Appalachian History

Annie Taylor could get away with anything she pleased at school. Her father Champ was feared in Catawba Falls, NC by every teacher who had ever tried to rein her in; he'd threatened to kill several, and had literally run one out of town. Then Annie crossed swords with Miss Daintry Graham one day in class, and got the whipping of her life. It wasn't long before Champ came in search of Miss Graham:

"I got me a piece of chicken wire and went out into the river to wade, because that was the most defiant thing I could think of. There was a fish in that river that I'd tried for days and days to catch, and couldn't. I decided to seine him up; and I did. I know now, and I didn't then, that he was a big-mouth bass and that he would have weighed approximately seven pounds. He was a whale of a fish. I strung him onto a forked alder stick.

"Then I heard Champ Taylor coming down that river, cursing at the top of his voice: 'Git in that road and git to running, I'm a coming and I'm a-going to cut you into shoestrings and strew 'em from here to Old Fort. Come out from under that bed and git to running.' I just calmly waded along, because I had buckled on a .38 by the side of me before I went into that river and I made up my mind that if that man bothered me I was not going to waste a bullet; that I was going to shoot about the third button of his shirt. I knew that I could hit it, too, because I'm that kind of a marksman.

"Anyway, he was raising Cain until he came down and got even with me. There were alder bushes along the creek and he couldn’t see me till he got right even.

"I said, 'Oh, wait a minute, wait a minute, I want to show you my fish.'

"Well, I had decided when I got that fish what I was going to do, and I'd put a nice little bullet hole right through between its eyes. I held it up: 'Look, see my fish. This river makes so much noise, I've got to come further out.'

Rural One-Room School, P. R. Young and pupils, Transylvania County, NC, 1903, left half of photo.

"So I waded out nearer to him, and all the time my mind was going two ways. I was talking like somebody that had no sense, but my mind was saying: 'Don't shoot him unless he takes his hands off of that saddle. As long as he holds that pommel of that saddle, don't shoot. Don't shoot till he tries to come down; watch his hands, then aim for the third button on his shirt and just let one bullet do it all.'

"But I was talking. I said, 'Look at my fish. I had to put a bullet between his eyes, but I got him. Didn't take but one bullet. I got me five more in here,' and I waved the gun out and sashayed it around. I said, 'I've got five more shots in here, all ready, and I think I've got six more in my pocket. Yep, I can re-load if I want to.'

"You see, what I was doing was letting him know that I could blow him off of that mule if I wanted to. And I was letting him know that he'd better 'tend to his own business, but I was doing it in a very gentle way.

"I was giving it time for the idea to soak into his weak mind. Well, he didn't know what to do, for the last thing he expected was to see the teacher in a short dress, wading in the water, with a fish in one hand and a gun in the other hand.

"And the last thing he expected was one that could talk in a calm voice and that was just like a little girl so excited over a fish.

"Directly, when I saw that old Adam's apple begin to jump up and down in his old long throat; it began to go up and down before he could. . . he didn't know what to say, and I knew he was up a tree, and when I saw his shoulders sink, I knew right then that I had won. When his shoulders slumped, I knew right then that the day was mine.

"I said, 'Oh, you'll have to excuse me for being so enthusiastic over a fish. I've got to tell you something: you're the very man I wanted see.' I said, 'You know something, I had to whip your daughter today, because she went through these woods down here to meet those old wagon drivers, and I know that you and your wife want to raise decent children and you don't want any unexpected grand-children, and the proper procedure is to just keep those girls out of that road, and I told them I'd switch 'em if they went down there and they did, and I switched them.

"'More than that, I've got another supply of switches on hand, and if they don't mind me, I'm going to switch 'em again.'

"'That's right, Miss Graham, put the wood to 'em, and if you can't do it, just report it to me.'

"Big change in attitude, I mean. I wasn't letting him know that I'd heard all that cursing coming down the road. I was making him think that that water made too much noise, and that I couldn't hear him.

After that, I had no trouble."


Daintry [Graham] Allison
(b. 1896 in Old Fort, NC)
Interviewed July 24, 1975
Southern Highlands Research Center
Louis D. Silveri Oral History Collection,
D. H. Ramsey Library Special Collections,
University of North Carolina at Asheville

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

Shortly after taking office in 1933, President Franklin Roosevelt announced plans for creation of a "conservation army." FDR at first saw the Civilian Conservation Corps primarily as a forestry organization -- fighting fires, planting trees, thinning timber stands, stopping soil erosion and floods -- but the field personnel of the State and Federal agencies involved soon realized that CCC labor might also be directed toward the construction of forest improvements--particularly roads, trails, buildings, and recreation sites. The CCC men literally built the foundations on which the national forests now stand.

Camp Ellison D. Smith F-l, located near the Whetstone Road in Oconee County, was the first CCC camp to be located in South Carolina. This and two others soon to follow employed approximately 800 men at their peaks, and remained operational for nearly 10 years.

The men of these camps built Oconee State Park, Long Mountain Fire Tower, and Walhalla Fish Hatchery, and rebuilt Highway 107. There were many other less obvious projects. Millions of trees were planted; girdling to kill undesirable rotten trees was done on thousands of acres; growth plots for long-term forest inventory were established. Erosion control work was done on eroding fields which were on farms purchased by the Forest Service; property boundaries were surveyed, painted, and posted, in addition to wildlife being stocked.

Hard work, fresh air, and plenty of food were considered essential for CCC employees to accomplish one of the goals established by the office of education, "to develop an appreciation of nature and of country life." And to that third end, here is the 1938 Thanksgiving menu for Camp 1:

OLIVES
GIBLET GRAVY
CANDIED SWEET POTATOES
GUAVA JELLY
FRIED CORN
FRUIT PUNCH
SWEET PICKLES
CREAM OF PEA SOUP
SALTINES
ROAST TURKEY
CRANBERRY SAUCE
ROAST PORK HAM
HOT ROLLS
LETTUCE SALAD
BUTTER
CELERY HEARTS
OYSTER DRESSING
CREAMED CAULIFLOWER
GRAPE JELLY
CREAMED POTATOES
PUMPKIN PIE
FRESH FRUITS
PLUM PUDDING
CIGARETTES
ICE CREAM
NUTS
COFFEE
MINCE MEAT PIE
ASSORTED CANDIES
BRANDY SAUCE
CIGARS
FRUIT CAKE

Oconee State Park was listed in the National Register of Historic Places on June 16, 2004.

sources: http://ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/sc/oconee/history/MR-03.txt
www.nationalregister.sc.gov/oconee/S10817737015/index_2.htm

related post: "He is now in the C.C. Camp"

CCC Oconee+State+Park Oconee+County+SC appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+culture

In Appalachia Santa Claus comes the weekend before Thanksgiving.

Since 1943, the Santa Special, more commonly known as the Santa Train, has traveled 110 miles through the mountains of eastern Kentucky, southwest Virginia and northeastern Tennessee to distribute loads of candy, toys and other goodies to eager bystanders, most of whom have made it a family tradition. The train typically passes through more than 30 towns delivering Christmas cheer.

This year Wynonna Judd is joining CSX as the special guest on the 2009 Santa Train. Wynonna, who is originally from Ashland, KY, is revisiting her childhood as a part of her partnership with CSX, Food City and the Kingsport Area Chamber of Commerce.

The 67th annual Santa Train will make 14 stops on Nov. 21. Wynonna, Santa Claus and volunteers will deliver 15 tons of toys to thousands of Appalachian residents who live along the route. “Sharing the joy of the season with children who grew up just like I did is something that I am so privileged to have the opportunity to do,” Wynonna said. “Appalachia has always been close to my heart, and participating in the Santa Train is something very special to me.”

Train staffers throw candy, crackers, popcorn, bubble gum, cookies, stuffed animals, electronic games, hats, handmade gloves, mittens, toboggans, T-shirts, wrapping paper and other treats from the train’s caboose.

The Santa Special was the brainchild of Kingsport, TN businessmen who wanted to show their appreciation to the people of the coalfields for their patronage throughout the year.


Santa Special officials have said that the first Santa Train pulled just one car and a meager load of gifts. It reached towns and cities that at the time had no other means of transportation. Some believe the train provided many children the only toys they received during World War II.

Joe Higgins played the role of Santa Claus in 1943-44 --- the run's first two years.

sources: www.dickensoncounty.net/santatrain.html
www.kingsportchamber.org/portal/santaframe.htm
http://www.appvoices.org/index.php?/site/voice_stories/santa_train_rides_again_through_appalachia/issue/523


Santa+Train Joe+Higgins CSX Kingsport+TN Pikeville+KY Christmas+in+Appalachia appalachia+history +appalachian+culture

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.

Mountain 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


woolly+worms Banner+Elk+NC weather+prediction appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+culture appalachian+mountains+history

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.

But 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


Ginseng West+Virginia+Ginseng+Growers+Association Panax+quinquefolius appalachia +appalachia+history appalachian+culture appalachian+mountains+history

That spring, I gathered up suitable pieces of scrap lumber wherever they could be found in order to construct a brooder house. Many of these boards came from a discard pile of surplus materials at the mill where Daddy worked. He often reclaimed a lot of useful items that were otherwise destined to be hauled off to the town dump.

The seven by eight foot structure had a shed roof and was only five feet high at the back. The sacrifice of head room in the design limited the space to be heated during March and April. Initially, the only source of light was a large window installed at floor level. Its southern exposure brought an abundance of afternoon sunshine, providing some solar warmth before the balmy spring days arrived.

Our neighbor Bernard Butler sold us a small top-loading coal burning stove. A removable round sheet metal hover radiated the warmth downward.

Daddy suggested an easy way to hoist and securely dangle the stove in midair. He appended a wire bail to the hover and attached a snap buckle fastened to one end of a rope pulley. A lip on the top of the stove helped keep it suspended about six inches from the floor. This gap allowed the chirping chicks to go to and from the heat at will.

The lifting device was easy to operate and gave enough working room to remove the ashes from the stove as well as to clean the area where the chicks nightly huddled. A fresh bed of wood shavings every day restored the space to spic and span sanitary condition.

The stove had a regulating apparatus of sorts to control the updraft, which in turn helped govern the rate of combustion. There were two opposing mercury-filled metal chambers, each one shaped like a small pancake, that acted as a thermostat. Their expansion when heated caused the damper to open and slow the coal’s burning rate. As they contracted, the closed system got the fire going again.

This assemblage wasn’t perfect. When falling temperatures called for more heat, the movable plates that regulated the draft didn’t always respond properly. Also, the small stove required constant restoking. Given these circumstances, the habitat of my little charges needed fairly constant monitoring, both day and night. The first two weeks were critical, a time when young chicks are really susceptible to chills, and the greatest losses occur.

My vigil began several days before the cute fuzzy chicks arrived. I lit the stove, kept the fire going to dry out any dampness, and made sure everything was hunky dory. Maintaining a uniform environment demanded discipline. Once we settled the chicks in the brooder, I had to set an alarm clock and get up at least twice on the chilliest nights to keep close check on our investment. Once I had dressed and bundled up for these nocturnal visits, a bright beam from a flashlight pointed the way. Sometimes the heavens, luminous with the full moon’s radiance, projected my shadow along the pathway.

Opening the door to discover cozy warmth insider the brooder house both soothed my shivers and reassured me that all was well. I routinely added more coal and waited for the embers to burn brightly before returning to the house and crawling back into bed.


Excerpt from 'The Day is Far Spent,' by Kenneth A. Tabler, Montani Publishing, 2006
b. 1926, Martinsburg, WV



chicken+house farm+chores appalachia appalachia+history history+of+appalachia

"Once we hit a place where a feud was being settled. It was back in the hill country of Virginia and the place was called Rocky Comfort. It really wasn't a town. There was a water-power grist mill, a store, a blacksmith shop and about a quarter of a mile up the little valley there was a meeting house, where traveling preachers would sometimes hold revivals which were called camp meetings.

"The feud was between the Buxton --or Bruxton-- and another bunch of natives named Greenberry,--I think that was the name.

"Old Uncle Jed Buxton, a tall, sharp-eyed old fellow with a yellowish-gray, hang-down, moustache was boss of the Buxton bunch and Grandpappy Lindsay Greenberry was head of the enemy tribe.

"I never heard what the feud started over, probably some Buxton stole a Greenberry pig, or some Greenberry shot a Buxton cow. But whatever it was that started it there'd been killing on both sides and from what I heard about it they were always gunning or ganging up on each other, or cutting each other up with Bowie knives. The cause of the feud wasn't important, though; it was the way it ended that seemed funny to me.

"And a queer thing was that both tribes were religious and when they'd go to the camp-meetings they've have a temporary truce while the meeting was going on.

"It was at the camp-meeting the feud ended. The preacher was a big raw-boned Hard-shell Baptist, and he certainly believed in hell-fire and damnation; and when he'd get up and start to preach he'd always pull out a twist of long-green tobacco and pull off a big chew--then he was ready to go at it. And he went.

"He was almost as good as Doc Porter when it came to oratory. He talked hell-fire and brimstone...sizzlin' and bilin' and smokin' until he'd have the whole audience sweating and groaning. Finally he got under the hides of the Buxtons and Greenberrys and had them all tremblin' on the brink as he called it...jest hangin'over eternal damnation by a brickle thread!

"The payoff was that old Uncle Jed Buxton and Grandpappy Greenberry both got more religion than they'd ever got before and decided to make peace and stop their tribes from carving and shooting and beating each other up.

"The preacher got them together at the mourner's bench and got them to agree to make friends and be brethren. But they had to do something to prove the treaty would last and they could trust each other... And that's where the funny part of it came in.

"Old Uncle Jed Buxton and Grandpap Greenberry acted for the whole bunch of each of their tribes. The peace ceremony was performed at the camp-meeting in the presence of the whole audience, the Hard-shell Baptist preacher acted as master of ceremonies. You'd never guess how they pledged themselves and proved that they trusted each other. Those two old mountain codgers who had been killin' enemies shaved each other! And not with safety razors either!

"They did it right on the preacher's platform while the whole congregation looked on and muttered a lot of 'Amens' and 'Praise the Lords.'

"They drew straws for to see who should shave who first, and Uncle Jed Buxton got the chair first. Grandpappy Greenberry lathered Uncle Jed up, took that wicked long-bladed razor (the preacher supplied the outfit) and whittled the whiskers off of Uncle Jed's face and neck...but when he got down around Uncle Jed's wind-pipes I noticed the Buxton clan got mighty tense and silent. But Uncle Jed didn't bat an eye while his old enemy was fooling around his neck with that darned sharp razor!

"When Uncle Jed was well shaved, Grandpappy Greenberry sat down in the chair, which was a common hickory split-bottom kitchen chair, and Uncle Jed took the razor and went over him!

"That settled the feuds. Each had trusted his neck to the other when the other had a sharp razor in his hand...and as far as I know they never feuded again. But I'll say those two tough old mountain hillbillies had a lot of nerve."


Source: Library of Congress, American Memory, American Life Histories: Manuscripts for the Federal Writers' Project, 1936-1940. From an interview conducted with William D. Naylor on Sept, 19, 1938; Sept. 27, 1938; Oct. 1 and 3, 1938 by Earl Bowman



appalachia appalachia+history camp+meeting feuds history+of+appalachia revival+meeting

On October 1, 1755, while returning home from Fort Cumberland [MD] Trading Post several miles away, white settler Jane Frazier was captured by Miami Indian warriors and taken to the Miami River in Ohio. "By a person who arrived in town last Monday from Col. Cresap's (Oldtown about ten miles from Ivitts Creek)," reported The Maryland Gazette on October 9, "we are told that last Wednesday the Indians had taken a man prisoner who was going to Fort Cumberland from Frazier's and had also carried off a woman from Frazier's Plantation which is four miles this side of Fort Cumberland."

Fort Cumberland in 1755, from "History of Cumberland, Maryland", 1878, by William Lowdermilk.

Jane Frazier miraculously escaped after thirteen months and made her way back to safety. She wrote a detailed narrative of her experience, which has been preserved by successive generations of her family: "Thus to be torn away from home and friends and all that was dear to me, and consigned to live like a brute among savages, and then to lose my only comfort, my first born, and have it buried in this wilderness, was more than my frail nature could bear, and I was nearly crazy for a time. Still the Indians were kind to me, and when they saw my child was dead, they cut a hickory tree, peeled off the bark and made a coffin, and wrapping it in some of the clothes they had stolen, they placed it in the coffin they had made and buried it near our town in their own burying ground.

"I remained with these Indians 13 months, in the summer time helping the squaws in their corn and vegetable patches and in the winter time assisting them in their cooking operations. While I was with this tribe they determined on another raid into Pennsylvania, consequently they performed their powwows and war dances, in order to give them good luck in their expedition, then left for their long trip. They took all their best warriors, leaving a few old men and some boys to hunt game and food for the squaws and papooses.

"The chief and warriors were gone about seven weeks. They returned bringing with them two Dutchmen from Pennsylvania, whom they adopted into the tribe. One of them was a tanner by trade, and they employed them to tan their skins for them. He worked a little ways from the town where there was a large spring and the other man was allowed to help him. These men were very restless in their confinement.

"A little later the Indians determined on another raid, and in a few days departed. The Dutchmen now determined to leave, and let me into their secret, so we procured an old rifle which they repaired, and we hid all the provisions we could find, and a week after the warriors were gone the game became very scarce, so the hunters had to be out nearly all the time for provisions for the squaws and children. We now concluded this would be the best time to gain our liberty, so obtaining a small amount of ammunition we gathered up our old gun and some provisions and left our new connections without stopping to say goodbye, and taking advantage of the warriors and hunters we left for home."

Full version of her narrative here



Ft+Cumberland+MD Jane+Frazier Miami+Indians Ohio+River appalachia appalachia+history history+of+appalachia

"We go to bed at night and get up in the morning, and our Milk Bottles are standing on the back porch waiting for us," observed Rev. W.L. Stidger in a sermon titled 'Milk Bottles & Monotony.'

"Fifty years ago we got up at five o'clock, dressed in the cold, shivering as we dressed, went out to the barn, knocked ice from the buckets, primed the old iron pump with hastily heated hot water, and milked the cows before breakfast. We worked for our milk then. Now it is brought to us. That is monotony."

William Stidger in Missouri, about 1925.

Stidger published this sermon in 1926, the same year that writer Sinclair Lewis was spending time shadowing the famous preacher as part of his research for a forthcoming novel about the Chautauqua circuit and the preachers it produced.

Stidger himself apparently wasn't bored having his milk brought to him. He had a full time maid and gardener when he wrote these words.

William Leroy Stidger (1885-1949) attracted Lewis' attention for the modern marketing methods and publicity tactics he brought to his crusade to save souls.

Long before Sinclair Lewis appeared in his life, the future preacher grew up to the slow tempo of late nineteenth century daily life in Moundsville, WV. This town of 5,000 souls was disrupted each summer by Methodist revival camp meetings that more than doubled the population.

"The town rocked with religion each summer," says John Hyland in Evangelism's First Modern Media Star: Reverend Bill Stidger. "It was a form of group hysteria. People would climb over chairs to get down the aisles to confess their sins."

Religious fervor wafted through the heat in the summer of 1901 as Rev. William B. King pressed his followers to find salvation. One audience member, 16-year-old Bill Stidger, decided then and there to follow the ministry. "He learned about evangelism from the exhorters," notes Hyland, his grandson.

Moundsville, West Virginia in 1899.

Stidger went on to become an ingenious innovator whose marketing abilities filled churches wherever he pastored: San Francisco, San Jose, Detroit, Kansas City, and Boston. He wrote 52 books, ran FDR's radio reelection campaign in 1936, and taught techniques for sermon writing at Boston University's School of Theology. He was one of the first radio preachers. By the mid-1930s, Stidger had a radio audience of half a million listeners.

Sinclair Lewis and Stidger first met in Terre Haute, IN in August of 1922 when Stidger was lecturing on the Chautauqua circuit. He challenged Sinclair Lewis to write a "real preacher book" about a minister "who lives and walks and has a being; not all good, not all bad---some of both---a human being."

Four years later Lewis accepted the Reverend's invitation to stay at his house to help get the sense of a preacher's world. Lewis wasn't the best houseguest: he stayed with the Stidgers for several weeks, during which time he was visited by Ethel Barrymore, Edwin Markahm, William Allen White, Gilbert Frankau and Harpo Marx. They came to attend a wedding between Stidger's maid and a gardener - a ceremony which Stidger had planned to conduct quietly. But Lewis slipped out and called a newspaper and the wedding made the front page.

When Elmer Gantry released, Stidger was pastoring the Linwood Boulevard Methodist Episcopal Church in Kansas City, MO. He'd let it be known that Lewis would be writing about him, which led many to think he was the model for Gantry (which, in part, he was). Naturally, he was outraged when he saw how Lewis had shaped the novel---nearly every man of God is either a hypocrite or a closet agnostic.

This photograph of Sinclair Lewis was taken by Nikolas Muray for Vanity Fair magazine in the 1920s.

The Gantry publication created a church backlash and the book was banned and burned in many cities. Stidger declared that the book contained fifty technical errors in its account of church practices and that the author had been drunk all the time he was working on the book.

Shot back Lewis: “Stidger was a flamboyant man who in many ways resembled Elmer Gantry…unaware of the kind of novel that Elmer Gantry was to be, he went to Kansas City…boasting that the central character was to be modeled on himself.”

A bitter battle ensued between the two men, conducted in the press and from the pulpit, which neither of them ultimately won.


Sources: "Stidger," Russell Maloney, The Talk of the Town, The New Yorker, March 2, 1940, p. 9
Evangelism's First Modern Media Star: Reverend Bill Stidger, by Jack Hyland, Cooper Square Press, 2002
www.stidger.com
www.archive.org/stream/MN40290ucmf_8/MN40290ucmf_8_djvu.txt
Sinclair Lewis, by Richard R. Lingeman, Minnesota Historical Society, 2005
Sinclair Lewis: an American Life, by Mark Schorer, New York, McGraw Hill, 1961



are delightfulappalachia William+Stidger Moundsville revival+meeting Sinclair+Lewis Elmer+Gantry +appalachia+history history+of+appalachia

Middlesboro Daily News
Middlesboro, KY
Feb. 5, 1921

There are some persons who are emotional to such an extent that they completely lose control of themselves and let their emotions sway them. When persons of this nature are overcome by their emotions, they cannot control themselves and they are not in a position to judge of their actions.

Mrs. Lucy Chadwell, a member of the church of "Holy Rollers," who lives in the East End, by her own admission in police court today, is such a person. When Mrs. Chadwell, accompanied by her daughter, attended the services last night in the Second Baptist church, and her religious feelings overcame her so that she shook and rolled, thereby throwing those present at the service into a state of alarm and disturbance, the Rev. A.L. Chadwell of the Second Baptist church, swore out a warrant for the arrest of Mrs. Chadwell on the grounds of disturbing the peace and breaking up religious services. 

When arraigned before Judge Wood in police court this morning. Mrs. Chadwell declared that she did not mean to create a disturbance or to break up the services. "I was so overcome with the spirit of religion," she told Judge Wood, "that I could not hold myself back. The Holy Ghost was within me and I could do nothing but give demonstration to my feeling."  During the hearing, which was attended by a large number of the members of Mrs. Chadwell's church, a demonstration was given showing how services are conducted by "Holy Rollers." 

Judge Wood placed Mrs. Chadwell on probation, with the warning that if any more complaints of a similar nature are made, he will be compelled to deal more severely with the offender.


source: http://kykinfolk.com/bell/newspaper_abstracts.htm



Holly+Rollers religion+in+Appalachia Bell+County+KY appalachia appalachia+history history+of+appalachia

Prior to easily retrievable birth certificates, marriage licenses, death certificates, and digitized record keeping in general, the family Bible held the ultimate narrative of ancestral history.

They’re a treasure trove for both genealogists and historians. For example, here’s a simple entry in the Lampton family Bible, which was carried from southwest Virginia as the household migrated to eastern Kentucky: "Jane Lampton, born 1803, married John M. Clemens" Lampton and Clemens were the mother and father of Samuel L. Clemens --Mark Twain.

More often than not, the family Bible was the only written record of births, marriages and deaths of loved ones. In addition, between the leaves of this precious possession one could expect to find a wealth of newspaper clippings, letters, photos, and other ephemera pressed for safekeeping over generations of forbears.

It was understood that the book was to be carefully guarded and passed along: "1960 -- This Bible goes to Mary Rose. after I am done with it. Momie [sic] Promised it to her. Dad" And: "I wonder how old this old Bible is. Gert gave it to me sometime after Mother Hawkins died. Someday it will be yours. Love, Mother."

Most family Bibles present dates without any embellishment, but every now and again a quirky personality shines through. The transcriber of Thomas Snelling’s death entry seems obsessively precise in noting the time: "Thomas C Snelling died Dec 25, 1884 half past 1 o'clock and burried ten minuts of 12 the 26" [original spellings].

It was illegal for any printer in the Colonies to produce the English Bible. Publication of the King James Version of Scripture was controlled by Oxford and Cambridge University Presses as well as other printers licensed by the king.

In response, Colonial printers created a ‘family Bible’ with the addition of record keeping ability to circumvent the copyright restrictions of English law. They frequently included blank pages for multi-generational notes and commentary, as well as engravings and illustrations. These Bibles were sold in inexpensive serial editions.

After the Revolutionary War, the budding American legislature wasn't any more friendly to Bible printers. "An effort was made in its first Congress to restrict the printing of the [Bible] to licensed houses," says the Cyclopedia of Biblical, Theological, and Ecclesiastical Literature.

However, this political attempt to continue regulated distribution "was cut short by the first amendment to the Constitution, and the book was thrown into the hands of the trade at large, with anything but a beneficial effect on its general integrity."

Isaac Collins Bible from 1782; one of only two surviving copies.

England refused to send its former colonies any more Bibles, so demand for the Good Book was high and supply was low. Isaac Collins rose to the challenge in his Trenton, NJ print shop. He pre-sold 3,000 copies before the project was even begun, and by the time the presses stopped, 5,000 copies awaited eager hands.

Rag cotton linen paper was a precious commodity in early America, which forced Collins to resort to wood-pulp paper. His choice of stock was somewhat thicker than that used for books today. The resulting folio had the unintended benefit of more heft, greater durability, and a therefore a built-in likelihood of arriving at heirloom status.

Isaac Collins produced the most influential American Bible from the late 1700’s until the mid 1800’s, originating the “Family Bible” format we’ve come to know today.


source: "Imperial Bibles, Domestic Bodies: Women, Sexuality, and Religion in the Victorian Market" (review): English Studies in Canada - Volume 32, Issue 2-3, June/September 2006, pp. 203-206
The First American Bible, by Margaret T. Hills, American Bible Society, 1968
Cyclopedia of Biblical, Theological, and Ecclesiastical Literature, edited by John M'Clintock and James Strong, Vol. I, pg. 563, Baker Book House, 1981
www.greatsite.com/ancient-rare-bible-leaves/collins-leaf.html
www.biblerecords.com/news.html



family+bibles appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+history

In early 1907 consumer goods prices were high and continuing to increase, a situation set in motion by too easy credit. Most glaringly, the money center banks of New York City owed their depositors more money than the whole country possessed, real money and ‘credit money’ combined. The system couldn’t sustain itself that way any longer. A stock market "panic" hit that threatened to topple the New York investment banks and reverberate through the economy, triggering a depression.

The ‘Panic of 1907’ caused nationwide bank failures, timber prices collapsed, mine operations ceased, railroads stopped running, a rash of bankruptcies occurred, and a dramatic loss of confidence and a nasty economic downturn sank in for the next year. Although not as severe as many in the past, the Panic made clear the need for national legislation to protect bank depositors.

The First National Bank, of White County, TN was one of the few banks in that state which was able to keep open through the Panic. The Tennessee Bankers Association (TBA) took notice of that fact. They sought to craft a proposal to the state’s legislature that would emulate many of that company’s best practices.

Customers inside of the First National Bank in Jackson, TN, 1900.

The TBA’s lobbying activities were in fact responsible for the state’s 1908 legislature passing banking bills of very minor importance. The TBA made every effort to prevent what it considered undesirable legislation until it could present a bill satisfactory to banks as well as offering sufficient protection to depositors.

At each succeeding annual association convention many bankers increasingly felt that depositor protection legislation was inevitable. However, the legislative committee of the association found it very difficult to prepare a bill that met the approval of all the bankers in the state.

In 1911 the association convention resolved: “supervision is desirable and examination made by and under the authority of the State of Tennessee would strengthen confidence in state banks and prevent failures.”

When the convention of 1912 was held the legislative committee was able to present a bill which had almost unanimous support of the association members, and this bill was presented to the legislature of 1913.

On February 13, 1913, five years after the Panic of 1907, the legislature finally passed the Banking Act of 1913, which greatly strengthened the state's ability to oversee bank operations. It stated: [Section 1] “There is hereby created a Banking Department of the State of Tennessee, charged with the execution of all laws relating to corporations, firms and individuals doing or carrying on a banking business in the State of Tennessee. The chief officer of the Banking Department shall be known as the Superintendent of Banks, and he shall be appointed by the Governor upon the recommendations of the Tennessee Bankers Association, and his term of office shall be four years or until his successor is appointed in the manner aforesaid.”

The act required that every state bank within Tennessee should be examined by the superintendent or his examiners at least twice each year, or more often if he deemed it necessary.

The act established minimum capital requirements for banks: at least $7,500 in towns of less than 1,500 inhabitants on up to $50,000 in cities over 100,000 in population. It prohibited any bank from reducing cash on hand and due from banks or bankers below ten percent of demand deposits.

Loans could not be made to officers or employees except on approval of the directors or finance committee. Loans to one person or interest could not exceed fifteen percent of the capital, surplus and profits, except on approval of approval of a majority of the executive or finance committee.

Loans on or the purchase of the company’s own stock was prohibited, unless to prevent loss on previously contracted debts, in which case the stock had to be disposed of within six months.

On the national level, Congress was determined to create a central bank that provided a vigilant monetary policy, price stability, a more elastic currency and more careful supervision over the nation’s banks, and so the panic of 1907 led directly to the development of the Federal Reserve Act.


Sources: The Development of Banking in Tennessee, by Warren P. Gray, Capricorn House Publishers, 2007 (orig. publ. 1948)
Trust Companies, by Clay Herrick, Bankers Publishing Company, 1915
The Panic of 1907, by Robert F. Bruner, Sean D. Carr, John Wiley & Sons, Inc, 2007



banking+history Panic+of+1907 appalachia appalachian+history appalachia+history

"The home of Nathan Noble was known far and wide for the ample room, good living, welcome cheer and forest hospitality. The entertainment was noble, majestic and grand in its services and welcome in its invitation. A stranger never left the cabin door of these mountaineers hungry, unless it was destitute of food or the wants of the stranger were unknown to the inmates of the cabin.

"Early in the history of the settlement two Methodist preachers came to pass Sunday at the home of Noble, [and they] insisted that all the cooking be done on Saturday for Sunday. Their will in this was granted. Next morning, Sunday, Nathan had his wife prepare for him a warm breakfast and place it on the end of the table where they were to eat and place the cold meals on the other end where the preachers were to eat. Breakfast was called and the parties seated as intended.

Isabelle Deaton Turner: her father was Jackie Deaton, and her mother was a Noble. Brothers were: Joe Deaton, who ran the post office & railroad station at Wolfcoal; Brant Deaton, and Ned Deaton.

Photo mounted on cardboard. Middle Fork/Turkey area of Breathitt County.

"The meal had not proceeded far when the preachers asked that they be served with the warm breakfast whereupon Noble interrupted by telling them that they had requested that this be done and that they must eat the cold breakfast. Noble explained by saying that they had matters as they requested and that he wanted, so far as possible, people who ate at his house to have what they wanted and the way they wanted it.

"Sometimes a new preacher might find his way into the neighborhood. At that time it was almost considered sacrilegeous for the children to play or make a noise while the preacher was there. This quietness proved the breeding and manners of the home. Little Johnny or some other little boy was hard to hold in restraint very long. Something was sure to occur to bring a recital of the grammar or some of the most used words of the home vocabulary--- all to the annoyance of the mother or shame of the sister."

---History of Breathitt County, by E.L. Noble, (publ. 1928 in Jackson Times newspaper of Breathitt County KY)



Breathitt+County+KY mountain+preaching appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+history

No, they’re not taking over the world, they’re not Illuminati. The Masons were and are a fraternity of men who all share similar moral beliefs (including a belief in a God) and get together regularly, often to raise money for various charities. And for many decades they were at the center of small town life--being a Mason was the entree to a town's business and political elite--which is why their presence is widespread throughout Appalachia.

Members bill the study of Freemasonry as a system of morality veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols. This system offers three progressively harder grades, or degrees: Entered Apprentice, Fellowcraft, and finally Master Mason. There are numerous side degrees available in Masonry once a member has attained the Master Mason degree, though they are not part of the core rituals.

A side, or ‘chair,’ degree has a definite lesson to teach, and an inner meaning to its ceremony. Side degrees are not under the control of any central governing organization. Generally anyone who has received the degree can confer it upon someone else. Modern side degrees tend to be humorous fundraisers with the fees going to a designated charity.

The Thrice Illustrious Master is a good example of a side degree. “At a meeting of the Grand Council, Royal and Select Masters of North Carolina, held at Asheville in 1932, a resolution was adopted authorizing appointment of a committee to prepare a ritual for the degree of Thrice Illustrious Master,” says Ray Denslow in ‘Masonic Rites & Degrees.’

“Grand Master McKell appointed J. Ray Shute and J. Edward Allen as a committee to prepare the ritual, but charged with the responsibility of obtaining the right to its use from the Supreme Grand Chapter of Scotland, the only authority pretending to hold jurisdiction over the degree.

“The degree was exemplified at the annual assembly in 1933 and a committee was ordered to prepare the ritual, see that it was conferred at each annual assembly, and collect a $5.00 for each candidate, candidates being limited to those who had been elected as Masters of their respective Council.

“In some States the Order is referred to as the Order of Anointed Kings, in others, the Order of the Silver Trowel, and in other instances the Order of Thrice Illustrious Masters.

“Membership is limited to those who have been elected as Masters of Councils. The principal character is King David, and the ritual of the degree refers to events connected with the closing years of King David’s life.”

The ritual consists of two sections, the candidate representing the young King Solomon in both sections. In the first section, the candidate learns of the conspiracy by his half-brother Adonijah, to wrest the throne by cunning from Solomon.

He also learns of his mother (Bathsheba) interceding with the aged and ailing King David to prevent this. After securing David's approval, Solomon is symbolically conducted to Gihon by Benaiah where he is duly obligated, anointed and hailed as King by Nathan the prophet and Zadok, the High Priest.

In the second section, the newly anointed king is brought before his father David who, in his dying moments, instructs him in moral wisdom and counsels him to govern uprightly and to serve the Lord with all his strength. Upon Solomon's assent to all this, the king expires.


Sources: Masonic Rites and Degrees, by Ray V. Denslow, p 122, Kessinger Publishing, 2006
www.tngrandyorkrite.org/index.php?chapters=Y&page=OST

“John Henry was hammering on the right side,
The big steam drill on the left,

Before that steam drill could beat him down,

He hammered his fool self to death.”

---stanza 7 from one of the earliest written copies of the John Henry ballad,
prepared by a W. T. Blankenship and published about 1900.

He’s an American folk hero, the subject of numerous songs, stories, plays, and novels. The legend of John Henry began in Big Bend Tunnel, in Summers County, WV, which CSX Railroad still uses today. He was the best steel-drivin' man to ever grace the mountains of West Virginia, say the songs, working on the largest tunneling project in American history at the time.

That John Henry lived seems beyond doubt. That he drove steel in Great Bend Tunnel (as it was then called) in the early 1870's seems certain. That he drove steel against a steam drill and beat it seems likely. That he died from over exertion in the contest seems somewhat less likely, if eyewitnesses are to be believed.

In 1972, Michigan sculptor Charles Cooper completed this eight-foot bronze statue of John Henry. It stands in Memorial Park above the east portal of the Big Bend Tunnel near Talcott, West Virginia.

Mrs. C.L. Lynn of Rome, GA, sent her copy of the Blankenship songsheet quoted above to Guy B. Johnson, of the University of North Carolina, in the mid 1920s when he was collecting research for his forthcoming “John Henry: Tracking Down a Negro Legend.“ Johnson’s 1929 work was the first published book-length study of John Henry and the John Henry legend.

Johnson spent four days in Talcott, WV in June 1927 interviewing still-living men who were likely to have seen the event with their own eyes. Mr. C.S. (Neal) Miller told him "Now some people say John Henry died because of this test. But he didn't. At least, he didn't drop dead. As well as I remember, though, he took sick and died from fever soon after that.

"I came here when I was seventeen," said Mr. Miller, "It was the spring of 1869. In the fall of that year I began work at Big Bend. I carried water and steel for the gang of drivers at the east end. I would take the drills to the shop and bring them back after they were sharpened. I often saw John Henry, as he was on the gang that I carried water and drills for.”

John Henry ballad version by W.T. Blankenship, about 1900.

Folk historian Dr. Louis Chappell of West Virginia University had also interviewed Miller about the John Henry story, two years earlier. But his book, “John Henry, a Folk Lore Study,” didn’t make it to press till 1933. Neal Miller had told Chappell, "he didn't die from getting too hot in the contest . . . The boys around the tunnel told me he was later killed in the tunnel . . ." And a D.R. Gilpin said, "The last time I saw John Henry was when some rocks from a blast fell on him. I always thought he died in the tunnel."

Now, Guy Johnson was a highly respected scholar who had co-authored several works on African American song, but a bit of controversy surrounds his work with John Henry, as Chappell was quick to point out.

According to Chappell, Johnson at first thought that the character of John Henry was totally mythological, and that he may have hailed from Georgia or the Carolinas. After Chappell's work began to circulate in unpublished form, prior to 1929, Johnson took up Chappell's position for his study, without crediting Chappell.

Many rare book collectors today feel Chappell produced the superior work, which easily brings $250 a copy in the rare book market. Chappell's work was much more thorough than Johnson's, drawing on many contemporary newspapers, scientific journals, treatises on tunneling, and reports from the construction of other tunnels, as well as on the oral and written reports from his many informants. Chappell wrote with more conviction than Johnson about the certainty that John Henry was a real person and not just a legend.


sources: John Henry: Tracking Down a Negro Legend, by Guy Benton Johnson. (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1929)
John Henry, A Folk-Lore Study, by Louis W. Chappell, (Jena, Germany: Frommannsche Verlag, Walter Biedermann, 1933)
www.abaa.org/books/abaa/news_fly?code=49
www.americanfolklore.net/folktales/wv2.html
www.ibiblio.org/john_henry
www.threeriverswv.com/legend-of-john-henry.php
www.americanheritage.com/articles/magazine/ah/1963/6/1963_6_34.shtml



John+Henry Talcott+WV Big+Bend+Tunnel railroad+workers appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+history

The Knoxville Journal
1890-02-03

'An Elopement'

Chattanooga, February 2,-News reaches the city of a romantic elopement, with an unhappy ending, in Polk County, Tennessee, yesterday. A young farmer named Stancel stole the twelve year-old daughter of a planter named McCash. The eloping pair went to Cleveland and were married last night by Squire Harry Parke. This morning they took the track and walked as far as Red Clay, GA., twelve miles.

They were just beginning to feel safe from pursuit, when the irate father of the girl put in appearance, having come by rail from Cleveland where he had traced the fugitives. An animated triangular quarrel took place, but might triumphed and the old man took the girl under his arm and went back home, the disconsolate groom following at a safe distance. He had bought tickets to Dalton GA., and was to have taken the train his father-in-law went down on.


Source: http://genealogytrails.com/tenn/polk/newspaperbits.html



courting Polk+County+TN appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+history

Zane Grey is rightly known today as the "Father of the Adult Western." The author wrote more than 80 books, featuring rich western imagery and highly romanticized plots with often pointed moral overtones. He's the best-selling Western author of all time, and for most of the teens, 20s, and 30s, had a least one novel in the top ten every year, inspiring scores of imitators.

Yes, but what's that got to do with Appalachia? Well, Grey's ancestors had been vigorous pioneers in America's "First West", the historic Ohio Valley, and his boyhood thrill at their adventures would eventually motivate the grown writer to novelize both his family's own story and the stories of many another pioneer, as the great migration Westward coursed across the continent.

Pearl Zane Gray was born on January 31, 1872, in Zanesville, OH. The town was founded by Ebenezer Zane, an ancestor of his mother, Alice Josephine Zane Grey. (The spelling of the Gray family name was changed to "Grey" sometime during the late 1890s.)

Zane Grey with his three children, Romer, Loren and Betty in Lackawaxen, Pennsylvania, ca. 1916.

Ebenezer Zane's exploits played a very direct role in the shaping of Zane Grey's book 'The Spirit of the Border': "The writer is the fortunate possessor of historical material of undoubted truth and interest," he explained. "It is the long-lost journal of Colonel Ebenezer Zane, one of the most prominent of the hunter-pioneers, who labored in the settlement of the Western country.

"The author does not intend to apologize for what many readers may call the brutality of the story; but rather to explain that its wild spirit is true to the life of the Western border as it was known only a little more than one hundred years ago."

'The Spirit of the Border' was the final book in Zane Grey's first trilogy, which had begun with 'Betty Zane,' followed by 'The Last Trail.'

Inspired by the life and adventures of the author's great-great grandmother, 'Betty Zane' tells the story of the last battle of the American Revolution, in which the heroine was a young, spunky, and beautiful frontier girl named Betty Zane.

In 'The Last Trail,' a woman is kidnapped from Fort Henry by a band of renegades and hostile Ohio Valley Indians, and Lewis Wetzel and Jonathan Zane set out in pursuit, with little hope of survival.

Finally, in 'The Spirit of the Border,' Lewis Wetzel must single-handedly save Fort Henry, armed only with his long rifle and knife.

The true-life narratives of Betty Zane & Ebenezer Zane weren't the only stores of family tales Zane Grey had to draw from.

Ebenezer's youngest brother was one Isaac Zane.

It has long been the family history of all the Zanes that Isaac, who was captured in his youth and brought up and remained with the Wyandots, was adopted by the Chief and made a member of the Chief's family - and it was a part of that well understood history that he married what they were pleased to call an Indian princess, the daughter of the Chief.

That he was in the family of Chief Tarhe is almost unquestioned for Tarhe was the Wyandot Chief in this section of Ohio for many years,-his home town being Solomonstown, near to and just south of Richland in this county - and somewhat known by all persons trading and trafficking with the Indians.

Isaac Zane was captured and carried away from Virginia in the year 1762, being at the time nine years of age and being the youngest of five brothers. He was carried to Buffalo, thence to Detroit, thence to Sandusky, and to what is now Logan County. His brother Jonathan, who was captured with him, was ransomed and released and returned to Virginia.

Isaac was adopted into the family of the Chief of this particular tribe and like hundreds of other captives became enamored of Indian life,--and sometime in 1796 or 1797 must have married for in 1786 when General Logan came from Kentucky to destroy the Indian towns in the Mad River Valley, Zane was living in what is now Zanesfield, and what was then his home protected by a fort, or blockhouse, and had some four or five children.

He was not disturbed, it being understood that he was friendly to the whites. His eldest daughter married William McCulloch, the eldest of the three McCulloch brothers, William, Solomon and Samuel, all of whom were brothers of Ebenezer Zane's wife of Wheeling.

Before the time of his (McCulloch's) marriage, Tarhe, the Crane, had removed his village from Solomontown to the crossing of the Hock Hocking, at Lancaster, and it is family tradition that William McCulloch, who with his brother Jonathan was assisting Ebenezer Zane in cutting the road from Wheeling to the Limestone, there met the daughter of Isaac Zane, Nancy, who had gone to the home of Tarhe, her grandfather, on a visit and they were married in the year 1797, and afterward lived for a time at Zanesville.

---"Tarhe and the Zanes", by E. O. Randall, in Ohio History magazine, Volume 26, No. 1, January 1917

Zane Grey didn't stay in Zanesville. He lived for a time in New York, and spent most of his adult life in Altadena, CA. But Zanesville most surely stayed in him.


sources: http://ohsweb.ohiohistory.org/places/se07/index.shtml
www.zgws.org/zgbio.html
http://snipurl.com/awn7j
www.histfiction.net/noframes/authors/ZANE_GREY.html



Zane+Grey Zanesville+OH appalachia appalachian+history +appalachia+history

(continued from yesterday...)

When the Union forces first reached Atlanta, Callahan sent his daughter word not to go in for more goods, but to stay home with the children. From 30 miles away the loud roar of cannon could be clearly heard. She declared in 1928 that she would never forget the battle sound. Callahan was killed during the battle of Atlanta, after having fought for the Confederacy for several years.

After the burning of Atlanta, Sherman's march took him through the Indian family's cornfields, which were "in roasting ear," and Nancy assumed full responsibility for providing food for the other fatherless children.

Nancy remained single for over 40 more years. In her seventies, she married Norman Dollar and moved to the Mentone area. Twenty years later, her husband died. She managed to buy his tombstone by selling her cow. From this time until her death eight years later, the legends grew around Granny Dollar. She enjoyed embellishing the stories told about her and encouraged their telling. She told fortunes and managed to survive by growing chickens and vegetables and by the generosity of friends and neighbors.

"Another race has taken our fields, our forests and our game. Their children now play where we once were so happy. The trouble with the white race," she mused, "is that they lay up so much for old age that they quit work at 50 or 60 years. When they stop working, they get out of touch with nature; all wear shoes in summer which keeps them from God's good earth; then they begin to fail, and soon they are dead."

Her last years were spent on Colonel Milford Howard's property. The ruins of her cabin are almost hidden from DeKalb County Highway 156, on the south side of the road a short distance east of DeSoto Parkway. The chimney still stands and vines have taken over the decaying ruins. Across the paved road a dirt road meanders up a hill to the former site of Colonel Howard's Master School.

Colonel Howard is responsible for much of the legend surrounding Granny Dollar. In 1928 he wrote a feature story about her for The Birmingham News. He met Granny upon his return from a long stay in California. She had then settled into one of his cabins. Although his own financial situation was precarious, Howard agreed to provide for Nancy, which included a bit of fat meat in her greens and biscuits, her baccy for her ever-present corncob pipe, and rations for her “Injun” chickens and mongrel dog Buster.

Buster was very old himself, having reached the age of 20. He'd long served as Granny's faithful guardian, ever ready to attack anyone who approached either him or his mistress. He had frightened so many people and had even bitten several children, Buster was despised by the neighbors as a mean, vicious beast, but Granny had loved him.

Preparing for her own demise, Granny had saved twenty-three dollars toward a tombstone, but the money was stolen from her. Three years to the day from the publication date of the Progressive Farmer article about Granny Dollar, the January 28, 1931 issue of the Fort Payne Journal announced her death.

People in the community arranged for her burial beside her husband in Little River Cemetery, and Colonel Howard delivered the eulogy.

After Granny's funeral no one wanted Buster and he was equally unwilling to have anything to do with any prospective new master or protector. When neighbors went to check on the old dog, they found him gnawing the door, his angry snarl revealing the gums which once had held dangerous teeth.

After he refused to be coaxed or driven from his vigil, the mountaineers decided it would be more humane to chloroform Buster than to allow him to grieve himself to death or slowly starve. When Buster’s body was buried, another funeral was held with Col. Milford W. Howard, famous lawyer, congressman and author, eulogizing Granny Dollar’s faithful mongrel dog.

In 1973, largely through the efforts of Annie Young of Fort Payne, Granny’s tombstone was erected. The head of an Indian woman is inscribed at the top and "Daughter of the Cherokee" is written at the bottom, next to the dates "1826-1931" (her exact birth date is uncertain.)


Sources: www.desotostatepark.com/lol-Granny%20Dollar.htm
www.mentonealabama.org/Strayhorn/StrayhornLegends.htm
http://www.mentonealabama.org/Granny.htm



Granny+Dollar Ft+Payne+AL Trail+of+Tears Cherokees appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+history

She said she was 101 at the time of the interview in the January 28, 1928 issue of the Progressive Farmer, but she remembered the early days of childhood well.

There is no doubt that Nancy Emmaline Callahan Dollar, who came to be known as "Granny Dollar," was what is known as a character. This friendly old woman, who lived on Lookout Mountain about nine miles from Fort Payne, AL, enjoyed reminiscing and talking to visitors.

Born in Buck's Pocket (a five-mile-long gorge on Sand Mountain spanning DeKaIb, Jackson and Marshall counties) eight miles east of Coffeetown, Nancy was the daughter of a Cherokee father named William Callahan and a half Cherokee Indian, half Scots-Irish mother named Mary Sexton.

She enjoyed the games played by Indian children, including one called "dog and fox" and liked to pitch quoits, an activity similar to pitching horseshoes. She never attended any kind of school.

Nancy's father hunted game while the rest of the family raised corn and potatoes. On one occasion after having killed a very large deer, her father appeared to be very sad and unable to eat. The concerned mother, after persistent questioning finally elicited the reason for his distress. "I cannot eat my meat," he said. "I fear my three poor little children in South Carolina are hungry. I have a wife and three children in South Carolina and I was forced to leave them there." Nancy's mother replied, "Go and fetch them. There is room and plenty to eat."

Thus, Nancy's family soon included another mother and sister and two more brothers. The Cherokees were allowed to have more than one wife and in Nancy's family, at least, there appeared to be no dissension or jealousy. "My father's hut was enjoyed by all," she recalled.

She remembered that her mother appeared as happy over the new arrivals as did the children and had her big dirt oven full of baked potatoes and venison ready for the ravenous children. The two women labored together in raising the crops and caring for the family. Together, they had a total of 26 children, including three sets of triplets born to Nancy's mother.

This large family ate wild turkey, deer and fish with vegetables, which included cabbage, pumpkin and corn. Their corn was roasted with the shuck on. Johnnie cake, sweetened with molasses and hominy, were also common foods. The oven used for cooking their meals was made of red clay and was used under a shed outside the home.

When most Indians left this area to join the forced march over the "Trail of Tears," William Callahan avoided moving his family from their beloved mountain home by hiding in a cave. He did leave later, however, after an altercation with a white man named Jukes, during which the Indian, his temper aroused by curses and a false accusation, bit off Jukes' nose and one ear. Fearing that the Jukes family might retaliate by burning his home, Callahan moved to Georgia and settled in Marthasville, near Atlanta.

When Nancy was about 21 years old she sought a way to make money in order to help provide food for her many younger brothers and sisters. One of the mothers was now dead (she did not specify which one.)

She began hauling goods from Marthasville to the country stores near her home, a distance of 30 miles. She made long trips over rough roads in a covered, or tar-pole, wagon drawn by two mules. The wagon axles were greased and the mules hitched, unhitched and fed by Nancy herself.

Slaves helped her load the goods at Kyle Brothers Wholesalers and storekeepers helped her unload the cases of molasses, meat, salt, powder, lead, gun caps, shoes, dishes and wagon tires which she hauled for some 15 or 20 years. She was never robbed or molested in any way during the many trips she made alone.

During this period she became engaged to a storekeeper's son named Thomas Porter, but the Civil War ended this romance. Porter joined the Confederate Army and was killed in battle.

(continued tomorrow...)

Sources: www.desotostatepark.com/lol-Granny%20Dollar.htm
www.mentonealabama.org/Strayhorn/StrayhornLegends.htm
http://www.mentonealabama.org/Granny.htm



Granny+Dollar Ft+Payne+AL Trail+of+Tears Cherokees appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+history