Listen Here: Appalachian History Weekly podcast posts today

Posted by Dave Tabler | January 29, 2012

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 right side of your screen. If you’d rather grab the show off itunes for later listening, click here:

Dave Tabler - Appalachian History - Appalachian History

We open today’s show with a 1957 interview of one Captain Jesse Hughes, of Washington County, OH. Capt. Hughes describes his experiences working for a river circus up and down the Ohio River at the turn of the 20th century: “At that time there was no such thing as an automobile, hardly. People had heard of them, but nobody had ever seen them hardly. [The circus manager] had a thing there on the boat that had four wheels on it and it was supposed to represent an automobile and boy there was a crowd around that thing all the time looking at it. It wouldn’t run. They had to pull it around when they wanted to move it and there wasn’t an engine or anything of that kind but it made a hit. Just goes to show how things were changed since that time.”

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.

There are family reunions and more family reunions in Alabama, but how many can claim their very own cove, complete with a pavilion in case of rain or a too enthusiastic sun? Furthermore how many have their very own museum? Or a commercial picture postcard with their name and a picture of the ancestral home site? John R. Kennamer, Sr organized the first Kennamer family reunion in 1929, and it’s still held today. Let’s listen in on how that first reunion unfolded.

Johnny Cash called the 1927 Bristol Sessions “the Big Bang of country music.” It’s a great sound bite, but it wildly oversimplifies the truth. Fiddlin’ John Carson, Uncle Dave Macon, Vernon Dalhart, Frank Hutchison, Ernest Stoneman, the Skillet Lickers, Riley Puckett and Charlie Poole were already established recording artists by the summer of 1927. We’ll poke around behind the scenes a bit to see what was bubbling up in country music prior to those famous Bristol Sessions.

We’ll wrap things up with a snippet from the memoirs of one R.D. Murphy Sr., who lived in Buchanan County, VA from 1867-1956. He was a farmer by profession, but was fascinated with the idea of Perpetual Motion, which was popular in the early 20th century. “I have always said that it could be made and would be made some time,” he concludes. “I have it so near completed at present that I know it can be finished and will be finished in the near future. If I don’t get it done myself, I hope that some of my posterity will finish it. I know science says that it can’t be done, but I say that it can be done, and will be done.”

And, thanks to the good folks at the Blue Ridge Institute Archives, we’ll be able to enjoy some authentic Appalachian music from Charles Edward Harris in a 1977 recording of Gather at the River.

So, call your old Plott hound up on the porch, fire up your corn-cob pipe, and settle in for a dose of Appalachian History.

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The ice knocked ‘The Greenland’ off the cradles and down the river she came

Posted by Dave Tabler | January 27, 2012

This is an excerpt from a 1949 letter written by Capt. Tom Greene, owner of Greene Line Steamers, to his friend Dan Heekin, a Cincinnati industrialist and river buff. The letter was discovered tucked in a copy of Steamboats & Steamboatmen by Ellis C. Mace.

“I have about decided to put the CHRIS GREENE’S whistle on the DELTA for the following reasons. First of all I like it as it is of low mellow ‘big boat’ quality. I don’t believe it will annoy the passengers sleep and it comes from the HOMER SMITH which boat was partially owned by one Capt. C.C. Bowyer a great friend of my Dad’s and a banker in Point Pleasant, W.Va.

“Capt. Bowyer was a ‘friend in need’ when the going was rough for my Dad and he went all out financially to help Dad after he had bought the WHITE COLLAR LINE from Commodore Laidley in 1903. Besides a good whistle I feel that it would be sort of a tribute to Capt. Bowyer from a sentimental standpoint to use this HOMER-SMITH-CHRIS GREENE whistle.

Capt. Tom Greene, owner of Greene Line Steamers“The TOM GREENE’S whistle is the most historic on the river. It was my Dad’s favorite and some of the oldtimers have said that my Dad bought the WHITE COLLAR LINE to get that whistle. It was then on the Str. COURIER. It had been on the sidewheel EXPRESS which I believe ran before the Civil War. It was later on the Str. ST. LAWRENCE and has always been known as the ST. LAWRENCE whistle.

“My Dad certainly loved this whistle and it was on nearly all the G.L. boats at one time or another. My Dad sorta wore this whistle as he did his hat and had it aboard the boat he generally thought he would be on for a long period.

“Just a little more history on the TOM GREENE-ST. LAWRENCE whistle while I’m about it. During the 1917-’18 ice siege, the GREENLAND had the ST. LAWRENCE whistle and at that time the GREENLAND was on the docks at the old Cincinnati Marine Ways here in East End.

“Of course you probably recall the ice knocked the GREENLAND off the cradles at that point and down the river she came in the gorge sideways. As I had been born on the GREENLAND my Dad called my Mother at home in Hyde Park and said, “…get Tom out of school and bring him down here to the wharfboat to see his birthplace go by,” which my Mother did. I was then eleven years old and in the formative age when things impress you.

“When I got down to the boat the gorge was moving fast, the other GREENE LINE boats had steam up and were ‘comin ahead strong.’ There was a ‘wailing and gnashing’ of timberheads, cavels and lines snapping. Pretty soon someone hollered, “here she comes,” meaning the GREENLAND. As the GREENLAND hove in sight on her side everybody stood in silence. There was an old purser on the wharfboat who had been on the GREENLAND a long time and he too was in love with the ST. LAWRENCE whistle and he said he would give a hundred dollars to anyone who could get that whistle off the boat when the gorge stopped moving.

“The next couple of days the GREENLAND was down about Rising Sun, Ind., and in the meantime some thieves went out on the ice and took off the whistle, got some chairs and the boats silverware. They were apprehended and the whistle returned. My Dad dropped the charges against the thieves feeling that getting the whistle back and the risk they had taken in going over on the boat in the gorge should cancel the charges against them.”

steamboat The Greenland caught in an ice gorge near Cincinnati OHCaption reads: Steamer Greenland 10 minutes after breaking away from Dock. Flood and Ice Gorge, 1918, Cincinnati, O.

The Greenland was Gordon Greene’s finest boat of his Greene Line fleet. He watched helplessly as the ice swept away three of his wharf boats. The Greenland was a total loss. An ice gorge was an ever possible winter danger up & down the Ohio River. It occurs as a result of river ice piling up against an obstruction, such as a wharf, forming a temporary dam. When that ice pack-up finally breaks, the channel formed down the river’s middle is the ice gorge. The river, which flows at the same speed as before, is now forced through a narrower channel, which means the churning waters rolling down an ice gorge are great destroyers of boats and anything else swept into it.

The White Collar Line was one of the early steamboat lines to ply the Ohio River and westward. Its Mississippi River network extended from St. Louis north to St. Paul. Its name comes from the broad painted collars encircling the tops of the ship smoke stacks, which identified the boats at a distance from rival lines.

The White Collar Line competed fiercely with an operator known as the Northern or Red Collar line for passenger and freight traffic. Each strove to profitably carry freight at lower rates than the other, and neither company was above giving passengers free berths and meals, or a money consideration on the side to win their business away from the other steamboat line.

Sources: www.vangrafx.com/PTHS/river/lafayettepg2.html
www.steamboats.org/history-education/tom-greene-letter.html
www.cincinnativiews.net/flood_&_ice_gorge.htm

ice+gorge White+Collar+Line steamboats Ohio+River appalachia appalachian+history appalachia+history

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The Greenbrier Ghost

Posted by Dave Tabler | January 26, 2012

On January 23, 1897, Elva Zona Heaster Shue of Lewisburg WV, a bride of three months, was found dead at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor of the log house where she lived with her new husband. Her body was discovered by a neighbor, a boy of about 11 years, who did chores for her. Her case remains to this day a one of a kind event in the American judicial system … the only case in which the word of a ghost helped to solve a crime and convict a murderer!

Zona Heaster ShueA state highway marker several miles west of town sums up Shue’s amazing story: “Interred in a nearby cemetery is Zona Heaster Shue. Her death in 1897 was presumed natural until her spirit appeared to her mother to describe how she was killed by her husband Edward. Autopsy on the exhumed body verified the apparition’s account. Edward, found guilty of murder, was sentenced to state prison.”

Upon finding the dead woman, Andy Jones, the neighbor boy, ran back to his home where he informed his mother, and then continued on to the blacksmith shop where Edward S. Shue was working. When told of the situation Shue appeared in great anguish, ran to his home, gathered his dead wife into his arms, and directed local doctor and coroner, Dr. George W. Knapp, be called. All during this time Shue held Zona’s head in his arms. After a brief examination, Dr. Knapp concluded that Zona “died of an everlasting faint,” i.e. a heart attack.

The body was prepared for burial with Shue assisting in the preparation of her body for burial, and placing her in the casket, always handling her head. He placed a folded sheet on one side of her head and an article of clothing on the other side of her head, which he said would make her rest easier. In addition, he tied a large scarf around her neck and explained tearfully that it “had been Zona’s favorite.”

Zona was taken to the home of her mother, Mrs. Mary Jane Heaster, on nearby Big Sewell Mountain. When the casket was opened Shue always remained at the head of the casket. The next day her body was buried in the little cemetery on the hill top. Nothing more was thought of the death other than that usual for a sudden death of anyone.

Shue house, Lewisburg WVWithin a month of the burial, however, the dead girl’s mother was telling neighbors that Zona’s spirit had appeared four nights in a row to accuse the blacksmith of her violent death – to “tell on him” – to set the record straight about her dying. Shue had been abusive and cruel, she said, and had attacked her in a fit of rage, savagely breaking her neck. Word spread quickly that these visions had convinced Mary Jane that the husband – who called himself Edward, but was really named Erasmus Stribbling Trout Shue, and was known as ‘Trout’ – had killed her daughter.

Mary Heaster and her brother-in-law Johnson Heaster went to Lewisburg prosecutor John A. Preston, who first disbelieved the story, but after several hours of questioning Mrs. Heaster became convinced that there was a basis for an investigation.

Dr. Knapp was consulted and he agreed that he might have been mistaken in his diagnosis. An investigation into Shue’s background revealed that he had served a term in the penitentiary and had been married twice previously, and both wives had died under strange circumstances. One wife was supposed to have died from a broken neck when she fell from a haystack. The other wife died while helping Shue to repair a chimney. He was on top the chimney and his wife was placing the rocks in a basket with a rope attached to it and as the basket was drawn up the basket turned and dropped the rock on the head of his wife.

Mary Jane HeasterAn exhumation was ordered and an inquest jury was assembled. The Greenbrier Independent reported that Trout Shue “vigorously complained” about the exhumation but it was made clear to him that he would be forced to attend the inquest if he did not go willingly. In rebuttal he replied that he knew that he would be arrested, “but they will not be able to prove I did it.” This careless statement indicated that he at least had knowledge that his life had been murdered.

The autopsy findings were quite damning to Shue. An Independent report on March 9 said that “the discovery was made that the neck was broken and the windpipe mashed. On the throat were the marks of fingers indicating that she had been choken [sic]….. the neck was dislocated between the first and second vertebrae. The ligaments were torn and ruptured. The windpipe had been crushed at a point in front of the neck.”

The findings were made public at once, upsetting many in the community. Shue was arrested, charged with murder, and taken to the jail at Lewisburg where he was held until his indictment by a Grand Jury and the trial in June.

On June 22, 1897 the jury returned a verdict of guilty after only one hour and ten minutes of deliberation. The accounts in the Independent make clear that Shue was convicted of the murder of his third wife on circumstantial evidence, and not because of a “ghost’s testimony.” He was sentenced to life in the state prison. Following a foiled lynching attempt a few days later, he was taken by train to the state prison in Moundsville, where he died on the first of March, 1900.

Sources: www.prairieghosts.com/shue.html
www.wvculture.org/HiStory/notewv/ghost1.html
www.wonderfulwv.com/archives/sept99/fea2.cfm

Greenbrier+ghost Zona+Heaster+Shue Trout+Shue appalachian+justice appalachia appalachian+history appalachian+mountains+history West+Virginia+history Lewisburg+WV

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Looks like the stork is visiting their house again

Posted by Dave Tabler | January 25, 2012

When I was born, I guess everybody just threw up their hands! The night I was born, Hobart went to visit with the neighbors, the Buckles family, across the street. According to Hobart, Mr. Gray Buckles said, “Well, It looks like the stork is visiting Oscar’s house again.” Joe Bush, one of the Buckles’ relatives who was also visiting, responded: “Hell, that ain’t no stork! That’s a duck! The stork’s done worn its legs off!” So, I came into the world with laughter echoing on Carolina Hill.
—from ‘The Flavour of Home: A Southern Appalachian Family Remembers’ by Earlene Rather O’Dell

Earlene O’Dell, born in Bristol, TN, certainly wasn’t the first person in Appalachia to be exposed to the idea that the stork delivers babies. This myth can be found widely throughout US culture. In O’Dell’s case, it’s entirely possible that she could have encountered North America’s only native stork, the wood stork, as a child. The wood stork has a post-breeding summer range that extends from its Gulf Coast wetlands nest areas north to Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina.

But the physical presence of wood storks hardly explains why ‘stork stories’ are so prevalent in areas of the US where wood storks never venture. The folk tales and beliefs that Appalachia’s German immigrants brought to their new home are a better place to look. The stork’s association with babies seems to have originated in northern Germany centuries ago.

In that country, white storks are known as “Adebar” which translates as “luck-bringer.” And apparently seed bringer, as well; even today pregnant German women are said to have been ‘bitten by the stork.’

Storks nesting on one’s roof means good luck generally, and especially in the form of family happiness. The birds were actively encouraged to nest there. German nursery stories are full of references to the stork delivering babies down a chimney. By contrast, in rural Denmark, it means bad luck if a stork builds a nest on your roof; someone in the house will die before the end of the year.

stork delivering babies, Germany 1890sOne popular German stork tale revolves around the folk legend that the souls of unborn children live in watery areas such as marshes, wells, springs and ponds. Since storks visit such habitats frequently, they were believed to fetch babies’ souls and deliver them to their parents.

White storks are highly migratory, leaving Europe for Africa in the fall. They return to central and northern Europe in late March or early April, and hence are regarded as a herald of spring.

They arrive just about nine months after Midsummer’s Day, June 21, the summer solstice and the longest day of the year. This was a major festival in pagan Europe, a time for weddings and merrymaking well lubricated by fermented beverages.

(After the arrival of Christianity the feast continued to be celebrated as Saint John’s Day; the modern association of June with weddings may also be related to this festival.) The return of storks just as the progeny resulting from summer revels put in their appearance would not have gone unnoted.

Furthermore, storks are monogamous, tend to return to and raise their annual offspring in the same nests, and seem to attach themselves to the same houses or villages year after year.

No surprise, then, that they’ve come to symbolize traditional human ideals of home, family, fertility, faithfulness and constancy.

Sources: The Flavour of Home: A Southern Appalachian Family Remembers, by Earlene Rather O’Dell, The Overmountain Press, 2000
Beacham’s Guide to the Endangered Species of North America, by Walton Beacham et al., Thomson Gale, 2000
www.cafebabel.com/eng/article/24532/bun-in-the-oven.html
www.straightdope.com/columns/read/2144/why-are-storks-associated-with-babies
www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=stork

stork+myth Earlene+Rather+O’Dell.+Bristol+TN appalachia appalachia+history appalachian+history

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‘Folks Are Talking’ CD set releases

Posted by Dave Tabler | January 24, 2012

Call him the Studs Terkel of Bluefield, WV and its environs. In the 1970s Garret Mathews, a columnist for that town’s ‘Daily Telegraph’ newspaper, traveled back into the surrounding hollows with photographer Wade Sprees to interview the locals about their lives. He’s gathered 28 of his columns and narrates them on a newly released 2-CD set ‘Folks are Talking.’

The men and women Mathews interviews are not rich or famous, but in the aggregate their stories paint a colorful portrait of mid-20th century central Appalachian culture. “You just don’t find these folks any more,” Mathews says. “What they shared with me, I want to share with future generations.”

Mathews doesn’t presume to sum up his profiles at the end of the CD. He’s been judicious enough to offer a broad cross-section of characters and, by that method, lets listeners draw their own summary of what these stories mean.

Like the prize winning Chicago journalist Studs Terkel, Mathews usually keeps himself in the background and simply lets the men and women he profiles tell their own tales. The opening piece, “Ride ‘em Cowboy,” illustrates this approach. Mathews first introduces us to Edgar Shue, a retired coal miner from Hillchester Mountain, VA, then lets him loose. Shue is a diehard fan of cowboy matinee idol Tom Mix and has a collection of 350 Mix movie posters that he proudly displays in his cramped cabin. “Some of these posters are worth more than $150, but I’ll never sell,” he tells Mathews. “Then I wouldn’t be able to look at them.”

Mathews has a fine ear for the humorous note in a tale. He wraps up the “Ride ‘em Cowboy” story with a vignette of Shue going to extraordinary lengths to get a rare Mix poster. In 1927 Shue is riding a train home from the mine at workday’s end. Trains then averaged about 14 mph, slow enough that when Shue sees a highly desirable Mix poster up ahead on a telephone pole next to the train track, he decides he’ll have enough time to hop off the train, grab the poster, and then hop back on.

He miscalculates how difficult it will be to yank the poster off the pole, but never mind. You can almost hear him chuckling with satisfaction as he tells Mathews that yes, he did in fact get the poster, even though he ended up having to run at top speed for a mile to catch up with the train.

In 1972, Garret Mathews left his hometown of Abingdon, Va., for the 80-mile drive to his first newspaper job in Bluefield, W. Va. He was greener than the keys on the manual typewriters.

In 1972, Garret Mathews left his hometown of Abingdon, Va., for the 80-mile drive to his first newspaper job in Bluefield, W. Va. He was greener than the keys on the manual typewriters.

Every so often Mathews appears as a bit actor in the stories. In “The High Water of 1977,” for example, he gets unexpectedly involved in a pregnancy crisis. Brenda Mullins of Bartley, VA had planned to have a friend drive her to the Welch, WV hospital, 30 minutes away, where she expected to deliver her baby.

At the last minute the friend called to say the car had broken down and he couldn’t come through. Furthermore, on that April 7 day, the Levisa River was swollen from two days of fierce rain and many of the roads were washed out. Desperate to get to the hospital safely, Mullins ended up calling the Big Creek Rescue Squad for help.

That particular day Garret Mathews was riding shotgun with the squad on their rounds. He stays in the front of the vehicle monitoring the CB while the EMT attends to Mullins. As the ambulance nears the top of Coalwood Mountain, Mullins can’t hold back the baby any longer. The driver pulls the ambulance to the side of the road and everyone is called to the back to help in the procedure. After witnessing the (successful!) delivery, the inexperienced Mathews is startled by all the blood involved. “I ran back to my post, sure I would never have children!”

Garret Mathews has a clear voice and a lilting delivery in this recording. Audio engineer Eric Gettings has captured a clean sound, and frames the readings with such old-time classic tunes as “Wayfaring Stranger” and “Shady Grove,” played acoustically by MaryAnne Mathews and 4 additional musicians. Mrs. Mathews contributes one original song to the collection: “Mountaineers Will Always Be Free.”

My only disappointment with ‘Folks are Talking’ is that Garret Mathews didn’t utilize a tape recorder to give us access to the voices of his subjects. It’s a niggling point, though, since this writer wields a fine storytelling sensibility.

The double CD costs $17 plus $3 shipping. Checks should be sent to “Folks Are Talking,” c/o Garret Mathews, 7954 Elna Kay Drive, Evansville, Indiana 47715. For more information, see www.folksaretalking.com

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