesterday to take dinner with them, but I had something else to do. I am going some day to take dinner with them, and I will convert the whole bunch to my philosophy. I will get them all my way.

Now, be good, boys.

Pass the hat around, some of these poor devils want a glass of beer. Get the hat. The mine owner robs them. Get a hat you fellows of the band...

Another thing I want you to do: I want you to go in regular parade, three or four together. The moving-picture man wants to get your picture to send over the country.

The hat is for miners who came up here broke, and they want to get a glass of beer. And to pay their way back — and to get a glass of beer. I will give you $5. Get a move on, and get something in it...

The National Government will get a record of this meeting. They will say, my friends, this was a peaceful, law-abiding meeting. They will see men of intelligence, that they are not out to destroy but to build. And instead of the horrible homes you have got we will build on their ruins homes for you and your children to live in, and we will build them on the ruins of the dog kennels which they wouldn't keep their mules in. That will bring forth better ideas than the world has had. The day of oppression will be gone. I will be with you whether true or false. I will be with you at midnight or when the battle rages, when the last bullet ceases, but I will be in my joy, as an old saint said:

O, God, of the mighty clan, God grant that the woman who suffered for you, Suffered not for a coward, but oh, for a man. God grant that the woman who suffered for you, Suffered not for a coward, but oh, for a fighting man.


Source: www.infoplease.com/t/hist/jones-coal-miner

"Religious leaders have always had a very powerful influence in Wales," says Alan Conway in The Welsh in America: Letters from Immigrants. "In the early years of the nineteenth century they had not been in favor of emigration as the means for curing the ills that beset the Welsh, but eventually they came down heavily in favor of this remedy. Men like Benjamin W. Chidlaw and R. D. Thomas wrote and spoke constantly in favor of emigration to the United States, and produced emigrant guidebooks for the Welsh in their native tongue."

Of these Welsh settlements in America, the most famous is that of Brynyfynnon in eastern Tennessee, established in 1855 by Samuel Roberts of Llanbrynmair. Roberts, a Congregationalist minister, was also a tenant farmer, a scholar, and a considerable social force in nineteenth-century Wales.

In conjunction with William Bebb of Illinois, Gwilym Williams, William and John Roberts Jones, and his own brother Richard, all of Llanbrynmair, S. R. (as he was known in Wales) purchased a hundred thousand acres of land in Scott County, which they were prepared to sell to buyers at ½ crown an acre, and at somewhat higher prices for choice lots.

Samuel Roberts.

Richard Roberts took out the first group of settlers in 1856 and was followed by S. R. in 1857 with a second group. Like other immigrants to America, the Welsh had to deal with uprooting from friends and homes in Wales, a hazardous sea voyage to the new world, the difficulty of finding a suitable area in which to settle, the hard labor and frustration of clearing a site, shortage of money, the threat of disease and death, and that peculiar Welsh form of homesickness, hiraeth.

Keep in mind that the men who undertook to organize this emigration had never seen the land. The average Welsh citizen of the times was not aware that the land was hardly accessible due to the underdeveloped mountainous area; nor that improvement of the land was next to impossible because of a lack of flat grazing land and building sites. The pastures were more suited for goats than for cattle.

The prospectus of the Welsh settlement in Tennessee was a sound and workmanlike document. Unfortunately, the purchasers had not reckoned with the Southern system of land sales. Almost immediately they found that their title to much of the land was disputed, and a series of lawsuits rendered the settlement virtually stillborn.

The Welsh settlers began to break up, many believing they had been defrauded. Some of these people moved down the valley and became the founders of the Coal Creek settlement, or joined the Knoxville Welsh community.

William Bebb, although transferring the blame for failure to the settlers themselves, maintained that it was impossible to conserve a Welsh island in an ocean of other peoples and least of all in Tennessee on the brink of a civil war.

Mr. John Roberts Jones, of Allen County, OH, was a partner of Bebb and Roberts. In March, 1858, Mr. Jones wrote this letter:

I am sorry that our venture has caused and is causing so much ill feeling as there is between us as relations. I wish that I had never seen Mr. Bebb and E. B. Jones and that I had never heard of Tennessee. Undoubtedly, we have all been disappointed in our venture. It would be a blessing if it could be sold and if each one had his money back. It was terrible indeed of Mr. Bebb to persuade us to buy land in Tennessee without knowing more about it and with the titles being so uncertain. He should have been the first settler according to his promise.

When I heard Mr. Bebb in Wales sighing and groaning that we were suffering such oppression, living on hopeless and sunless farms, boasting of the great fortune that he had made for us and the paradise that was to be had on this side of the Atlantic, who would not have expected something from him!! I have not seen him proving any of his claims and I judge that he had nothing in view except his own pocket.

By 1861, the War Between the States had started; unfortunately for the Roberts, Tennessee was on the North/South divide and the state itself was split. East Tennessee remained loyal to the North and the Union while the rest of the state was Confederate. Diary extracts show that stores at Brynyfynnon were plundered, and meals and board had to be offered to soldiers; sometimes payment would be made for these but not always.

At first Brynyfynnon mainly provided food and shelter but as the war progressed the Union troops took more of their provisions and supplies. Sometimes the troops left insufficient hay for the Roberts' animals to feed on, and the livestock subsequently died. Troops also took their guns, rifles, pistols, powder, and stirrups---in fact anything that could be of use. At times their lives were threatened and several of their friends were killed.

The war restricted movement, although Roberts managed two tours in the North. However he was coming under increasing criticism from the North; some found it hard to understand his residency in Tennessee given his anti-slavery stance, particularly while their friends and family were fighting in the war. Locals suspected the Roberts of being Fifth Columnists working for the North.

The end of the war did not improve their lot; they still were beset with financial problems and legal wrangling over land. There was still much opposition and misunderstanding from the Welsh speaking communities over their position in the war.

Defeated in his dream of a Welsh Utopia and financially ruined, in 1866 Samuel Roberts sailed for Wales. He came back to the States in April 1870 to arrange for the sale of the land in Tennessee, before returning to Bryn Mair on Conwy Morfa in North Wales. Roberts remained there for rest of his life, devoting his energies to the life of ministering, to theological colleges and to political journalism.


Sources: http://caloncymreig.tnhillbillie.net/index2.php?option=com_content&do_pdf=1&id=9
www.bbc.co.uk/wales/mid/sites/history/pages/fionarichards4.shtml
http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~bebbfamilyhistory/joansess.htm