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Vol. Ill, No. 3

March/April, 1977

Throughout our nation Christian people of all faiths have assembled to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus the Christ from the dead. Some are on quiet hillsides awaiting the dawn for a sunrise service. Others gather with friends and kinfolk in simple chaples in backwoods America; while others sing with joy in the great liturgical ceremonies of a stately cathedral. The setting may differ greatly but a common unity binds them all. That unity is ginuine joy that Christ is risen, that He has conquered death. Somehow we all feel a little more secure becaule of His triumph. There is growing conviction that with Him we have someone to believe in and therefore a great deal to hope for.

nation on earth, we cannot adequately heat our homes. Our schools and factories are forced to close. Gasoline rationing or a serious rise in price threatens to end the travel plans of many. Numerous places in our land face drought and food shortages. The scars of the worst winter of the century are felt by almost everyone in the Eastern section of our nation. Families are falling apart at an alarming rate. Little respect is given to the life of the unborn or of the elderly. Drugs and alcoholism threaten to sap the strength of a once strong people. For many people this litany of woe has saddened them to the extent they have lost hope, and in despair think only of themselves and how they can survive.

It is good for us all to find comfort in the Easter joy and hope, but it is equally important for us to realize that there would be no joy and hope of resurrection without the sorrow and apparent failure of Good Friday. On every count Christ had seemingly failed. He was rejected by the people, condemned by the priests and synagogue, shrugged off as crazy by his relatives, abandoned by his friends and executed by the Romans. By the logic of the world this was the end of the affair. His star had burnt brighter for a time in the Judean sky but crucifixion and burial had brought it low. There would be no tomorrow. Yet, as we all know, there was a tomorrow,

Yet Easter is a powerful remainder that, for a man who places his faith in God and the teachings of Christ there is no need to despair or panic. Christ has the answer to every problem, the healing grace for every illness. If all of us unite ourselves with the risen Christ of Easter we shall have the strength, courage and perseverance to bind up the wounds of a suffering world. We can breathe new life and hope into a disillusioned people. In a word, we can renew, the face of the earth. The people of God once turned a pagan world into a better place. Easter reminds us that God gives the grace to us all to achieve a similar result in our own time.

and history knows no greater name than that of Jesus Christ. His invitation today is as exciting as it ever was: “Come follow me for with me you can do all things.” The message of Easter has to have a special significance for us today. Our modem world has apparently failed. Bandits and fanatics take over buildings and terrify the innocent. Wars rage in various comers of the globe. In the Holy Land conflict is only a mistake away, while South Africa promises to unleash a racial blood bath that will sicken the whole world. Even here in the United States, the richest

Kentucky River Soundings Publisher.......................................... CAP

Editor.........................Carol Ann Claeys

Published monthly by Christian Appalachian Project (CAP) Entered as third NM class matter at Camp Nelson Post Office, Cam p Nelson, Kentucky 40444.

W h te r...................... Gerald J. Cashman

Subscription rate in U.S. is $'4.00 per

Design A rtist...................... Jenny Pfeifer

year. Address alljcorrespondence to Ken tucky River Soundings, Camp Nelson, Kentucky 40444.

I I I ■ HWWI Editor-in-Chief. . . . Father Ralph Beitmg

cEDITORIAL Family Reunions Recently it was my good fortune to attend a lecture conducted by Mr. Alex Hailey, the author of “Roots.” In the course of this lecture Mr. Hailey made a suggestion that I would like to comment on in this editorial. He suggested that it could do a great deal of good if each family would set aside some time each year for a family reunion. All the members of the clan could gather together to renew acquaintances and preserve some of the history that is important to them. This idea seems excellent to me for many reasons, hirst of all, there is a great need for healing in each family structure. The family also needs to become more important in the lives of each and every member of it. We have heard it a thousand times, but the reality is still true, that our society will only be as good as the individual families that make it up. Whatever can be done to strengthen any family will be a blessing to all families. By the establishment of a family reunion, each and every member of that clan will leam what is happening in the lives of all. Recalling events out of their past will bring a family closer together. It will undoubtedly bring a deeper sense of respect to every age group in that family. The old, middle-aged and the young will each have an important position, a

position that comes from the realization that they are members of one common family. Such a gathering can do a great deal to enhance the respect each member of that family has for the other and, out of that respect, will come new cooperation and a new spirit of love. Margaret Mead, one of our more prominent social writers, indicated that one of the tragedies that befall the young children of our society is that they have no grandparents. By that she meant that frequently families move, and it is quite common for the children to be a great distance from their parents. As a consequence the grandchildren rarely see their grandparents. A family reunion could, at least in part, bring an end to such a situation and add much value to the gathering. Grandparents are heros, and all society needs heros. I would like to urge all readers of the Soundings to make every effort to set up a family reunion during the course of this year. We hope, in that family reunion, the members will strive to emphasize the history of the family and have some of the older members recount things they can recall of their past. It is equally important that the younger members participate in this gathering both by listening and asking questions. In this

way the older m em bers can encourage the youngsters to carry on the traditions of the family and continue to expand the contributions that prior members of the family have made. I would like for each family having a reunion to send the information in to the Soundings. We would like to publish the list of families from the various states who are having a family reunion and the place and time where they are to be held. I think it could be a fascinating experiment in this year of 77.

cLetters to tlje ^Editor Dear Reverend Beiting: Your truly great work among the people of Appalachia has moved me greatly over the past few years; and I’d like to express to you personally my highest praise for all that you’re doing! The first real meaning of the need in this section of our country came to me ’way back in 1934, when I met the man I was later to marry, T. Kile Sharpless. He had spent a Christmas vacation or two with a good friend bringing entertainment and good cheer to the mining folks of Morgantown, W. Va. He also had spent a summer vacation driving to and from Philadelphia (home of The American Friends Service Committee) and the Appalachian area where unemployed miners had formed The M ountaineer C raftsm en’s Association and had learned to make fine, simple truly artistic furniture. It was Kile’s job to take the furniture to Philadelphia, where for many years Edith Maul was instrumental in finding buyers for it. I still have some priceless pieces of furniture made by these men, and to me it means as much as any fine “antique”. How those dining-room chairs with their split-oak woven seats have held up over the years! And a most distinctive end table carefully hand-wrought by men who had found a new and brighter vision.

These are doubtless some of the reasons I long so very much to be a part of your Project. Tme, I’m a “senior citizen”, but that in itself should not prevent me from taking an active part there on location with you and your wonderful Christian people. The inescapable fact is, however, that dream though I may, at 65 I’m seriously disabled with an incurably crooked back. A few months ago, in one of my better spells, I actually found myself laying plans to settle near or among you people and do as much as I could to bring cheer and hope to the folks of your region. Better perhaps to have dreamed the impossible dream than to have sat rocking and crocheting with never a thought beyond the nearest book or magazine or TV program. How greatly drawn I an toward making some tangible contribution, something I could give of myself. Writing the occasional check seems so--easy—. Can you think of any way I might help personally at this distance? If you can, I should be so very, very glad to hear from you! Sincerely yours, Martha Sharpless (Member, Haverford, Pa. Friends Meeting)

him he could keep this copy for his library. That’s why I want the extra copy, as I’ve kept all the Soundings since the first one and refer to them time and again. Thanks. Sincerely, John M. McKeon New Milford, CT

Kentuckians as Others Saw Them Since Kentucky was the first state to be admitted to the colonies west of the Allegheny Mountains, it was the scene of much travel and migration. Frequently people from all over the world came to America to see the west and the wilderness. And the place, of course, that they came to more often than any other was Kentucky. Many of them have left accounts of what they thought of Kentucky and the Kentuckians.

I would like to record at this time a few of the impressions left by these Dear Father Ralph, people. This impression was given to Thanks for “them thar kindly words.” us by a Captain Thomas Hamilton Enclosed is a little something. Would who came from England. He was appreciate it if you would send me an traveling down the Ohio River and extra copy of Soundings — the last one stopped at Louisville. While he was where you reminisce about your 25 there he wrote this particular passage: years as a missionary in Appalachia “The Kentuckians may be called I gave my copy to my friend, the Rev. the Irish of America. They have Bill Garder, pastor of the United all the levity of character, that Methodist Church of New Milford, a subjection of the moral to the great preacher like yourself and a fine convivial, that buoyancy of spirit, human being. My wife’s a Methodist, that jocular ferocity, that order the kids and I are Roman Catholics and both of attachment and of hatred I hope we are all real Christians — at which distinguishes the natives of least we’re working toward that end. the Emerald Isle. The Kentuckians I heard you give the homily at St. are the only Americans who can Johns and Paul in Larchmont, N.Y., understand a joke. There is a several years ago and I remember that kind of native humor about them story of the farm gal who mistook you which is very pleasant. And I for the president, which you repeated in must say that several Kentucky this last issue of Soundings. I gave this gentlemen were among the most to Rev. Bill Garder because I wanted agreeable companions with whom him to read this particular story. I I had the good fortune to become consider it a classic of its kind, and told acquainted during my tour.”

But while the good gentleman was very high in his praise of the Kentucky people, there were others who were not quite as enthusiastic about the folks that they met while on their travels through Kentucky. There was, for example, a homesick Virginian who had moved to Kentucky and was now regretting the choice he had made. One particular day, a traveller from England, a Mr. Faux, came by and the homesick gentleman declared to the visitor that this land west of the mountains was inhabited by rogues and cheats. He said that no man’s word was of any value and everyone tried to live without doing any work. The land in the west was a land of ruination both physically and morally. He said that back in Virginia it was long ago said that when a man was missing from his community, he has either gone to hell or to Kentucky. Even the Irish at times found it difficult to accept some of the customs and activities of the folk in Kentucky. One particular immigrant from Ireland, a man by the name of Timothy Flint, declared that the west, i.e. Kentucky, was populated by an influx of immoral and ignorant elements of the Eastern civilization. Another gentleman from France, Francois Michaux, estimated in 1802 that some 20,000 souls annually traveled the west Wilderness Road or floated down the Ohio River to perdition in the West. The K entuckians them selves, however, were much more generous in their praise of the state. Once a Kentuckian was asked by a stranger what kind of place this Kentucky was? And the reply the gentleman made was this: .“Stranger, there’s no place in the universal earth like ol’ Kentuck’. She whips. all out west in prettiness. You might ’bile’down creation and might not get such another state out of it like Kentuck’.” On another occasion, one of the frontier preachers was trying to excite his audience with the wonders of the Promised Land. And after some attempts to adequately describe it, he finally blurted out, “Honeys, Heaven is a Kentucky kind of place!”

Greenhouse Project The number of interesting people who make up our Appalachian area never ceases to amaze me. Just the other day I received a visit from a young man by the name of Mike Durham. It was his 19th birthday. The reason for his visit was to tell me about a project that he was presently involved with, and to see if we might be able to assist him. Mike was in the greenhouse business. He had already erected his second greenhouse and had high hopes for its future. Like almost everyone who goes into business for the first time, there was the great problem of a cash flow — how to pay for the abnormally high heating bills that come in during the most severe winter in history; how to take care of the added plants needed if you were going to be able to sell to the larger stores. These and many other very real, and yet ordinary, problems faced him as he began his new business venture. He had heard of us and wondered if we would be interested in assisting him to get this business going. As his story unfolded I became more and more enthralled with it and promised to come out and visit his operation. As you drive south out of Junction City toward Liberty, there is a little community called Moreland. Right outside Moreland proper, there was a sign beside the road with an arrow pointing to “Durham’s Greenhouses.” Leaving the main road I went back a gravel lane to where Mike lived. I found him by a row of plants trying to prepare the site for an additional shipment which he was expecting the next day. The 30 x 60 foot greenhouse was already over half full of plants. I asked Mike how he ever got started in such a way of life. He said his grandmother had a great deal to do with it. She lived on a farm in this area and used to grow irises — as many as two and three acres of them at a time. It was a hobby with her but they looked so beautiful, people came to see them and even asked for sets to take to their own

Mike Durham

homes. From her Mike acquired a great love for plants and flowers. During the years that he was in high school he took vocational agriculture and specialized in flowering plants and indoor household plants. In fact, he must have impressed his high school faculty considerably, because the day that he had come to see me he brought his former horticultural teacher. The teacher thought so highly of Mike’s ability, ambition and qualifications that he had, in his own right, loaned him money. I was to leam that Mike belonged to the Future Farmers of America and had held many offices with the local chapter in the Lincoln County area-. He had been named Statewide Farmer in their organization, an .honor only one percent of the members of the Future Farmers are able to acquire. He also won first prize for the state in growing and culture of flowering plants. In addition to this the Daughters of the American Revolution had named Mike good citizen of the year in his final year of high school. Many other

similar awards had come to him because of his abilities and his willingness to spend time working on something that was worthwhile. I was about to leave and go visit someone else when I asked Mike why he kept the seats in the van that he purchased to deliver his plants. He said “Well, I do church work in addition to the plants. I help teach young people the Bible and help them in church leadership.” He has three or four small congregations of people that he brings together in one central place. There he helps them with their scripture studies and lessons. Quite an unusual thing for a young man of 19 to do. Almost by accident he mentioned that he was also the Assistant Scout Master for a troup of boy scouts in Danville. “I never heard the dogs barking when you came in,” he said. “How did you get past them?” I said “Well, I noticed the dogs when I came in but they were so sound asleep that I simply walked right by.”

This led us to a discussion of dogs, and from that I learned he had spent five or six years training dogs. He had originally raised German Shepherds but now he was with Labradors. He had collected a considerable amount of knowledge and expertise in that field. In fact he had helped support himself through high school by raising and caring for dogs. The second greenhouse that Mike has erected is financed by a loan from the Farm er’s Hom e Administration. All in all it was a very profitable morning. When I looked into the eyes of this young man who knew what he wanted to do and had the determination to carry it out, I could not help but be encouraged by what America might be like in the near future. Here was a 19-year-old so anxious and so willing to go out and do things that were good and noble. What he was saying to those of us who were middle aged and perhaps older was, “Would you help me, would you be of assistance to me?” I really can’t see how we can refuse. Some ancient prophet once said “It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.” It would seem to me that it is infinitely better to hold out a helping hand to the young rather than to sit back and complain about how the youth never seem to amount to anything. I think Mike Durham is the kind of young man who will make this land a better place because of his presence here. I am sure some of you might want to be of help and enable us to put this program into operation. If you are, you may address your inquiries to the Soundings.

The Tollgates When one travels throughout Kentucky today, he has the wonderful opportunity of going by state, federal, or county highway, or perhaps by some modem toll system. It was not, however, always that way. When the Civil War had run its course the roads were in a shambles. The

invasion by the Confederates had turned them into almost useless tracts. This damage was nothing compared to that caused by the Union forces which were in Kentucky for three years during the War. Road beds were chewed up; the surface was destroyed. There was no conviction on the part of the people or the legislature for taxes to finance the great task of building new roads. As a consequence, toll companies came into existence. These companies built roads, charged tolls, and installed tollgates. Frequently, they took over only those roads which were the most profitable — where the greatest amount of traffic was to be found. They were not at all interested in the back roads or in the less frequented districts of a county. The toll companies were forced to charge whatever toll they thought necessary. In Kentucky this condition continued to boil and ferment in the years following the Civil War. The farmers were becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the large amount of toll that they had to pay and the poor condition that the roads were in. This sad state of affairs was brought to a head in the late 1890’s when the farmers and the people of the area began to take the law pretty much in their own hands. They became vigilantes. Of interest to us, in this section of Kentucky, was the activity that took place one night at the tollgate immediately adjacent to the famous Wemwag wooden bridge that crossed the Kentucky River at Camp Nelson. The owners of the tollgates had been warned that they were to close them down and not charge anyone tolls from that time forward. Naturally the owners were not about to listen. Finally on one evening 91 raiders galloped across the Kentucky River. Just on the other side of the Wemwag Bridge they made the tollgate keeper, a man by the name of Whittaker, take his axe and cut up his pole into a pile of stove wood. Shortly after this damage was done at the border of Garrard and Jessamine Counties, a group of 100 men stormed into Lancaster on the

night of May 29, 1898, and destroyed four tollgates that led into the town. They left instructions scribbled on some dirty, cheap school tablet paper that no more toll was to be collected. Throughout the county, other tollgate keepers were also warned by letters. Frequently^ the vigilantes would leave bunches of switches and other small debris on the porch which was an indication that they were going to bum down the place if proper attention was not paid to their warning. On one occasion, shortly after the affairs at Cam p Nelson and Lancaster, one group notified the tollgate keepers of Garrard County, Kentucky, that their days were numbered. A local detective named Welsh was advised to make his estate over to an undertaker and officials of the road were threatened with whippings. A raid over the whole county was promised. Positiveand picturesque notes gave emphasis to the warning:

NOTICE TO GATEKEEPER We ast you not to collect no more tole, you must Not collect one cent if you do we are Going to Destroy your House with fire are Denamite So you must Not collect No more tole at all. We don’t want to do this but we want a Fijee Road are agoing to have it, if we have to kill and burn up everything. Collect no more tole we mean what we say, so Fair warning to you.

These episodes took place throughput Kentucky. While we have pinpointed our attention on Camp Nelson, G arrard and Jessam ine counties in this brief little vignette, these activities of smashing up the poles, burning the tollgates, and whipping the tollgate masters went on all over the state. The legislature of Kentucky was finally moved to begin a system of public roads. And the day of the tollgate keeper and the necessity of paying for each trip over a particular road came to an end. It is an interesting part of the past that makes up our Kentucky story today.

A Concrete Floor, Please One of the gentlemen that I have enjoyed meeting and working with over the last several years is Glen Robinson. Glen makes chairs in his small shop along the Rockcastle River in Rockcastle County. It was on Thanksgiving Day three years ago that I first met him. For years I had admired the effort he was making in his rather dilapidated quarters to create jobs for himself and several of the neighboring men. Glen had just completed a concrete block building and I asked him if there was anything that we might do to be of help. I don’t think I could have surprised him more, no matter what I might have said. I told him that I was willing to lend him money and that he could pay it back through the products that he made. He was so surprised because he couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to help a complete stranger. He was further amazed that he could repay the loan in products rather than cash, and that no interest would be charged. I explained to him that our whole hope and desire was that somehow we might rekindle in the lives of many people the spirit of what had once been America: a helping hand given to someone who was anxious to receive it and use it to better himself. At that time, Glen needed several pieces of woodworking equipment in order to make chairs, so I gave him a loan. No sooner had the equipment arrived than we suffered a terrible tornado which completely leveled his building. We came back and helped him clean up the mess and rebuild the concrete block building. He has been struggling along, trying to repay the work that had been done on the building, and get a new piece of equipment. So it was enjoyable for me to go and visit with Glen once more. He hopes this summer to get out of the mess the tornado has' placed him in. I asked him what he needed more than anything else to bring about this added employment and work; he said he needed a concrete floor. He was

Glen Robinson’s current building

New building under way next door

working off a dirt floor in this building and, of course, it was totally impossible to move materials back and forth except by picking up and carrying. This was causing a great deal of work and time that he could not afford. As we both sat around his little pot-bellied stove, we calculated how much concrete it would take; how much steel would be needed; the work necessary to make the forms and pour the concrete. The amount comes to about $2,500. This would include putting some fluorescent lights in the building. At the time he only had two, but needs at least a dozen more. So much of life is exciting if we will only take time to observe it. Glen is going to try to pay back the loan, that I would like to make to him, by once again making chairs to sell. If he has no one to*assist him and has to do it all by himself, he is forced to wait long periods of time. An

ordinary man would have given up long ago, but he’s one of those special people, who keep making all efforts possible to bring about their dreams and goals. As soon as the weather breaks we’ll make preparations for the concrete to be poured. Hopefully, by the time May arrives, Glen will be using the floor and be able to increase production. Therefore, he’ll have a means of caring for himself and his family. In addition, he hopes to employ as many as five other men. You see, there’s a lot of good things going on in the Appalachian area. It is my hope that in the Soundings we may be able to feature those who have great desires to help themselves and who are not afraid to make the effort. Maybe sometime along the way, when you read this story, you might remember a concrete floor. That’s what this man needs. This is what we hope to bring to him.

Saint William’s Woodworking Shop Amid the whine of the bandsaw and the whirr of a drill, two volunteers from Villanova University sit calmly lacquering wooden crosses. We’re in the back of the Attic store in Lancaster, where the Saint William woodworking shop is in temporary quarters. Brother Ric O’Connell a volunteer from the Society of Mary is in charge, and his nine helpers are all busy, all the time. Just a few months old, the woodworking shop is now busy turning out handsome lacquered crucifixes, as well as a selection of small wooden toys to be sold at Camp Nelson this season. Eventually, the products of the woodworking shop will be marketed at art and craft shows in Kentucky and Indiana. The wood workings of other Appalachian craftsmen will also be combined with those of the Saint William shop and offered at these shows. In the future, perhaps in a year, Brother Ric hopes to be manufacturing household furniture, using local craftsmen to produce the merchandise. He also hopes to be able to provide some employment for retarded workers. For Ric O’Connell, William woodworking

the Saint shop in

Ric O’Connell (center)

Lancaster is a far cry from his birthplace at Salt Lake City. After a 6V2 year enlistment in the Army, Ric entered the restaurant business in Chicago. From there promotions took him to places like Ann Arbor and Detroit, and finally an assignment in Cincinnati. In the Queen City, Ric was to supervise the remodeling of the old Fox and Crow, and transform it into a new restaurant called Charlie’s Crab.

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During this time, Ric, who had converted to Catholicism from Mormonism, became acquainted with the activities of the Society of Mary. He joined the order as a Brother, and was soon imm ersed in vocational-technical training at Moeller High School in Cincinnati. Ric spent two years in teaching at Moeller, then, in the Summer of 1976, he brought a group of volunteers down to Kentucky to work for CAP. Ric was so taken by the opportunities he found in Appalachia that he asked for and received a place on the CAP staff. He’s been more-than-busy ever since.

Camp Nelson Reopens If you were to visit Camp Nelson today, while the first warm breaths of Spring are wafting thru the valley, you’d be overcome with the activity. The hammering and the nailing is only overshadowed by the painting and the polishing, as “the town that refused to die” gets ready for another tourist season. This season, more than any other, the Christian Appalachian Project goal of providing jobs for Appalachia is abundantly evident at Camp Nelson. The “season” begins, appropriately enough, with a parade on the weekend of April 2nd and 3rd. On Sunday, the 3rd, the vollying of muskets will echo up and down the valley again, as the first of four musket shoots is held. There will also be a talent contest that Sunday. There will also be another touch of the old times at Camp Nelson on opening weekend, as the Lexington Antique Auto Club will be putting up and down Main Street. And, on top of that, local artists will be strolling the strand offering to do your caricature. Sounds like a super weekend, and it will be.

New MenuNew Management at Camp Nelson’s “Admiral’s Table” Restaurant The ever-popular Admiral’s Table Restaurant at Camp Nelson is looking for even more popularity this season. Ifs open now with a brand new menu. Not only is the food the best you’ll find on the Kentucky River, but the prices are the most reasonable^ too. Matter of 8

fact, the Admiral’s Table menu now includes special selections for children, so you can plan a family dinner anytime. For this season, the Admiral’s Table will be serving both lunch and dinner each day except Monday. Hours will be from 11 in the morning til 9 at night.

Boone’s Campground Landing Offers More Than Just Camping One of the most scenic and beautiful campgrounds to be found anywhere in the Commonwealth of Kentucky is Camp Nelson’s Boone’s Landing. Nestled between the Kentucky River on one side, and mountainous cliff palisades on the other are 55 campsites with each one having its own electric, water, picnic table and outside grill. In addition Boone’s Landing provides campers with propane gas service, 2 bath houses, laundromat, dump station, and daily trash pick-up. All of Camp Nelson’s attractions are within easy walking distance of Boone’s Landing. If one’s desire is to go back in time to a primitive era, you will surely find the new primitive camping area to your liking. It is called Sycamore Landing and is located down river about 2 miles. For more information, contact the campground office, and say “hello” to our affable and friendly •campgrounds manager and his wife, Bill and Peggy Eades. For a complete vacation or just a nice weekend of fun and relaxation, come down and visit the “friendly folks” at Camp Nelson. P.S. Our campground manager, Bill

Eades, suggests reservations on holidays and weekends. Call (606) 8859244. Hope To See You Soon.

Dig for Treasures . . . Only $1.00 Each . . . in Camp Nelson’s Flea Market No need to bargain — everything will be priced at only $1.00 — during opening weekend at Camp Nelson’s Flea Market. Take your choice of items from vintage comic books to Depression glass bric-a-brac. Eighty booths will be set up inside the marketplace, while spaces for 300 to 400 more displays are available outdoors. Folks from Michigan, Ohio and Indiana, as well as Kentucky’s finest, will be on hand with their wares. Although the $1.00 special price will hold only for April 2 and 3, the Flea Market will be open all summer. An outstanding “find” may be waiting for serious collectors or weekend browsers this next weekend.

The Water’s Fine Entertainment at Camp Nelson’s “Re-ramped” Marina Avid . anglers and weekend watersports fans will find a lot to like in the remodeled Marina facilities at Camp Nelson. Bring your own boat for a leisurely cruise on the Kentucky River. Cam p Nelson’s newly constructed boat ramp is big enough to launch everything from a sunfish to a houseboat. A one-stop headquarters for fishermen, the Marina will provide you with everything but luck. Rent your fishing boat, stock up on live bait, and even purchase a fishing license for the season. Pontoon boats are also available for rent to those who just want to paddle around and enjoy the scenery.

Doyle Hale If one travels south out of Mount Vernon, turns off the main road at Burr, and heads down Brush Creek towards Orlando, he would come eventually to a gravel road leading to a little house on a hill. Here is the home of Mr. and Mrs. Doyle Hale. It was a couple of years ago that I first met Doyle, a fine gentleman in every sense of the word. On the occasion of our meeting he had an idea about a piece of equipment that would simplify the making of butter chums. These would be replicas of the old fashioned chum that the early pioneers used to make butter. The equipment that he wanted was going to run into the hundreds of dollars, and he needed some help at that time in order to acquire it. Doyle’s workshop was in a little garage beside his house. Almost all of the tools and equipment he had either designed or modified himself. The reason I looked Doyle up again was that I hadn’t seen him for over a year and was wondering how he was getting along. When I arrived at his house, he showed me his wood carvings. He was taking the scrap pieces of cedar left over from the chum operation and, by means of a bandsaw and drill, blocking them out for animals such as horses, dogs, rabbits, and birds. He than lined up a number of people out in the county who were good at carving. He took them a sample product as well as the blocked out item and said, “Now I want you to carve this so that it will look like the original.” Before long he had three or four different people throughout the county in which he lived who were carving animals and marketing them in various outlets throughout the state and beyond. In addition to that, he had also expanded the chum operation. Now there were more people involved in the manufacturing of the wood chums than ever before. Next he showed me some beautiful pieces of ceramics. He had set up a kiln to fire them and made several molds

Doyle Hale

himself. By purchasing additional molds he was now setting up several people in the ceramic business. I just sat back and said to him, “Doyle, what in the world are you up xto? You know, when I first met you, you were only working for yourself, but now you’re out trying to help other people get set on their jobs. What in the world possessed you to do that?” He answered, “Well, you remember how you helped me to get that piece of equipment. I thought that maybe the best way I could ever repay you for what you’ve done was to help somebody, else. So thafs how I happened to get into the business of setting up these other people in their small operations.” I thought to myself, “Who said there’s no life left in Appalachia? Who said that we could not come up with some spirit of real cooperation and common purpose.”

I visited in his different workshops for the remainder of that afternoon. I was so greatly impressed by the way he had designed the various woodworking machines to simplify the operation of the chum that I could hardly believe my eyes. I said, “Doyle, it would be a tragedy if this knowledge and these ingenious ideas were ever lost. We have to, in some way, insure their preservation.” For me all of this is kind of exciting. I can come into the Appalachian area and, even though I have lived here for 27 years, I’m still in many ways not native to this particular area of Kentucky. I signify a religion that is certainly not that of any considerable amount of the people of the area. Yet I can be so perfectly at home with the gentleman who has lived his whole life here and who is anxious to be of service to others. If we can cooperate, work together and begin to improve things, I just don’t know why we should despair or lack hope for the future.

w m BSK K BK U

m^riyecipes Kentucky Hickory-Nut Cake

of the Sunshine Center, a child development center operated by CAP in Lancaster, Kentucky. Cooking has been a favorite pastime for both girls, and their work in Kentucky for the last several years has furnished them the opportunity to collect many fine old Kentucky recipes.

1 cup butter 2 cups sugar Vi cup milk lA teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons baking pow der 3 cups sifted flour 8 egg whites, unbeaten 1 cup hickory nuts 1 tablespoon flour 1 teaspoon vanilla Preheat oven to 350°. Cream butter well. Add sugar gradually, beating after each addition. Add milk Sift salt and baking powder with flour. Add small amounts to butter mixture, then beat in two egg whites. Alternate remaining flour with egg whites, adding one at a time and beating well after each addition. D ust nutm eats with a tablespoon of flour and mix well into batter with the vanilla Pour batter into a greased and floured tube pan. Bake for 50 minutes at 350°. Cool in pan and turn out on a clean rack. You may want to dust lightly with confectioner’s sugar. From the HISTORIC CAMP NELSON COOKBOOK, on sale in the TRADING POST, directly across the street from THE ADMIRAL’S TABLE RESTAURANT.

Cook Book A new cook book, featuring Kentucky recipes both old and new, has just been completed under CAP direction. The book will be titled “Camp Nelson Recipes.” Miss Katie Kelly, a CAP volunteer from Massachusetts, has been in overall charge of preparation and layout for the cook book. Additional help was given by Miss Marilyn Stefanski, another CAP volunteer. Both Miss Kelly and Miss Stefanski are teachers and directors

these personal visits, what comes from these men and women that we meet, is an excitement about the future and a deep appreciation of the past. These people are anxious to achieve a better way of life. I hope that by reading the Soundings you might see what the poorest part of America is doing in many ways. It should be an encouragement to the rest of America to do equally as well. In future issues of the Soundings we will keep you informed of how Doyle Hale and all the other folks of our area are progressing. We will also let you know how we here at CAP are progressing in our efforts to bring about a better future through self-help programs

Katie Kelly

The name Camp Nelson has been selected for the title of the book because of its historic place in the Kentucky story. No less a chef than Daniel Boone began the cooking tradition at Camp Nelson during his stay there in the winter of 1770. For over two centuries pioneers, statesmen and travelers from all parts of the world have enjoyed the cooking at historic Camp Nelson. Whether you prefer the ordinary, the fancy or the gourmet, “Camp Nelson Recipes” will be a welcome addition to your dining pleasure. The book will be available for sale by writing to the Soundings or stopping at Camp Nelson. Additional information on the cook book will be contained in the next issue of the Soundings.

A View of the Soundings I don’t know about you people who read these Soundings, but to me it’s more than simply a newsletter. It’s more than a means of letting you know what we’re doing. To me, the Soundings is probing the depth of the people: their dreams, their ambitions, their hopes. What comes from all

Works of Art Take Shape While You Watch Camp Nelson’s Craftsmen at Work Your most-admired “masterpieces” may well be carefully and lovingly crafted on a warm afternoon at Kentucky’s Camp Nelson. Watch our talented craftsmen at work, then sample their wide range of finished products. From the woodcrafters, you may select items from bookends to small furniture, while the potter will turn jugs, bowls and flower pots to your pleasure. Be sure to stop by the blacksmith and leather shops, too Finish your craft tour with a softtoned Kentucky landscape or a portrait of the youngsters by our pastel artist. For yourself or as gifts, Camp Nelson’s selection of hand-crafted pieces will be hard to match.

Leather Craft Coming to Camp Nelson One of the more interesting new businesses at Camp Nelson this season will be the Four Winds Leather Company. Presided over by Mike Lewis, FWLC will feature hand tooled leather items, many of which you can watch Mike make while you’re in his shop. Mike, who has ten years experience in the leather-making trade, will be producing such items as purses, hats, belts, cigarette cases, billfolds, visors, and many other items. And he will feature a full range of custom products, made to your specifications. The Four Winds Leather Company is located in the first shop of the Craft Shop Complex.

Now Playing at the Rivertown Forge: Preston Bates, The Blacksmith As a part of its return to the world of the craftsman, Camp Nelson will be featuring a very talented blacksmith named Preston Bates. Bom in Atlanta, Preston has served his apprenticeships under some of the finest blacksmiths in the United States. He studied the art of iron fence and gate building under Francis Whittier in Colorado. And he also studied at Turley Forge at Sante Fe, New Mexico, where one of the few artistic blacksmith schools is located. Som e of Prestort’s specialties available this season will be handmade hunting knives, ornamental brackets for hanging plants and signs, candle holders in many styles, fireplace tools, cooking utensils, and more. Preston will also accept orders for custom iron work of all types.

The Rivertown Forge is located in the Log Cabin on Main Street in Camp Nelson. The Forge will be open Tuesdays thru Sundays.

A Time To Remember Over the years, my experience in Eastern Kentucky has brought me in contact with people of all kinds. Many times the stories are of people whom I have helped, people who have responded well, and people who have had nothing but ordinary difficulties. But at time you meet people who have problems or difficulties of their own making. They, too, are my friends and they also are a wonderful part of the time I remember. One man who comes to my mind is from the Crab Orchard area of Lincoln County. It seems that is an effort to support his large family of 11 children he had started reworking com and putting it into a liquid form. Many of the people in his area felt that he had discovered a wonderful recipe and they would purchase this liquified com from him. It so happened one of his customers was connected with the law, and before long my friend found himself on trial for bootlegging. The judge looked at him very severely and asked him how he pleaded. He said, “I reckon that I plead guilty.” The judge said to him “Now you realize that I am going to have to send you to jail, probably for a long time.” The man looked back at the judge and said, “Your honor, I reckon you won’t be sending me to jail.”

The judge asked, “What makes you think I won’t?” He said “You’re too intelligent a gentleman.” The judge asked, “What has being intelligent got to do with the situation that is right here at hand?” The man replied, “Now you go ahead and put me in jail and you’re going to have to feed me, and it’s going to cost you a bunch of money. Then what’s going to happen to my wife and 11 kids? They will have to go on welfare. You’ll have to pay for them and that will cost you a- pretty bundle of money. Now you let me off with just a warning and Fm going back home and work. I’ll take care of them and me, too, and we’ll be no burden to anybody. I’ll tell you I ain’t going to do that bootlegging anymore. You give me this chance and I won’t do it again. I think you’re just too smart a man to let all of this happen.” Well, in the mountains of Kentucky we still have some degree of personal justice. The judge looked at him, shook his head in disbelief, said, “I reckon I am smart enough to see what you’re saying.” My old friend got off with a suspended sentence and had to report in at regular intervals. Happily for him and the judge both, I suppose, he stayed faithful to his promise of not brewing up any more of that com into his liquid recipe. Sometimes you just have to think of the problem in a different way. Telling the judge he was too intelligent a man to send the poor fellow to jail did the trick. You can’t tell me that our folks in Eastern Kentucky aren’t smarter than most people give us credit for being.

Mountain Poet In this issue of the Soundings we are publishing our second poem by Ralph Pennington. The title of the poem is “A Big Fish Story,” and in it he traces the adventures of Jonah and draws an interesting conclusion for the youth of today. Ralph Pennington is quite an interesting man. On a sunny winter day I drove to Jackson County to meet him. He lives in a wooden frame house just beyond the general store at Green Hill. As I walked thru the yard and started up the steps to the porch I was greeted by Billy and Bobby, his two hound dogs. They turned out to be far more friendly than their bark at first promised. Ralph met me at the door and invited me and Father Joe Saulino, who accompanied me, inside. Because of the terrible severity of the winter, he and his wife had been living in the one room where they had a fireplace. The house was poor and the room was crowded, but friendship and good cheer filled every corner of the place. Both Ralph and his wife, Lizzie; ^ were the soul of hospitality. You would have thought we were good friends of long standing. Pictures of the family were passed around, and the family Bible was brought from its place of honor for us to see. The notebook containing Ralph’s poems was found and for nearly a half hour he read from the book, giving the poems an added jest. Ralph has been writing poems since he was 15, when he exaggerated his age and entered the army during World War I. A little over a year ago Ralph and Lizzie lost nearly everything they owned when their house burned down. All of his poems went up in the flames. His present notebooks contain only a few of the poems he remembers, Ralph has visited many places in the world because of his services in both World Wars, and he has also traveled extensively in the United States.

Lizzie and Ralph Pennington

Finding himself a widower for a second time when he was 46 years old, Ralph courted a widow from Bond in Jackson County. On the second date he told her, “Lizzie, I am a man of few words and time is running short. I reckon I will marry you before the week is over.” Lizzie agreed, and 29 years later she says they’re still “plumb happy.”

help the poor at Annville Institute, a school operated by the Dutch Reformed Church. Lizzie insisted that we each take a jar of her homemade jelly home with us. While the jelly was mighty fine, the warm open friendliness of two wonderful people was by far the most cherished memory of that sunny winter day.

Before we left, we had to sign our names on a long paper poster hanging on the wall. Many visitors from other parts of the country had put down their signatures ahead of us. The Penningtons had befriended many young people who came to

Carry Nation Carry was bom near the present community of Bryantville in Garrard County, very close to Camp Nelson on the Kentucky River. She would become famous in later life as the prohibitionist and the “darling” of the women’s liberation movement. In her early years, the pattern for her future conduct was laid out. She fell in love and married a gentleman by the name of Charles Goyd. He was a doctor and she, at 21, was madly in love with him. The only problem was that Dr. Goyd was madly in love with liquor. He was drunk on the day of their marriage, and apparently remained in that state during the course of their married life. It was undoubtedly from this experience that Carry absorbed a great deal of hatred for alcohol. Dr. Goyd not only became intoxicated, but he also became fearful of going home. And since he belonged to the Masonic Lodge, he would go to the Lodge for shelter and protection when Carry came looking for him. In those days, the Masonic Lodge would not allow women to enter into its sacred halls, and Carry would parade up and down outside the Masonic Hall shouting slanders against whisky and quoting Bible verses. It is rumored that some of the responses that came from the windows of the hall were not entirely of a biblical nature After 17 months of marriage, Carry had had enough. She separated from the doctor, and within a few months he died. Carry then developed mental illness, a condition prevalent in her own family background. Carry’s mother also had been insane, fancying herself to be Queen Victoria and demanding of her family all the courtesies befitting a royal personage. Her children could speak to her only by appointment and were required to bow in her presence. Some 10 years after the death of her first husband, Carry married a lawyer and a minister of the Christian Church named David A. Nation. They lived in the little town of Medicine Lodge, Kansas. The lawyer was some 19 years older than Carry and depended upon her for support and

on Wichita, and finally the whole world. In 1901 she began to need a more substantial ally in her fight against drink and the saloons, so she enlisted the aid of the “hatchet.” Before long this became the symbol of her work. She was, of course, invited by women from all over the country to preach in their towns on the evils of drink' and to bring her trusty “hatchet” along. Her motto during the course of these speaking tours was “SMASH, WOMEN, SMASH!” She would take her speaking not merely into the halls of the various women’s clubs and into the streets and saloons, but she even went overseas. England and Scotland saw her invade their shores. Carry even went on theatrical tours. She rewrote the drama “Ten Nights in a Barroom” and retitled it “Hatchetation.”

encouragement. The marriage was doomed to failure — nothing seemed to go right from the very beginning. Carry did not find the support and affection she had hoped for, and apparently she turned to the Bible as the source of her strength. She would use it to rail against the evils of drink, tobacco, cigars and cigarettes, fancy dresses and stylish millinery. She also would find great problems with the Masonic Lodge, the Republican Party, and the Presidents of the U.S.A. (whoever they happened to be at the time). With Bible in hand, Carry began to walk up and down the main street of Medicine Lodge reading and telling the people of the evils of drinking. She was now 53 years old. The year was 1899 and, together with a neighbor, she made her first women’s march through the town. She destroyed every saloon and drinking place' there. The next day she went to the nearby town of Kiowa where she began to call down a similar disaster on that community. From there she moved on out into Dixon County, Kansas. Then she went took

Frequently the saloon-keepers bore all this with patient resignation* allowing her to do all the damage that she could, but at times this was not true. On at least one occasion gangs attacked her on the street, beating her with whips and sticks, and left her bleeding in a gutter. They took some seltzer bottles from the saloon and squirted her down thoroughly. Some of the bung stoppers were used to soften up her cranium and then she was baptized with buckets of water and sometimes beer. One saloon keeper broke a chair over her head. When she tried to pull a cigar out of a bus driver's mouth to throw it away, he picked up Carry threw her off the bus. Finally, she moved to the small comm unity of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, and there on January 13, 1911, she died. Carry Nation once described herself as a bulldog. She said “I am a bulldog, running at the feet of Jesus, barking at what he doesn’t like.” She was an unusual woman motivated undoubtedly by pure intentions but suffering from a deep dark mental sickness that afflicted much of her family. She became world famous as a prohibitionist and mover for women’s rights. It all goes to show that not all the rough-and-tough pioneers in the Kentucky story were men.

The Greatest Fish Story Ever Told

Boys, be still and listen to me, and I’ll tell you a story as true as can be; Ifs better than the story of Daniel or Ruth, And, tho, it is fishy, ifs every bit true. A part of this story is awfully sad, Ifs about a big city that went to the bad. When the Lord saw the people with such wicked ways, He said, “I can’t stand them but forty more days.” So He said to Jonah, “You go and cry To that wicked city and tell them that I Give them forty more days to get humbled down. And if they don’t do it, I tear up the town.” When he heard the Lord speaking, Old Jonah says he, “Them Ninevah people are nothing to me. I am a true hard-shell Baptist, And then I’m against foreign missions, you see.” So he went down to Joppa, and there in great haste, He boarded a ship for a different place. The Lord looked down on that ship and says He, “Old Jonah’s a-fixin’ to run off from Me.” So He set the wind blowing with squeaks and squeals, And the sea it got rowdy and kicked up its heels. Old Jonah confessed it was caused by his sins, So the crew threw him off and the Whale took him in. The Whale said to Jonah, “Old fellow, don’t fret. I’m sent down here to take you in out of the wet. You’re going to be punished right much for your sins.” Then he opened his big mouth and poor Jonah went in. It was the funniest sight, boys, you ever had seen, To see Jonah ride off in his new submarine.

Then the sinners of Ninevah did not repent, For the message of warning to them was mis-sent. On a bed of green seaweed, the Whale tried to rest, But he got mighty restless and sorely afraid, For he rumbled inside while the old prophet prayed. The prophet was shut in as tight as a lock, But all things will be opened as sure as you knock. On the third day the old fish ’riz’ up from his bed, With his stomach tore up and a pain in his head. And said, “I must get to the air awful quick, For that filthy old sinner is making me sick.” So he winked his big eye and wiggled his tail, And pulled out for the shore to deliver his mail. When he got to the shore, he looked all around, Then vomited Old Jonah clear out on the ground. Old Jonah thanked God for His mercy and grace, Then turned to the Whale and made a face, And said, “After three days and nights you have found That a good man ‘Old Sucker’ you cannot keep down.” Having rested himself and dried well in the sun, He started for Ninevah almost in a run, And said, “I must hurry and try not to sin, For I’m sure I don’t want to be swallowed again.” He arrived in that city about a week late, And began preaching by the time he had entered the gate. Then the whole population repented and prayed, And the Great Hand of Justice and Vengence was stayed. When you disobey Mama, boys, remember this tale. When you run off from home, remember the Whale. There are varmints to get you on sea and on land, And a boy can be swallowed lots easier than a man.

Ralph J. Pennington

Eyeglasses In a past issue of the Soundings I described a gentleman who was 85 years old and unable to read because he did not have eyeglasses. His family was apparently not that interested in helping him, since they rarely visited him. We have had a number of people respond to this article with offers of help, and I would like to bring the story up to date. When we investigated the situation more thoroughly, we learned that the problem had more difficulties than we had first mentioned. For one thing, the gentleman was paralyzed and thus unable to go out for an examination. We had to make arrangements for an optometrist to come to the hospital to examine him there. We were glad to undergo this additional expense, but when the doctor completed his examination, we learned that the old man had cataracts so bad there was no way of removing them. His advanced age of 85 made an operation totally out of the question. It now is apparent

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that he cannot be helped in this fashion at all. An interesting sidelight developed, however, as a consequence of the doctor’s visit to the Nursing Home. A nother old man was there, approximately 75 years old. When he saw the doctor, he mentioned to one of our volunteer workers that he wished that he could get glasses, as he had not been able to read for quite some time. The volunteer asked the doctor if he would be willing to give this gentleman an examination while he was there at the home, and the doctor consented to do so. The exam ination determ ined that eyeglasses could indeed restore the sight of this man, at least to the extent that he would be able to read. We have now purchased the eyeglasses for the second gentleman and he is presently using them. He is very grateful to all those who made it possible for him to enter into this new world of sight. So the charity that we had hoped for the one turned out to be impossible to bring about, but because of that concern another gentleman is able to read.

Housing In the last issue of Soundings I mentioned a dream that we have here at CAP of being able to assist the poor and the elderly, especially, to acquire more adequate housing. This past winter has been totally beyond belief as far as the sufferings the poor people of our area have endured. Our board at CAP has now approved a program whereby we may begin to help alleviate these sufferings caused by the lack of proper housing. At this writing we are not sure of the extent to which we will be able to go. A great deal will depend upon the help and assistance we are able to get from our friends and supporters. But our plans are definite now, and the first housing starts will begin as soon as the weather will allow. The wooden crucifix shown on the cover of this issue of Soundings is a product of Saint William’s Woodworking Shop, Lancaster.