The ship’s rise was carrying her right into the squall

Posted by Dave Tabler | September 2, 2015

At 3 A.M. a storm began to brew in the northwest, and a few minutes later Commander Zachary Lansdowne, the skipper of the dirigible USS Shenandoah, was back in the control car. The Shenandoah was making little progress against a strong head wind. Lansdowne ordered the man at the elevator controls to bring the ship down to 2,000 feet, in an effort to find a hole in the wall of wind. It was useless.

For an hour and a half the slender airship struggled westward, drifting first to port, then to starboard. At a few minutes after 5 A.M., E. P. Alien, the elevatorman, turned to Lansdowne. “Captain,” he said, a slight undertone of nervousness in his voice, “the ship has started to rise.”

“Check her,” said Lansdowne.

Alien turned the big elevator wheel clockwise to drive the ship down. It was obvious that the Shenandoah was not responding to the controls. Sweat covered Alien’s forehead. “She’s rising two meters per second. I can’t check her, sir.”

Lansdowne ordered engines 4 and 5 speeded up. But despite the increased power, the ship continued to rise.

“I can’t hold her down,” said Alien. There was a note of panic in his voice now. He started to pull the wheel even farther over.

Lansdowne stopped him. “Don’t exceed that angle,” he said in a calm, confident voice that reassured everyone in the cabin. “We don’t want to go into a stall.” He ordered Rudderman Ralph Joffray to change his course to the south.

Joffray tugged his wheel counterclockwise. He had to put his whole body into the effort. “Hard over, sir,” he grunted, “and she won’t take it.”

“I’ve got the flippers down and she won’t check,” said Alien, his voice rising again.

“Don’t worry,” said Lansdowne, as if there were nothing to fear.

In spite of rudders, elevators, and motors, the ship continued to shoot up, tail elevated about fifteen degrees, and to head relentlessly westward, directly into the storm. The dirigible was rolling now like a raft in the sea.

The situation was more serious than the Shenandoah’s crew, at least for the moment, suspected. Down on the ground, in a little Ohio town called Caldwell, a man awakened when the wind slammed the furniture around on his front porch. He went outside, looked up at the sky, and spotted the giant airship. Directly above it was a dark cloud that seemed to be in a great turmoil. It looked to him, he later told friends, “as though two storms had gone together.” And in Ava a woman, seeing the same cloud, called her husband out into the yard. “Come out and see the boiling cloud!” she cried.

What they saw was a line squall gathering directly above the ship. Formed by a clash of opposing winds—one moist and warm, the other dry and cold—such a squall was capable of seizing the Shenandoah, twisting her in different directions, and wringing out her light metal frame. The ship’s rise was carrying her right into the squall.

wreck of the USS Shenandoah in 1925CLICK PHOTO TO SEE MORE DETAIL. The Navy dirigible USS Shenandoah left Lakehurst, NJ, on September 2, 1925, at approximately 4:00 P.M., headed for St. Louis and Detroit. Lieutenant Commander Zachery Lansdowne was in charge, with approximately 36 men on board.

They were traveling over southeastern Ohio when they flew into a severe electrical storm, at approximately 4:00 A.M. The crew changed course almost a dozen times — moving between altitudes of 1,800 and 7,000 feet. However, the air pressure and twisting were so great that the ship broke. The control car that was attached to the underbelly of the airship fell to the ground. Fourteen people died, including Lansdowne. This panorama shows the nose, which continued its flight for 12 miles, landing in Sharon, OH.

—excerpt from ‘Death of a Dirigible,’ by John Toland, American Heritage Magazine, February 1959, Vol 10, Issue 2
full article continues here

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Giant Chro-Mo Ginger Beer, ‘the drink that everybody likes’

Posted by Dave Tabler | September 1, 2015

The following post appears on the site, run by Joseph T. Lee III. “This site is my contribution to the preservation of the local history of Southwest Virginia and the Tri-Cities area,” Lee says. “I’ve researched a mostly overlooked industry that affects our lives every day—the soda bottling industry, which I was surprised to find was quite prevalent in the Southwest Virginia area.” This profile of the Was-Cott / Tazewell Manufacturing Company is reprinted here with permission.

In the town of North Tazewell, VA sits a large white building with bricked up windows. This vacant building was once home of one of the largest carbonated beverage bottling plants in Virginia. This company was a North Tazewell landmark from 1910 until 1960.

The company’s name changed at least three times during its life, starting out as The Tazewell Manufacturing Company (1910-1922), The Was-Cott Corporation (1922-1931), and finally The Sun Rise Bottling Company from 1931 until its closing in 1960.
A Lynchburg firm known as Duguid Brothers established the original operation as a wholesale grocery store in the 1890’s, with W. A. Scott as a partner. Scott soon bought out his partners’ interest in the company.

Sometime during 1910 Scott, along with the Tazewell Manufacturing Company, created his most famous soda, Was-Cott Ginger Ale. They placed the first ad for the drink in the September 8, 1911 Clinch Valley News.
Scott continued operation of the store until a fire destroyed the grocery and its subsidiary the Tazewell Manufacturing Company on January 18, 1920.

After the fire, W. A. Scott constructed a new two story brick and concrete plant with a basement, and restarted bottling operations by April 8, 1921, with S. L. Drake returning as superintendent of the Tazewell Manufacturing Company.

Scott equipped the new plant with the most modern machinery at the time. The Was-Cott Corporation was incorporated on April, 23, 1921, with W. A. Scott as President and Treasurer, George W. St. Clair as first Vice President (both of Tazewell, VA), Hiram T. Gates, of Richmond, VA, as Second Vice President, F. H. Forbes, of North Tazewell, VA, as Secretary. Jameson George Buston is listed as a director of the company (he would become very important to the company later on).

For a long time Was-Cott Ginger Ale was distributed to the rest of the nation by train. W. A. Scott had been wise enough to site his buildings right next to the Norfolk and Western railway line. He engaged in a huge advertising campaign in 1923, which ran ads from New York City to Jacksonville, FL. Was-Cott was even distributed to a few foreign countries.

The new Was-Cott bottling plant, built in 1922.

The new Was-Cott bottling plant, built in 1922.

What really helped the brand attain its fame was the A&P grocery store chain distributing the brand in their franchises. I have seen A&P ads from various different eastern states where Was-Cott Ginger Ale holds a prominent place in their roster of ginger ales.

Was-Cott Ginger ale came in three sizes of amber paper-labeled bottles, the 7 ½ oz for five cents, the 12oz for ten cents, and the 16oz for twenty cents.

By 1928 the Was-Cott Corporation was bottling all three types of Was-Cott Ginger Ale (regular, club, and Extra Dry), Orange Crush, Lime Crush, Cherry Crush, Strawberry Crush, Mandalay Punch, Hires Root Beer, and Apple and Peach products. They were also manufacturing/distributing fountain syrups for all of these flavors.

The Was-Cott Corporation was still in operation as of 1928; however, like many businesses Was-Cott was hit hard by the Great Depression, and wound up having to liquidate. W. A. Scott started selling life and automobile insurance by June 6, 1930.

According to the trademark registration of the name ‘Sun Rise’ by the Sun Rise Bottling Company, the first date of the name’s use in commerce was September 1, 1931, with James G. Buston as proprietor. Buston succeeded in keeping the company operating, and broadened the product line to several different products.

The first was a brand known as Giant Chro-Mo Ginger Beer, which was touted in advertising as “the drink that everybody likes.” Apparently everybody didn’t like it, as the brand was gone by the 1940’s; unfortunately there isn’t much left to give us an idea of what flavor this brand was.

3/4 of a pint (12oz) 'Lucky Giant' bottle, dated 1941.

3/4 of a pint (12oz) ‘Lucky Giant’ bottle, dated 1941.

By the 1940’s new brands joined the homegrown ranks under J. G. Buston, one of which is Tazewell Orange, “A Delicious Drink,” which may have very well been inspired by Orange Crush, and is obviously a Tazewell exclusive brand.

The Sun Rise Beverages line, which most likely had been with the company from the start, was created as the flavor line for the company. The first bottles were clear with a black and orange painted-label that would later be redesigned with a rooster crowing at the sunrise.

Then there is 2 TO 1, “Two to one you’ll like, because it’s two to one in your favor,” which was another Tazewell exclusive, most likely a lemon lime type drink much like 7-UP or a grapefruit type drink like Squirt.
Lucky Giant, “A drink that tastes different because it’s made different,” was a cola that was created by the company to market as a franchise drink. I doubt it went too far, as the brand isn’t advertised after World War II.

The last of the Tazewell exclusive brands can be quite possibly described as the most promoted brand of the company aside from Was-Cott Ginger Ale itself, that being Rhythm Punch with the inspiring tagline “Tastes like grapes.” I suspect the flavor and even the name were modified from Mandalay Punch, which the company bottled in the late 1920’s.

Of course the company was still bottling Was-Cott Ginger Ale, which was now in a green painted-label bottle similar to a certain Canadian oriented ginger ale. They picked up other nationally franchised brands like Red Rock Cola, which most likely replaced Lucky Giant; Squirt, which most likely replaced 2 TO 1; and Hires Root Beer, which they had been bottling since the late 1920’s.

The Sun Rise Bottling Company was registered as a partnership on March 24, 1947 between Jameson George Buston, Earl Stanley Wallace, and John Wharton Gillespie. By October 1948 Buston had sold his interest in the company to Wallace and Gillespie.

Was-Cott Ginger Ale died off after it could no longer compete with Canada Dry, which the company picked up to replace the home brand.

It appears that Wallace and Gillespie sold the ‘Sun Rise’ trademark to Sun Rise Inc. of Marshall, MN, which would take the brand national. Eventually the brand would be bottled by Coca-Cola bottlers into the 1970’s.

An advertising thermometer from the Sun Rise Bottling Company of North Tazewell, VA.

An advertising thermometer from the Sun Rise Bottling Company of North Tazewell, VA.

Sun Rise Bottling Company itself continued to bottle Tazewell Orange, Rhythm Punch, and the other national brands till their closing sometime in 1960, when the company sold the plant to the Deskins Supermarket chain, who converted it into a warehouse.

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To understand the Parkers you have to understand their Church

Posted by Dave Tabler | August 31, 2015

The Parkers of Lawrence and Pike County Kentucky grew with a community obligated to raise up their children in the “good old fashioned way.”

Walter Parker (1911-1986) was known for his no-nonsense manner. He was a stern, strict father who demanded compliance with what he knew to be right. He’d often mete out physical punishment if a child (or grandchild) misbehaved. Some of his offspring believe he was a “mean spirited” man, others felt he did what he had to “keep everyone in line.” The truth probably lies somewhere in the middle.

Walter spent much time socializing with church members. Walter and other Brothers of the Church would meet at his home to discuss aspects of doctrine, church business, and the behavior of its members. Walter’s keen insights and witty comments of human behavior would often short-circuit growing tension between members. He was often heard telling them, and his children, they were confounded fools, admonishing them to “use their heads for something besides a hat rack.”

Walter & Eddie Parker, Raccoon KYTo understand the Parkers you have to understand their Church and its beliefs. The Old Regular Baptists were formed in 1854 to retain their “old fashioned Ways.”

Old Regular Baptists are known for their community-based support. Preachers have outside sources of income, and do not require religious education to preach. Old Regular Baptists do not separate children in Sunday schools, but include them patiently in their 3-to-4-hour long, once-a-month services (the other Sundays are days to visit other Old Regular Baptist Churches).

Old Regular Baptists literally follow Jesus’ admonitions. They continue to baptize church members in bodies of water, practice laying on of hands for the anointing of preachers, and foot washing for all members during annual communion.

Members are admonished publicly for un-Christian behavior including drunkenness, womanizing, or feuding. Through public acts of remorse, an erring Member may be “retained” or “restored” by and to the Church.

Church Minutes of the pre-Civil War era noted “disclusion” or being dismissed by the Church for various offences including lack of attendance, dancing, using foul language (usually spoken by women), beating of slaves (slaves, denoted as “Brothers” in church minutes, were also members of the white Baptist church), gambling on horseraces or elections, card-playing, gossip, and physical fights with another Church member.

Church members could, by means of a written letter of dismissal/dismission (akin to a letter of introduction), join another Old Regular Baptist Church. Each Church would, through the letter, vouch for the character of the Member, as the Brothers would jointly bear all responsibility for the behaviors of their church fellows.

Worship is conducted in plain churches. Members gather around 9:30 Sunday mornings. Services begin with hearty handshakes and a song sung a cappella by a member so moved to begin the service. The ancient hymns are sung in what is known as the lined-out manner. The member that has begun the song will, throughout the song, sing the verse before the congregation repeats the slow singing of that verse. Members are encouraged to personalize their worship through emotional, forceful singing.

Membership in an Old Regular Baptist Church required the members display public modesty, humility and strength of character. The physical rites of handshaking, baptism, feet washing and singing encouraged long-lasting friendships and emotional rites of healing among the members.

Although demanding, the church also encouraged emotional expression and offered a safe place to experience the joyful grace of living in the Spirit.


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Knoxville’s Red Summer of 1919

Posted by Dave Tabler | August 28, 2015

It wasn’t the only American city simmering with race riots in that ‘Red Summer’ of 1919. But Knoxville, TN up till that time had always prided itself as a model southern city when it came to race relations.

That civic image changed dramatically starting on August 30, when an intruder shot and killed Mrs. Bertie Lindsey, a 27 year old white woman, in her Knoxville home. Her 21 year old cousin, Ora Smyth, lay motionless in her bed. After the intruder grabbed a purse and ran away, Smyth fled next door to the house of a city policeman.

Maurice Mays' wrecked jail cell at the Knox County Jail after the ransacking.

Maurice Mays\’ wrecked jail cell at the Knox County Jail after the ransacking.

Minutes later, several policeman rushed to the scene of the crime, where thirty or forty people had already congregated. One of the patrolmen, Andy White, immediately thought of Maurice Mays. More than once others heard White castigate Mays for interacting with white women.

Mays was a well-known figure in local politicking circles. He was a mulatto who liked to try his hand at being deputy sheriff from time to time. Some knew him as an exceptional braggart.

Often at the center of controversy, the striking, eloquent, and married 31 year old Mays attracted numerous women, both black and white. He owned a café and dance hall in Knoxville’s red light district frequented by both races. Mays, the illegitimate son of the Democratic white mayor John E. McMillan and his mulatto maid Ella Walker, delivered the black vote to McMillan. McMillan had become mayor in 1915 and faced re-election soon. In fact, Mays handed out blank poll tax receipts for McMillan on August 29.

White and two other policemen were ordered to arrest Mays. They arrived at his house at 3:30 a.m. on August 30, discovered him sleeping, and searched the premises for evidence. In his dresser they found a revolver, which the three lawmen claimed had recently been discharged. Both Mays’ foster father and the black driver of the patrol wagon denied this claim, however.

Moreover, although muddy tracks led away from the crime scene, Mays’ clothes, shoes, and carpet were clean and dry. Nevertheless, White arrested Mays and took him to the crime scene for Ora Smyth to identify, which she promptly did after barely glancing at him.

By 8:00 a.m the following morning a sizeable mob had assembled around the Knox County jailhouse. Sheriff W. T. Cate sent Mays, in shackles, to the county jail. In the early afternoon, the Knoxville Sentinel circulated lurid front page articles describing the crime and arrest. Authorities decided Mays would be safer elsewhere, and this time removed him, dressed as a woman to conceal his identity, to Chattanooga.

By 6:00 p.m. about 500 people had surrounded the Knox County jail, demanding Mays. They stormed it just before sundown, throwing rocks and shooting their way in. During the ensuing melee, no black prisoners were disturbed, but 16 white inmates, including convicted murderers, were freed, the liquor storage room was pillaged, and the jail demolished.

Unsatisfied and boozy, the mob staggered over to Vine and Central, the hub of the black part of town, where it was rumored that armed blacks were gathering. On their way, the whites broke into several businesses, mainly to grab up firearms. Many of the prison guards joined the frenzy. Guardsmen of the Tennessee Fourth Infantry were sent to the scene, but shooting nonetheless broke out, with soldiers and white rioters firing into occupied buildings. The buildings fired back.

When the dust settled the following day, 36 whites were arrested, but no convictions were ever recorded. Some whites later boasted of “mowing niggers down like grass,” and stories continue to be told of bodies dumped into the Tennessee River. Even respected African American educator and leader Charles Cansler later admitted that there were many deaths “on both sides.” The Chicago Defender reported that perhaps over 1,500 blacks fled the city until additional guardsmen eventually restored a semblance of order.

What precipitated all this? Knoxville at the time seemed to residents to be an unlikely candidate for racial violence. Many Knoxville blacks exercised their right to vote, held public office, sat on juries, and served on the police force.

The Knoxville College, one of the first black schools established after the Civil War, the East Tennessee News, the area’s biggest black newspaper, and a local chapter of the NAACP all pointed to the growing role of African Americans in the community.

At the same time, rural whites who had migrated from the mountain hinterlands had had a hard time adjusting to the city’s regimented way of life. In industries such as the Knoxville Iron Company and the Southern Railway, they had been forced into proximity with blacks, whom they already loathed. Residential segregation, an accepted feature of American urban life, had been breaking down under the pressure of black population growth.

The early years of the 20th century had been anxious economic times for Knoxville. Many commercial and industrial firms, such as the Knoxville Woolen Mills, had been forced to close because of competition with manufacturers elsewhere in the country, or because of poor management. The closings, and the fact that the city’s working age population had grown faster than the number of jobs, had caused a great deal of anxiety, frustration and anger. The stage was set, awaiting only a trigger occurrence to give vent to these built up resentments.

Mays returned to Knoxville under tight security on September 25, and his trial began a few days later. The all-white jury found him guilty after only 18 minutes of deliberation. Two weeks later, the judge imposed the death penalty. However, the sentence was overturned on appeal because of a judicial error. In a second trial, Mays received the same sentence.

On March 15, 1922, as he continued to proclaim his innocence, Maurice Mays died in the electric chair.


Knoxville, Tennessee: a Mountain City in the New South, by William Bruce Wheeler, Michael J. McDonald
Encyclopedia of American Race Riots, by Walter C. Rucker, James N. Upton

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On the hottest day you can imagine

Posted by Dave Tabler | August 27, 2015

The first time I ever visited Georgia was in Habersham County. Uncle John and Aunt Irene had a ridge farm in the Georgia mountains. You may never have seen a ridge farm or if you did you may not have realized how they farm the ridges. You can’t use a tractor. It would roll over on you the first time you tried to turn a row. Folks use mules for the ploughing, planting, weeding and harvesting.

Not my Uncle John, he was a gentleman farmer. He raised razorback hogs, a mountain species of the wild piney wood rooters. The mountain variety have long back legs and long ear lobes with holes in the bottom of the ear lobes. The first time I saw one I thought they wore ear bobs in their ear holes. They are ugly. Their heads look like their necks had barfed. One fell into the pond up in front of the farm house. They had that 550-pound hog out of the water in about five minutes. Aunt Irene told me they had to scum ugly off that pond for a year.

My Uncle John raised that species of mountain, razorback hogs, because of the long back legs. The hogs could root right up the side of a ridge turn around, tuck them long back legs into their ear holes and slide right back down the root path. Then they would turn right around and root their way back up the ridge.

When it was time to plant, Uncle John tied little disks on the hogs’ tails. Disks look like Frisbees and they break up clods of fresh turned dirt. Uncle John would throw table scraps out over the ridge and at dusk turn the hogs loose. By morning the hogs would have rooted and disked the whole side of the ridge. Uncle John would sit on his rocking chair on his back porch with a bag of seed grain and his sling shot and plant the side of the ridge.

When the harvest was ready all he had to do was hit the side of the ridge with a two-by-four piece of wood, wham bam! All the vegetables would roll down off the ridge to the catch fence. I mean that does make farming a whole lot easier.

Uncle John never had to worry about drought and lack of rain like other farmers did. Across the top of the ridge he would always plant three rows of onions and potatoes mixed together. He surely was a smart farmer to have worked this out. You see if you mix the onions and potatoes together at the top of the ridge the onions would make the tater eyes weep and keep the whole side of the ridge irrigated.

The only mistake Uncle John ever made was the summer he planted some of those hot, hot, hot Mexican jalapeno peppers along the catch fence. When those fiery, hot peppers got ripe, they put off an incredible amount of seething heat that just rolled up the side of the ridge. Well that summer, so happened to be a summer so hot that I’ve watched stumps in the pasture tear themselves out of the ground and on their roots crawl underneath the trees to cool off. I have even seen the shade in the middle of the day creep under the trees to cool off. Hot and Dry!

We had the Health Department out to spray the fish in the cat fish pond for ticks. The fish would come out of the pond around noon each day and swim around in the dust to keep away from the boiling water.

Well to make a long story short let me tell you what happened. I know you may not believe this but I do not have any reason to lie to you. Oh I might tell you something seven or eight different ways but I wouldn’t lie. On the hottest day you could imagine coupled with the scorching heat waves coming off those Jalapeno peppers and rolling up the ridge a 465 pound hog got into the middle of the ridge field and flat out melted! That’s a fact. Though I admit some might tend to argue but I was there and I seen it for myself.

Chuck Larkin (1931-2003), self-proclaimed bluegrass storyteller, folk singer, humorist and speaker, was a featured teller at The National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, TN and was a charter member of the Southern Order of Storytellers.


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