Appalachian History

The August morning was overcast and a drizzly rain was falling. The few men around the courthouse door drew underneath the porch. The group was made up of three or four townspeople and a half dozen male teachers. The acquaintance existing among the latter was limited, or else they did not feel in a chatty mood. At all events they stood idly by, holding their hands in their pockets. One of them was glancing over the legal notices posted on either side of the entrance. Now and then a later arrival would pass over the diagonal path, generally exchanging salutations with members of the group.

On the stone facing of the porch stood Dr. Pellam, his hands in his pockets and a broad smile resting on his features. A short, stout man was approaching him.

"Hello, Doc," he exclaimed. "I see that Irish grin on your face. How are you, anyway?"

"Fine as silk, Tolby."

"The same crackerjack?"

"The same one. And have you come over from Terra Alta to look for trouble?"

"Trouble? How can a man get into trouble in this dry old town?"

"Just cut loose and try 'er on. We'll lay you out every whipstitch. The lockup is on this street and we keep it ready for such heathen as you."

"How big some people can talk," replied Tolby. "What in the mischief would you fellows do if it wasn't for court and one or two other affairs that come around about once every fly time? We let you have the institute this year just to keep you from getting totally discouraged. You have the dullest old shell of a town one can find in a month's drive. You can't even hear a railroad whistle except when the wind is favoring. Where would you come out at, if we fellows from the other side of the river didn't come over here and trim you up once in a while?"

"Now you remember our bargain," said the doctor, "I was to shave off my mustache if you would quit telling yarns for three months."

"Have to tell yarns over here to keep from feeling dead."

"Pshaw, you can't see straight. No stale, musty, second-hand jokes from you Terra Alta fellows. Suppose I would live in that one-horse town of yours, all chugged in among the hills? Just to see a few plow joggers jolt in over your bumpy roads and have to windlass themselves up to get from one street into the next? And when you see half a dozen old broken-down wagons blocking your street, you say business is lively. Why, the snowdrifts lay on your hills over there till the middle of June.

"Well, the rain's let up."


---excerpt from WINNING OR LOSING? A Story of the West Virginia Hills, by Oren F. Morton, Sincell Printing Company, Oakland, MD, 1901

text at www.archive.org/stream/winningorlosings00mort/winningorlosings00mort_djvu.txt



Terra+Alta+WV appalachian+humor appalachia +appalachian+history history+of+appalachia

Two other families came into the [Round Bottom, OH] neighborhood. One's name was Ransom, the other Wilson. These men got into trouble with each other, some of the neighbors took part with one and some with the other. I have heard my mother, and her brother and sisters, talking about this trouble.

They said there was a man that came there be name of Simons. I think from the way they talked about him that he was a bachelor. He was a wag, always having some witty expression to suit every case.

While this trouble was going on this man Simons dreamed a very singular dream. He dreamed he died and went to hell. Soon after he got there he met the Devil, who began to ask him questions. After some questions he asked him where he was from. He told the Devil he was from Round Bottom, Round Bottom -- as if he was in study.

"Why, there is where Ransom lives -- what's he doing?"

He told him that Ransom was dead. The Devil called to his boy and told him to saddle his horse and bring it to him immediately, that he must go to Round Bottom, for Ransom was dead and the people have peace there now.

After this he thought of Wilson. On being told that Wilson was still there he called the boy back saying, "Never mind, Wilson is there and will do just as well as if I were there myself."

Athens [OH] Messenger
Sept. 7, 1899

FAMILY RECOLLECTIONS OF MRS. JUDGE DOWNING BAUGH
(nee Mrs. Sophronia Davis)


Source: http://galliagenealogy.org/History/fam_recollections.htm




appalachian+humor Gallipolis+OH Ohio+River appalachia appalachian+history history+of+appalachia

Shenandoah Herald
Woodstock VA
April 2, 1909

'To Find Your Affinity'

Your affinity is your mate, but unless you know the six types of happy married folks on Olympus, up to date, you may miss yours. Jupiter, king of heaven, ruler of men, house and business, must marry Juno, the queenly woman, plump, domestic, wise as Minerva, yet loving as Venus.

Venus should mate with Apollo, but being fond of all men and usually pretty, a Venus woman marries any one, often several times. Marry and be petted and adored she must or die.

Minerva, on the contrary, can be happy only with a Vulcan, a man her counterpart, wise, lofty, patient, a reformer, teacher and philosopher. Both have contempt for frivolity and meanness and vice.

Most all of the elderly single women in the world, especially those descendants from Puritan or Calvinistic stock, are single just because they are the Minerva type and too wise to marry anyone but Vulcans. And Vulcans, being the best of their sex, are scarce.


source: Library of Congress/Chronicling America: http://tinyurl.com/cxfzyg



appalachia appalachian+history appalachian+humor history+of+appalachia marriage+customs

The Leader
October 4, 1917
Meigs County OH

SCRAP OF HISTORY

From the Interesting and Eventful Life of T.H. Gold of Bedford

By invitation the editor of The Leader was a guest Sunday of the venerable Mr. and Mrs. T.H. Gold of Bedford.

David Stansbury, who Mr. Gold says was one of the best men he ever met, wanted a hand to help mow with a scythe in the meadow. Could Tom Gold mow? He would try. Mr. Stansbury told Tom Gold that another hand would be present to mow. Stansbury broke the information confidentially that the hand aforesaid had the reputation of soldering[sic] on the job, and he would like to have young Gold crowd him a little to get a good day's work out of him.

Next morning Tom Gold was in the meadow bright and early, with his scythe in perfect condition. It was then that Gard Neer appeared, climbed over the fence, whet his scythe, gave a look at the meadow and then took the lead to split it in the middle. Tom followed. Mr. Neer never stopped.

Faster and faster he went, and Tom exerting every muscle to catch up. Catch him he couldn't. He couldn't keep in speaking distance. Reaching the farther side, Mr. Neer whet his scythe and was backswathing his way back long before the struggling Tom had gotten across. Tom whetted his scythe and was desperately trying to make a good finish. It was no go. Gard Neer was a bear cat, beside whom Tom was a helpless novice.

At 10 o'clock, when young Tom Gold was doing anything but crowding his companion, so wet with sweat that there wasn't a dry thread on him, he chanced to look back and there lay David Stansbury bursting his sides in the cut grass with laughter. Mr. Gold didn't tell us so but we have a suspicion that Mr. Gold now thinks he had been coached to push one of the best mowers in Rutland Township. If so, it was a naughty trick on the part of David Stansbury, but Mr. Gold enjoys it to this day all the same.


source: www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~ohmeigs/news_by_year/1917.html



Meigs+County+OH hay+baling appalachian+humor appalachia +appalachian+history appalachian+mountains+history

The Chicken Thumb
A far fetched folktale from NC

Well folks, sit right back and let me tell you a little tale about how Hoopie the farmer and the Rooster named Red went at it one day.

Before I start, it is necessary for me to tell you a little something about Red. Red is one of them Barred Rock roosters. That’s the kind they take to them events called Cock Fights. Now Red was always doing things around the farm that were of questionable nature. To make a long story bearable, he did his job quite well: fertilizing that is. He done it so well that chickens no longer satisfied his insatiable appetite for fertilizing. That’s when the trouble begin.

At first it was Guinea hens that were the object of his desire. That was okay. Then next it was the ducks. That was a little odd but still bearable. It was when he moved up to geese that we began to take notice.

The day Hoopie woke up to Daisy, the milk cow, half mooing half screaming was the day that began as the end, or so we thought.

What happened next is about the craziest thing you ever did see.

Hoopie went running up to the barn to find Red eyeing Daisy in a way that makes your skin crawl, much like when you see a snake crawl up your pant leg. Hoopie commenced to chasing Red. Well Red ran and ran and ran. Hoopie chased that darn rooster for two days. Meanwhile, the weeds were growing up in the fields and the cow was about to burst from lack of milking. Hoopie stopped to milk and weed, then the chase started for another two days.

Something had to give.

Thinking ahead, Hoopie come up with a trap for that darn rooster. He went into his wife Maybelle's closet and picked out a right purty dress that he figured ole Red might find attractive. One thing led to another (you need to use your imagination here) and as Red tried to jump Hoopie, who now was the object of Red's desire, Hoopie swung around and grabbed that dab burn ole rooster around the gizzard.

There was feathers flying, necklaces flying, sqwaking and cursing. When the dust settled, Hoopie was sittin straggle legged on the ground with his wife's wig in one hand and Red in the other.

Hoopie gathered himself and immediately took action. He carried ole Red over to the wood pile where fate awaited.

Now Hoop had a few swigs out of the shine jug before he was able to get into Maybelle's dress and attire. Afterall, this was crazier than he could take sober. So, when the axe swung downward, aim being on the left rooster head instead of the right head, the axe blade cut clean through the fat thumb of Hoopie's left hand.

Red jumped up with just a knick and began crowing his success. Hoopie jumped up with a bloody stub for a thumb screaming for help. The rest of the thumb just laid there on the chopping block and stared blankly at the scene slightly removed from reality.

Hoopie scooped up the rest of his thumb and yelled for Maybelle. Off they went to the hospital with the thumb in a bucket of ice.

When Hoopie returned home from the hospital he was quite a sight. There he was with the thumb all bandaged up and Maybelle's dress and necklace for clothes with boots not to match. He was beyond mad at this point. All he could see were the looks of the people in the emergency room when he and Maybelle came running in with matching dresses and an apparent bucket of ice.

Well now, what happened next is only as predictable as the sun rising in the morning. Hoopie marched up to the barn and cornered Red in the hay loft. Red more or less knew that what was about to occur was destiny. So, Red went the way of all chickens that meet up with the losing end of a twelve gauge shotgun.


http://www.ibiblio.org/bawdy/folklore/thumb.html


The+Chicken+Thumb appalachian+folktales appalachian+folklore,appalachia appalachian+history appalachian+humor

Some know the song as "Nancy Brown," others as "The West Virginia Hills," but according to The Frank Gullo Music Sheet (sic) Collection at Millersville University, "She Came Rollin' down the Mountain" was written by Arthur Lippmann, Manning Sherwin, and Harry Richman and published by Crawford Music Corporation in 1932.

The ditty tells the tale of Nancy Brown, who throws over one suitor after another until she finds the man she's been waiting for: "A city slicker with hundred dollar bills." They live happily ever after, until…

In the hills of West Virginia
There's a gal named Nancy Brown
She was the fairest maiden
in city or in town
Now Nancy and the Deacon
climbed the mountainside one noon
they climbed up to the summit
but very very soon
She came rollin' down the Mountain,
rollin' down the mountain
Rollin' down the mountain mighty wide
No, she didn't give the Deacon
not a thing that he was seekin'
She remained just as pure
as the West Virginia sky.

Then there came that ol' cowboy
came a cowboy with his song
took Nancy up the mountain
but she still knew right from wrong
She came rollin' down the Mountain
rollin' down the mountain
Rollin' down the mountain by the Dam
and despite that cowboys urgin'
she remained the village virgin
she remained just as pure
as the West Virginia sand

Then there came that Old trapper
with his words so soft and kind
took Nancy up the mountain
but when she read his mind
She came rollin' down the Mountain
rollin' down the mountain
Rollin' down the mountain by the shack
She remained as I have stated
not the least contaminated
she remained just as pure
as Satin's apple jack

Then there came a city slicker
with a hundred dollar bill
took Nancy and his Packard
way up on the hill
Oh, she stayed up on that mountain
stayed up on that mountain
she stayed up on that mountain all that night
She came down next morning early
more a woman than a girly
and her pappy kicked that hussy out of sight

And now she's livin' in the city,
she's living in the city
livin' in the city mighty swell
Now her life's all beer and skiddles
and she lives on fancy viddles
and those West Virginia hills can go to hell.

Well there came a big depression,
and the slicker lost his pants;
First he lost his Cadillac,
and then he lost his Nance.
And she came back to the mountain,
She came back to the mountain,
She came back to the mountain mighty sore,
And the cowboy and the deacon
Got that thing that they were seekin'
And she's known as West Virginia's biggest...used car dealer.

A six-stanza parody of "She Came Rollin' down the Mountain"was published in 1952 by textile tycoon Elliot Springs, to advertise his Spring Maid bedsheets. Here's an illustration from that campaign.


Recorded versions:
Blue Ridge Mountain Girls, "She Came Rollin' Down the Mountain" (Champion 16743, 1934)
The Sons of the Pioneers' "Songs of the Prairie" (Bear Family 5-CD box set #15710, 1998)
The Callahan Brothes: 'The Callahan Brothers' Old Homestead (OHCD-4013, 1936)
The Aaron Sisters: Various Artists 'Flowers in the Wildwood: Women in Early Country Music 1923-1939' (Trikont US-1310)
Tex Morton's "Regal Zonophone Collection V.2" (EMI CD 8142052, 1997)


sources: http://answers.google.com/answers/threadview?id=308390
www.csufresno.edu/folklore/drinkingsongs/mp3s/field-work/other-collections/ed-cray-collection/american/westvirg150.txt
www.library.millersville.edu/sc/manuscripts/manus/scoreS.htm
www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/folk-song-lyrics/Nancy_Brown.htm


She+came+rollin'+down+the+mountain Nancy+Brown The+West+Virginia+Hills Appalachian+ballads appalachia appalachian+humor appalachian+history appalachian+mountains+history

These riddles, collected in the North Carolina mountains, belong to a familiar pattern, the seemingly obscene question with an innocuous reply. Texts from Ralph S. Boggs, "North Carolina White Folktales and Riddles," Journal of American Folklore, XLVII (1934), pp. 320-21.


The ole man shook it an’ shook it;
The old woman pulled up her dress an’ took it.

A man shook apples out of a tree, and his wife caught them in her dress.


The ole lady pitted it an’ patted it;
The ole man down with his breeches an’ at it.

She made up the bed, and he undressed and got into bed.


When it goes in, it’s stiff an’ stout;
When it comes out, it’s flopping about.

Cooking a cabbage.


Big at the bottom, an’ little at the top,
An’ a little thing in the middle that goes pippity pop.

A churn.


Little Jessie Ruddle,
Asettin’ in a puddle,
Green garters an’ yaller toes;
Tell me that riddle or I’ll smash yer nose!

A duck in a puddle of water.


About six inches long, an’ a might pretty size;
Not a lady in the country but what will take it between her thighs.

The lefthand horn on a lady’s side saddle.



riddles Ralph+S.+Boggs appalachia appalachian+history appalachian+mountains+history appalachian+humor