The Mountain Spirit - Sept./Oct. 1982

jfstian Appalachian Project

The Mountain Spirit Contents Guest E ditorial.................................................. 3 Features: Hunger of the H eart................................... 5 A Porch to Sit O n ........................................11 Poverty and Community............................ 16 Uncle Peter and Old Times on the Big S andy......................................... 23 Departments: Letters ........................................................ 4 Appalachian Arts and C ulture...................10 The CAP Closeup........................................14 Around the Project......................................20

The Magazine o f the Christian Appalachian Project September-October 1982 Volume I, N o. 5 Editor-in-Chief............................................Rev. Ralph Beiting E ditor.......................................................... R. Kenton Craven Associate Editor........................................ J. Randolph Jordan Associate E ditor............................................Margaret Gabriel Advisory Board.........................Mike McLaughlin, Bill Begley Subscriptions..................................................... Kathy Stathers Typesetting......................................................... Sheila Helton The Mountain Spirit is published six times a year. The annual subscription price is $5.00. Subscriptions and other correspon­ dence should be sent to The Mountain Spirit, Christian Ap­ palachian Project, 322 Crab Orchard Road, Lancaster, Ken­ tucky 40446. Copyright 1982, The Christian Appalachian Project, Inc. All rights reserved. The Christian Appalachian Project is a non-profit Christian service organization operating throughout Eastern Kentucky. We rely on private donations for over 99% of our funding. The Project operates on the philosophy that “ helping people help themselves” is the best approach to Appalachian poverty.

The September-October Theme Poverty—economic and spiritual, voluntary and involuntary—that’s our theme for this issue, as we look at Mother Teresa’s visit to CAP territory, hear from Father Beiting on the new faces of poverty, and spend some time with folks like Ed Phillips and Peter Justice. On the COVER, Father Beiting welcomes Mother Teresa and her Missionaries of Charity to Jenkins, Kentucky (photo by Charles Bertram, courtesy of the Lexington Herald-Leader)—see story, p. 5. Below, Mother Teresa, Ed Phillips, Uncle Peter Justice, and an Appalachian home—pictures that speak of poverty in different ways. Below right, Reverend Beiting pauses during the annual street-preaching tour. On the BACK COVER, a resourceful family finds a home (photo by Jordan). Special thanks to the many people who graciously permitted us to photograph them.

Guest Editorial by C. Edward Wardle

I t seems to me there are two ways of looking at poverty: the forest approach and the trees ap­ proach. When I think of “ poverty” or “ the needy” in a general sense, I tend to perform mental gymnastics which somehow take my focus off the person and place it on some gray, faceless mass of humanity labeled as being poor—whatever that is. After all, there are even dif­ ferent types of poverty. One kind is simply being unable, despite hard work, to provide enough for your­ self or your family. Another is to lose hope or pride so that you don’t even try to provide adequately anymore. Still a third kind might be to have sufficient material goods—even an abundance—but to lack faith in God, without which nothing ever brings contentment. But let’s assume we’re discussing the first type of poverty. The same phenomenon of losing track of the individual can happen in the very vocation of “ helping the poor.” It is very easy to become hardened to people and their problems and view one’s work as being with a class of people, rather than with individuals. I conceive of these two ways of working as a friendly visit with a person, on the one hand, helping him in whatever way I can, versus, on the other hand, people in organizational slots, dealing with offices, telephones, titles, legislation, and protest movements.

be grieved when thou givest unto him, because fo r this thing the Lord, thy God, shall bless thee in all thy works, and in all that thou puttest thine hand unto. For the poor shall never cease out o f the land; therefore I command thee, saying Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy in thy land. Deuteronomy, 15: 10, 11. Here the command is that each in­ dividual must be aware of those around him in need, and must give “ and not be grieved . . . ” (i.e., not feel stingy about it), and “ . . .the Lord . . . shall bless . . . .” Israel was a theocracy and certain provisions were built into the law of the land on behalf of the poor, but there is an individualized com­ passion in that law which is absent when all aid is channelled through a federal government. Should it be our goal to eliminate poverty? I do not believe the Bible or common sense teaches this. In the Gospel of John, for example, when Mary of Bethany broke the costly bottle of perfume over His feet in anticipation of his death and his disciples complained about the waste, Jesus said, “ Let her alone; for the day of my burial hath she kept this. For the poor always ye have with you, but me ye have not always” (John 12: 7, 8). That is to say, “ the poor you will always have with you to help.”

The Bible, in my view, eminently teaches the individual, personal ap­ proach. In the Law of Moses, for example, there is an emphasis on the duty to care for people in need:

Although Jesus knew everything including present and future political orders and economics, he did not predict that in the present world order there would ever be per­ fect economic equality. It is not ap­ parent that God either approves or disapproves of capitalism or socialism, of the market economy or of centralized direction, but it is clear that no world system to this day has ever abolished poverty or promises to do so.

Thou shalt surely give (to him), and thine heart shall not

In the Gospels we see Jesus going from place to place, healing in­ dividuals who have life-crippling

September-October 1982

problems, but do we see him giving speeches and sermons challenging the state or changing the structures? No. If Jesus had been interested in political solutions he would have been an anti-Roman rebel. His point of focus was deeper, more eternal than mere political solutions or economic change. He aimed at the crux of the problem: the hearts of men. It is not that we are to close our eyes to the problems of our society, but that our response as Christians should always be guided by the teachings of Christ. Ac­ cording to the Scriptures, this means we are to obey the government until this brings us into conflict with a direct commandment of God. This, in my view, prohibits breaking the law simply to “ fight injustices.” It is at this point that we part company with the so-called “ liberationists.” Some of God’s most able servants in our day have recognized that real change comes about within the human soul and not through “ movements” : William Cameron Townsend, founder of Wycliffe Bible Translators, who refused to shake his fist at tyrannical govern­ ments and chose, instead, to liberate their peoples by giving them the Bible in their own tongues; Mother Teresa, who puts food in peoples’ mouths rather than trying to solve the causes of hunger; or Father Ralph Beiting, who doesn’t waste time on political solutions, but in­ stead, goes to the people of Ap­ palachia and helps them gain what they lack. Ed Wardle is Director o f Planned Giving fo r CAP. Prior to that, he served with the Wycliffe Bible Translators in Mexico. 3

Letters Editor: I am a veterinary student at the University of Pennsylvania. I read The Mountain Spirit at dinner to give me a change of pace from my textbooks. Your magazine is in­ teresting and very well done. I’m glad my contributions are being put to good use—wish I could give more. Helen E. Armstrong Magnolia, New Jersey

Editor: My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, I really feel that you’ve come all the way with your new magazine, The Mountain Spirit. “ Tell it like it is” in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky. I was myself born and raised in those mountains. I know what you mean by your descriptions of the way mountain people cope with poverty, hardships, mining perils, and struggles . . . . Most of all, I gain inspiration from the testimonials of the wonderful people who, in simple, child-like ways, tell the story of what God has done, and will do for them. The miracles are old, but seem so new every time. I cannot describe in words what knowing mountain people in my youth, and knowing them now, does for me—to know that the Spirit of God still beats in the hearts of those wonderful people. So praise the Lord, and keep passing the ammunition! Herbert R. Hill Davison, Michigan

Editor: We are happy to have our humble part in your great work. Your magazine is enlightening and inspiring. It is bringing to light—to notice—what has been hidden too long. 4

Be assured of our prayers, and please bless your Carmelite sisters. Carmelite Nuns Schenectady, New York

Editor: You, Rev. Beiting, and your editorial assistants, R. Kenton Craven and J. Randolph Jordan, need special commendations upon the exciting new focus in the content of The Mountain Spirit. Would the dire need of the poor in Appalachia be diverted if the readers learned a little bit about the middle and upper middle class living in the surrounding area? How do they make their living? Are they descendants of the original settlers? In what way have they neglected or helped the poor after the mines closed down? Here in Manhattan the cultured rich have been and still are indif­ ferent to the poverty in their midst. God bless your well written, literate publication and its staff. Luise Was wo New York, New York We will try to keep your questions in mind in future issues, but please see the interview with Rev. Beiting on p. 16 o f this issue fo r some thoughts regarding your questions, as well as both Rev. Beiting and Mother Teresa on the nature o f poverty in our day, also in this issue. Thanks fo r your compliments!—Ed.

with tears as I read of the Harrisons’ unending love and devotion to these unfortunate little angels. The Harrisons are indeed correct when they state that all children have im­ mortal souls which transcend their physical limitations; and further that all children must be loved no matter what. The Harrisons are indeed living “ The True Philosophy.” John A. Testa Bronx, New York

Letters to the editor are welcome. Address letters to The Mountain Spirit, Christian Appalachian Project, 322 Crab Orchard Road, Lancaster, Kentucky 40446.

NEEDED: Christmas A ngels In 1982 CAP is expanding its Christmas Basket program from the 600 or so distributed in 1981 to 900 or more! Baskets are distributed to needy families and elderly people in five counties. They include food for three meals on Christmas Day, one new toy for each child, a small remembrance for each adult, and a gift certificate for clothing from one of CAP’S Attic stores. Would you be one of our Christ­ mas Angels and help with the expense of perishable food, gifts for elderly people and wrapping paper we must buy? Just enclose your donation in the envelope in the fold of the magazine and mark it “ Christmas Basket.”

Editor: The article, “ The True Philosophy—Love and the Harrisons” (The Mountain Spirit, July-August 1982) was a truly Christ-inspired story! I was frequently overwhelmed

Anything you can send will help us to help our Appalachian friends share with us the beautiful joy of the birth of Christ. It will make their Christmas so much happier, and you’ll see what it does for yours, too! God bless you! The Mountain Spirit

Hunger of the Heart

“I never forget o

was walkmg the

streets o f iM

We have sisters

working the,

man there sitting,

He loo fa

lonely and his face

looked

I went close to him

and I

d, and he immediately

looked up a

id, ‘oh, after such a long

time, I fe<

warmth o f a human hand.y

Mother Teresa o f Calcutta Visits Appalachia

%

It fe lt lik i Mch a small thing, that such a small touch would bring a beautiful smile on that face after such a long time. That's where love begins, small things with g| love. ”

by Margaret Gabriel

T

In November of 1928, Agnes Gonxha Bejaxhiu, a young Albanian woman born of Yugoslavian parents joined the religious order of Loreto Sisters and was sent to Darjeeling, India to begin her novitiate. In October of 1950, Mother Teresa, by now a citizen of India, founded the new Congregation of the Missionaries of Charity, which was dedicated to easing the suffering of the poor and dying in the slums of Calcutta and bringing them the presence of Jesus. In the 1960’s their work spread outside India to Venezuela, Ceylon and Rome. As more young men and women hastened to share in the work of the Missionaries of Charity, the world began to bestow honors and awards upon their foundress. In the fall of 1971 the order opened their first American houses in Harlem and the Bronx. Throughout the seventies houses were opened all over the world; today they number over 200. In 1979 Mother Teresa was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Then, in April of 1982, Mother Teresa of Calcutta established an Appalachian mission in the small mining community of Jenkins, Kentucky in Letcher County, near the Kentucky-Virginia border. O n June 19 and 20 the world watched as Mother Teresa traveled to Kentucky, first to the Northern Kentucky city of Covington, and then to the Appalachian area of Eastern Kentucky to visit her sisters and the townspeople of Jenkins, and to dedicate the new mission there. Although the Catholic population of Jenkins is very tiny it was the entire population that welcomed Mother to their community. The local bank flashed a lighted sign which read “ Welcome Mother Teresa,” the children roamed around outside the mission house singing their Bible school songs, waiting to hug Mother and her sisters; the local police depart­ ment provided a 24-hour watch, not because they expected any trouble, but because they felt that this important visitor deserved special attention. Since moving to Appalachia in mid-April, the Missionaries of Charity, Sister Fidelia and Sister Neville, both from India, Sister Lee Foong from Singapore, and Sister Anawim from Pittsburgh, have spent their time meeting their neighbors in town, looking for the needs which they might be able to fill. Many times in the course of her two day visit, Mother Teresa was asked what it was that the sisters hoped to accomplish in Ap­ palachia. “ Like people everywhere, all over the 6

GABRIEL

_M_he face of Mother Teresa could easily be the face of an Appalachian woman. Evident in the deep creases and weathered skin are long years of hard work and worry, but in her shining, peaceful eyes you can see, even before she makes the statement, that “ poverty is freedom.”

Mother Teresa of Calcutta

world,” Mother explained, “ we just feed the hungry, hungry for bread, hungry for love, naked for clothes, naked for human dignity and friend­ ship, homeless for a house, homeless for being unwanted, unloved, rejected. It depends what kind hunger, what kind nakedness, what kind homelessness, what kind sickness we will find. We will not be able to judge immediately. ’’ T h e blue and white saris of the sisters, the traditional garb of the poorest of India’s poor, are very different and distinctive in the small town, as they walk barefoot through the neighborhoods, meeting the people and getting to know the area. As different as they may appear, however, they have received a typical mountain welcome from the folks in Letcher County. Mrs. Verda Bates, who lives up the block from the sisters’ quiet home on Cove Avenue, near the center of town, says that she talks to the sisters almost every morning on her way to work and likes them very much: “ they seem like real nice ladies.” After the two Masses which were celebrated on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, Mother Teresa sought out the helpless and innocent in the throngs who had come to worship with her and to meet her. She reached to soothe crying babies and spent several minutes talking to Rev. Henry Parker, the former Episcopal chaplain at Berea College, who left his hospital bed for a wheelchair to travel to Jenkins in order to meet Mother. But it was the children who seemed to make the greatest impression on her, with their gifts of flowers, songs about Jesus, and warm, friendly hugs and kisses. The Mountain Spirit

On Sunday afternoon, June 20, St. George Catholic Church hosted Benediction which was open to the public, and it was at that time that Mother Teresa made her main address to the people, some of whom had traveled from as far as Massachusetts. Many of her comments were dir­ ected specifically to the people of Jenkins. “ I have no gold and silver to give,” she told the crowd which numbered several hundred, “ but I give you my sisters with great joy. And, really, I feel very happy and grateful to God for giving us this beautiful joy of being with you, and also I want specially to thank each one of you for accepting our sisters with so much trust, with so much con­ fidence, with so much love, with so much com­ passion. As if they have been here forever and ever. I was just asking the sisters, I said, ‘how do you feel?’ ‘We are at home here,’ the sisters told me. ‘We’ve been so happy here. The people have been just wonderful.’ ” T h e news media, which were represented by a dozen or more newspapers, magazines, and radio and television stations, ranging from United Press International to local weekly papers, asked again and again, “ Why Jenkins, of all places?” While there are poor people in Jenkins and all of Letcher County, it is not the poorest place in Kentucky, and the total population of the town is only 800. The usual image of the houses of the Missionaries of Charity is that they deal with teeming masses, and the “ poorest of the poor.” The sisters were invited to Kentucky by Bishop William Hughes of Covington, Mother explained, and it was left to Sister Priscilla, the provincial of North America, to choose the exact location. For two days in the late winter, the area was scouted by Sister Priscilla

who was escorted by CAP president, Father Ralph Beiting. Of their tour of Letcher County, Father Beiting recalls, “ First it was the Appalachian people who attracted them with their strong family ties, and their attachment to the land. Sister Priscilla was very suprised at the topographical similarities between Eastern Ken­ tucky and her home in the hills of India. We spent our first night in Whitesburg, the county seat, and the next day drove around the county to McRoberts, Neon, and some of the other small towns. We stopped at a gas station in Jenkins to ask directions and a young man of maybe twenty struck up a conversation with her as I talked to the men in the station. He introduced himself and asked what had brought us to his town. The friend-

“ Let us make this place something beautiful for God by spreading the joy of loving. And let us try to find the lonely, the unwanted, the really poor. There must be poor people here. There must be people who do not have what you have. Maybe your little help will help them to come closer to each other.”

liness and pride which he took in his town seemed to be a great factor in Sister’s decision.” With a smile and twinkle in his eye which made one in­ stantly aware of his great love for Appalachia, Father said, “ I think it’s a tribute to their wisdom that they have chosen Appalachia to begin their rural work in the United States.” IViother Teresa answered the question “ why Jenkins?” with far more simplicity. “ My concern is that wherever God wants us to be we will be. If you count the number, maybe in Calcutta we deal with thousands. Maybe here we will deal with two people. It’s not how much, but how much love!” In everyone with whom she comes in contact, Mother Teresa begets love. In her soft, Mid­ western accent, Sister Anawim told a crowd of anxious reporters, “ having Mother with us is like having Jesus with us. We feel like we experience the same love, the same power as Jesus who

Kristina Anastasia of McKee, Kentucky, presents Mother Teresa with flowers before the Sunday Benediction at St. George Catholic Church.

September-October 1982

7

GABRIEL

walked the earth in the gospels. She encourages us, she loves us, she helps us to become holier and better Missionaries of Charity. She helps us to become more like Jesus. We look forward to her coming like we would look forward to the coming of Jesus. And we don’t look forward to her going, because we would never look forward to the going of Jesus. We love her very much and we wish that she could always be with us.” Mother frequently requested prayers for their work, and said many times that her prayers are with all. “ I will pray for you that you grow in holiness in the likeness of Christ to this love for each other. And you pray for us that we may not spoil God’s work. That the work remains his work.” W e were all challenged by Mother—those of us from the outside and the people in Jenkins—to a particular task. At her press conference after Benediction, one reporter asked how she felt about being ‘‘canonized by the press.” Mother replied thoughtfully, ‘‘I think this is something normal for all of us, because Jesus tells us to love as our Heavenly Father loves. You have to be holy in your position as you are, and I have to be holy in the position that God has given me. It is nothing extraordinary to be holy. Holiness is not a luxury of the poor. Holiness is a simple duty for you and for me. We have been created for that, so there is nothing extraordinary. If you do your work as a newspaperman and in this work you always write the truth, always write for Jesus, and always speak of his love for one another, that will be your holiness.” To the people of Jenkins her challenge was to work together with the sisters. ‘‘It is very beautiful that we can work together. Let us come to know the poor of this area. Let us make this place

At an impromtu meeting with the press on Sunday afternoon Mother Teresa obliged a photographer who requested that she take his picture. 8

Sister Lee Foong chats with the crowd as she distributes prayer cards before Benediction.

something beautiful for God by spreading the joy of loving. And let us try to find the lonely, the unwanted, the really poor. There must be poor people here. There must be people who do not have what you have. Maybe your little help will help them to come closer to each other. Together with the sisters make sure that in this beautiful place, this beautiful country, there is not a single man, woman, born or unborn child who feels un­ wanted—for that you are there to love, to share the joy of loving together.” There was a peaceful aura late that Sunday af­ ternoon, after Mother had left to travel to North Carolina, and then on to Louisville. The town still looked the same; a tiny collection of small stores and homes nestled between great mountains rising up on either side, the bank sign still flashed ‘‘Welcome Mother Teresa” and the congregation of the Baptist church next door to St. George’s began to gather for Sunday evening services. But one sensed a change, as if heaven and earth had somehow touched that day, briefly, but gently and beautifully. As we drove out of town we saw the Missionaries of Charity walking down the street in Jenkins, two by two, stopping briefly now and then to chat with a townsperson, or visit with people sitting on their front porches. Although Mother Teresa was a foreigner to this small town, it is her message of love, of the impor­ tance of family and of faith in Jesus, all such typically mountain qualities, that has endeared her and her sisters to their Appalachian friends, and made them “ one of us now.” cap. The Mountain Spirit

GABRIEL

We are so very precious to Him, and He wants us to be precious to each other also. He wants us to love each other as He loved us.

Mary, the Mother o f God, she, carrying the Son o f God, didn’t think it below her to go and to do humble work fo r her cousin, to put her love fo r God in a living action by serving. But then, as soon as she entered the room there in the house o f Elizabeth, Elizabeth was with child and the little one, that little unborn child was the first one chosen to recognize the presence o f the poor, o f Christ, o f that little Christ. That little helpless child in the womb o f his mother recognized the Son o f God.

September-October 1982

We make our own mattresses. There was a mat­ tress being made because there was a new postulant coming and she had no mattress. We didn ’t have enough cotton, so I told the sisters, I said, ‘take my pillow and finish the mattress. ’ The sisters didn’t want to do it. They disobeyed me. So I got up and I took the pillow and I opened it. Exactly at that moment there was a knock at the gate, and a sister went downstairs and there was an Englishman standing there with a big cotton mattress. He said, ‘Em going to London and I thought Mother Teresa would like to have this mattress. ’ He could have come before, he could have come after, but see that beautiful tenderness and thoughtfulness o f God’s love.

Porch

by the CAP News Service

i* Mr. Lew Phillips of CAP’s Horn

E

Mr. Ed Phillips

10

id Phillips is 88 years old, and he sits on his porch most of the time on his twenty-six acre scrubland farm in the Knobs of Lin­ coln County, Kentucky. His breath is short these days—“ I can hardly make it to the mailbox out there” —and most of his energy he conserves for frequent visits to his wife, who is presently hospitalized (“ she’ll never be no better” ). Aside from two dogs, he lives alone. His vintage home is heavily open to draughts in winter, both around the windows and from underneath the house, which is perched on rock piles at the corners. He has lived here 37 years and loves his home, but he is lonely and ill, and at 88 can’t do much to repair it, which he sorely needs to do to cut heating costs (a wood stove), and to help his The Mountain Spirit

Repair Project chats with Mr. Ed Phillips on his farm in Lincoln County, Kentucky.

health problems. In addition, he doesn’t want to “ bum” help. “ The world is full of beats—people these days beat you out of things, and then laugh at you,” he reflects. As a lifelong, “ snapping turtle” Democrat who reveres FDR and who has no use for Carter or Reagan (“ neither Reagan nor Carter has enough upstairs to be president” and “ Reagan oughta make a Democrat outa anybody” ), he wants to keep his independence and to “ bum” from no-one. “ I pay the hospital each month for my wife’s care, what Medicare doesn’t cover, and that doesn’t leave me much from my Social Security and the little state pension check I get. I ought to be in the hospital myself, but I cain’t afford it.” That doesn’t September-October 1982

leave much to live on, but Ed Phillips doesn’t want to be a burden on anyone, and he doesn’t want to give up his home, his land, or his pride. “ Day and night it’s awful lonesome—my grandson wanted me to move in with him, ’cause I raised him like my own son, but I’m goin’ to die right here.” For Ed Phillips, as for so many Appalachian men, pride and honesty are characteristic of family. “ I’m a poor man, but my dad raised me to be honest and tell the truth. He was a soldier in the Confederate Army, and he fought in the Battle Above the Clouds at C hat­ tanooga—and he was a Democrat, too.” Mr. Phillips raised two adop­ ted girls and one son on this little farm, and he worked for the state

Making the house safe for another cold winter season.

and the county for eleven years in addition to farming; he has never been dependent on anyone for anything. T h e CAP Elderly Program (see The Mountain Spirit, JanuaryFebruary issue) recommended that Mr. Phillips look into the CAP Home Repair Program, headed by Mr. Lew Phillips (no kin). Lew, in turn, investigated Ed Phillips’ situation, and explained the procedures to him to his satisfac­ tion. For a very small monthly payment to cover the cost of the materials, Ed Phillips will have his windows repaired and winterized, have insulation placed under his floors, and have his chimney repaired to make the heating safe and efficient for next winter. Probable cost is difficult to estimate precisely in advance, but as Lew in­ forms us, the average home repair job undertaken by CAP runs about $450 to $500 in materials, and no labor charge is added on. Many of the materials used have been donated, and in some cases are provided by those being served. By paying for the materials, even if it is a token amount a month, the people served know that they are con­ tributing responsibly to their own independence and well being. By contributing the labor, CAP makes it possible for its donors to help Ap­ palachians in genuine need to join in a partnership that helps people help themselves with dignity. The day we visited with Mr. Ed Phillips on his porch, every objec­ tive of the home repair program was realized. In an easy relaxed manner, Lew Phillips, himself a loquacious Kentucky native of 63 (“ he would,’’ says a fellow staff member, “ talk to a post’’), folksed his way around the farm, and sat on the porch ex­ plaining the program to Mr. Ed Phillips. One of CAP’S two home repair crews was already busy in the back of the house, carefully estimating the needs and planning a strategy for repair. A s Lew explains, CAP operates one home repair crew in Rockcastle County, headed by Fred Manzi and 12

staffed with Dean Gentry and Car­ ter Renner. The other crew, the one working on Ed Phillips’ home, con­ sists of Larry Creech, Ted Maybriar, and Ray Greene, and works in Garrard and Lincoln coun­ ties. Between them, the crews repair from 90 to 100 homes a year, fixing roofs, windows, chimneys, floors, foundations—whatever needs to be done. In addition, the crews help with other CAP building projects. Lew has headed the project since 1977, and has been with CAP since March of 1975. In that time, he has served in a variety of capacities, in special projects, summer camps, procurement, food programs, and as general manager of Camp Nelson. He came to CAP from Cen­ tre College in nearby Danville, where he coached basketball, foot­ ball, and track, and before that he taught and coached in high school for seventeen years. “ We try to make a place livable,” he says, “ and we value the fact that people we serve can contribute in such a way as to feel responsible for what is being done. Sometimes we just help old people keep their porches— porches are important to people here, and it’s one of the things that CAP can do that a government program can’t.” As we left Ed Phillips sitting on his porch in the shade of his catalpa tree, we had to agree. cap. Top, Mr. Ed Phillips holds forth on politics; center, Mr. Lew Phillips and friend; below, Lew and Ted Maybriar discuss a repair strategy for another home.

Appalachian Arts and Culture

Where the Country Doesn’t Go Pop by Patrick Kelly A typical response to the hectic, hurried life of modern society is a longing for the return of a simpler, more uncomplicated way of life. Yet, as a matter of convenience, it would seem improbable that such a lifestyle should ever regain predominance. Unfortunately, this new convenience has been presented with several undesirable price tags. The most distasteful of these is, perhaps, the resulting change in our cultural values. In our popular music lies one of the most obvious changes, as electronic music such as disco takes the place of the music of our forefathers. True, Appalachian culture continues to hold its own as a bastion of refuge against an ever changing world. For this truth we can give thanks to a variety of factors. For one thing, the Appalachian regions have been somewhat slower to “ progress” than most other parts of the country. Yet, we must look still deeper than this, toward those individuals who have been instrumental in assuring our cultural heritage. One such hardy pioneer is Mr. John Lair of Renfro Valley, Kentucky: the originator and founder of the Renfro Valley Barn Dance. John Lair began his career in the 1930’s at WLS in Chicago where he booked a country music act known as “The Cumberland Ridgerunners.” In 1937 he continued his career at WLW in Cincinnati. It was two years later, in 1939, that he began the Renfro Valley Barn Dance. The Barn Dance quickly grew in popularity, not only among the people of the Appalachian region, but throughout the entire country; within the span of a little over a decade occurred what Mr. Lair reports as the high point of his career. September-October 1982

“ We had a network show on CBS sponsored by General Foods, which was the second biggest U.S. spon­ sor. It was one of the biggest shows on television according to viewer response. At one time, there were more than four times as many sets turned on to our show in Milwaukee and St. Paul than all the other net­ works combined.” The world fame this and two other network programs attached to the name of John Lair and Renfro Valley continues to this day. “ We still have tourists from all over the country and the world. Not long ago

Mr. John Lair

we had a man from Switzerland who said he had come to Kentucky to see two things, the Kentucky Derby horses and the Renfro Valley Barn Dance.” In the face of all the change that has taken place in coun­ try music over the last decade, one may find facts such as these start­ ling, seeing as how John Lair has in­ sisted on avoiding these changes. His reason for doing so is a simple one. “ When country music is changed, it is no longer country music. You have something else altogether.” Going on to explain the reason for the continued popularity of Renfro Valley in the face of so much change, Mr. Lair continued, “ we started out to preserve country

music and continue to preserve it.” In hearing this, I could not help but wonder why country music has gone through such changes in view of the popularity of the original. “ M oney,” Mr. Lair replied. “ You’re going to go with the fellow that offers you the most money. I’ve lost some of my own boys that way, boys like Red Foley and Merle Travis. In some cases, I heard of some of these boys ruining their lives, taking up drinking and other bad habits. They just got so big they couldn’t handle the pressure.” That John Lair considers country music important to our cultural heritage is obvious. For, ac­ cording to him, “ country music is history. It tells the stories and legends of a coun­ try or a region.” And, even more than the importance of country music, he is sure of its future. “ It may disappear for a while, only to come back stronger than ever. At times people have been ashamed to admit they like it. In the long run, however, it will increase in popularity.” I must admit, this had me puzzled. How could something people may at one time be ashamed to admit they like not only come back, but with even greater popularity? Perhaps sensing my confusion, or perhaps out of habit, Mr. Lair concluded by giving me the only response that could an­ swer my skepticism. “ It’s elemental,” he-said, “ it’s just in us.”

Patrick Kelly is a young Rockcastle, County, Kentucky native. He enjoys writing and would like to make a career o f it. 13

The CAP Closeup

Doris Anglin: The German Connection

1 really started just by accident. At that time it was Father Hoppenjans at St. Clare’s, and he asked me just to take some things to a store and wait for the lady who was supposed to come to work. My kids were in catechism at that time, so I drove down there in a station wagon with a few old hats and junk and set it up, and nobody ever came. So the next day, I went up there again, and he said, ‘would you mind setting up a little more?’ so I did, and that’s really how it started.” says Doris Anglin, the coordinator of CAP’S used clothing stores, referred to as the “ Attics.” Doris has been working at the Berea Attic since long before the Christian Appalachian Project even had that particular name, and has been the coordinator of the other stores in Lancaster, Stan­ ford, Mt. Vernon and Somerset for a little over two years. Over the years she has developed a keen sense for the problems of the area, the kind of help that people need, and a real sensitivity for the ongoing problems of the people who started as her customers and now have become her friends. Doris was born and grew up in Germany, near the Baltic Sea. It was World War II that strongly influenced her to go into work which would enable her to help people. “ I made a commitment during the war. The war broke out when I was thirteen years old, and I said to myself, ‘if I get through this, if there’s anybody who needs help, I’m going to help them as long as I can.’ That’s what com­ pelled me to do this. It sticks with you. What really keeps me, and this maybe is very selfish, but CAP enables me to help. We’re not wealthy, we’re not rich at all. We’re middle class, but CAP gives me the opportunity to help people that otherwise I couldn’t help. Through Father Beiting and through CAP I can do a lot of things. It might be very selfish, but it’s true.”

by the CAP News Service

14

The notion of Doris Anglin as a selfish woman is a thought that is far from the minds of the people with whom she works and especially her customers in the Berea Attic. Although the store serves many different kinds of people in the Berea area, like the professors and students from Berea College, local doctors, and other professionals in town, it is the poor people of the area to whom Doris is primarily committed. “ We have many families that we give to, but we don’t make it obvious. We do it in the back. Poor people don’t ask. You can give it, but you’ve got to be very careful. So, when we have some nice stuff and I think it will fit them, I say, ‘listen, we have some nice stuff here that you can use for quilting, why don’t you take it and do us a favor. We have too much.’ We don’t want to insult them. They don’t want charity, really. Some months we give away more than we sell. It’s the truth. The Mountain Spirit

“ We

know most all of the people who come in. If we see a new face, then we strike up a con­ versation, we say, ‘oh, I haven’t seen you before. You live around here?’ We get to know them, and after we get to know them we can find out if they have any special needs. The middle class, we strike up a conversation with them, too, and find out if we can get donations,’’ Doris explains with a laugh. Doris says that at first she had a hard time being accepted by the people, since she was a foreigner, much less not a Kentuckian, but now after the 22 years that she and her husband, Bill, a native of Berea, and their two children, Johnny and Renee, have lived in Berea, “ this is my home. I have roots here. Women will come in here, sometimes on a Saturday, when I’m not here, and they won’t even look. Mary, my assistant, has been here five years, but if I’m not here some of the people won’t look or even ask. I guess I’m accepted now. These country people get used to one person, and that’s all they’ll have.’’

Above, a Berea resident hunts for bargains. Below, a display of antique clothing featured in the “ Dust Bowl.’’

One of the unusual features of the Berea Attic is a little section which has come to be known as the “ Dust Bowl.” It’s a small alcove off the main store, which features vintage and period clothing. “ It all started with Barbra Streisand, really, and Renee helped me get on this track. Anyway, Bar­ bra Streisand came on stage at one of these award ceremonies and she had this really freaky dress on. People said, ‘what a lovely dress,’ and she said, ‘you wouldn’t believe where I bought this, at the Salvation Army in New York.’ I thought, my goodness, we’ve got lots of that stuff. I wonder if it will go? So Renee, who was in high school at the time, helped me fix up one rack in the store, and we couldn’t even keep enough in the store for what the people wanted. Then, when the lady next door moved out we connected the two rooms, and put all of the antiques and old things in one room. It’s really gone over wonderfully. Everybody who goes in says what an intriguing place it is. A lady came from the World’s Fair recently, and she said it was the only store she liked, all the way from Michigan! It’s just different, I guess.”

Then, I’d say, ‘here’s a beautiful sweater that fits you, don’t you want to buy this?’ The sweater says only 25 cents, and they say, ‘no, she wants the doll.’ I couldn’t figure it out! Why in the world are they doing this? They go and buy a stupid doll that doesn’t have any arms on it instead of buying a beautiful sweater for only 25 cents. Then I figured it out. The mother wanted to buy the doll for the little girl, because when she was little she never had a doll, and she wants to give her little girl what she never had. So, I would usually wind up giving her the doll. It was a puzzle for me. But it’s solved now.”

O v e r the years Doris has learned many things about the people. “ It was hard for me to under­ stand many things at first, because I’m from Europe and we had a completely different style of living. Like at first, I would see a lady come in with a little girl, and maybe the little girl just has a flimsy little dress on and a little summer coat, and its’s cold outside, it’s freezing. They go to the toy table. I try to price the toys higher, because I don’t want them to buy the toys, I want them to buy something else, something that they can wear. But they’d say ‘how much is the doll?’ I’d think to myself, ‘it’s stupid,’ but I’d say, ‘it’s $2.00.’

Doris places great value on spiritual motivation for her work. “ The Christian basis gives you more of a purpose for wanting to help; I think you have to have it, otherwise you can’t do a good job.” To see the people in Doris’ store, hear their comments, and see in Doris, and all the people she supervises, the caring Christian commitment of just talking to people on a daily basis, and getting to know them as friends and neighbors, you can see the importance of the Attics and see that she has truly fulfilled the commitment that she made as a young girl during World War II to help anybody who needs help. cap.

September-October 1982

Poverty And Christian Community An Interview with Reverend Beding

by the CAP News Service

The Mountain Spirit

Update on Our President

Late in 1981, the Christian A p ­ palachian Project told its donors and friends that the founder and president o f CAP, the Reverend Ralph Beiting, had been asked to move eastward to Floyd County, Kentucky, to take over several parishes there. Naturally, such a move caused much concern among the staff, volunteers, and donors who make up the CAP family. In the January-February issue o f The Mountain Spirit (p. 17), we reported that Father Beiting was studying “new territory fo r C A P ” and thinking o f the “best way fo r CAP to make a contribution to the area. ” Now that Father Beiting has been in Martin, Kentucky, fo r some time, The Mountain Spirit decided to ask him fo r the fruits o f his thought and observation as he expands the CAP service area eastward. As usual, we had to chase him down to gain the interview. The editors checked with various “informed sources, ” plot­ ted map coordinates and failsafe procedures, and hoped that trajec­ tories would match. We intercepted Father Beiting in Inez, Kentucky (pop. 800), the county seat o f Mar­ tin County which lies adjacent to the West Virginia border, high in the Cumberland mountains. Later, we followed him as he and another priest, Father Osberg, and a team o f seminarians engaged in the annual street preaching tour o f the moun­ tains. We listened as Rev. Beiting and his team spread the word about Jesus Christ in an ecumenical way, emphasizing the Good News. After one such stop, over baloney sand­ wiches and cokes, we were able to talk, seated in the grass by one o f the two highways that cross the county. After hearing the latest medical report on Father’s father, who is seriously ill, we talked about this area o f the mountains, and what CAP may do here. —EDS. September-October 1982

Mountain Spirit: Father Beiting, you’ve been in Martin and Floyd County for some time now. We’d like to ask you what you have seen, what thoughts you have about poverty in this part of Appalachia, and what you think CAP can do about it? Reverend Beiting: Poverty, I think, is still the major issue in Eastern Kentucky. One thing that I have learned between 1946, when I first came to Eastern Kentucky, and now, is that poverty changes its face. Sometimes it’s the shed and shack that are so apparent; sometimes it’s junk cars just scattered everywhere, and garbage and filth; sometimes it’s the bad roads with the isolationism they bring. Over the years, much of this has changed from time to time. What I see today as most pressing is the way poverty makes itself known, the fact that poverty isolates people, not in physical isolation as much anymore, but in spiritual isolation. For example, the children. They are still isolated from the main world outside because they don’t feel they can compete. They don’t feel they can rise beyond the level where they are. And the educational systems in most of the counties of Eastern Kentucky are not equipping those people who need it most to get ahead. Oh, yes, you’ll find the bright student and the family who cares and they’re going to make it in Eastern Kentucky as well as they would make it elsewhere. But as for the ordinary student whose parents aren’t as involved, who maybe don’t appreciate the value of education, that child is condemned to a loneliness in which he is not going to be able to grow beyond what he can feel, or touch, or see. He can’t imagine; his perception is limited; he’s in prison—and that’s poverty. Mountain Spirit: The children are being stunted in their growth as human beings? Reverend Beiting: Yes, we see that time and time again. From many of these children, we could have had

the future, that spark of genius that could have turned things in a better direction, but we don’t have it. Mountain Spirit: Is there anything about education in our culture at large that contributes to this, in ad­ dition to the poor quality of the schools? Reverend Beiting: Yes, I believe that our education is too insistent on things. We have lost the value of people in education. So that the im­ portant thing that we teach these children is to get a good job, make a lot of money, build a big house, go to the cities and live, because it’s a lot better than here in, say, Inez. And that is not what we need in Ap­ palachia. We need for the people who know and understand the area, who are gifted and imaginative, to stay here and bring the area up to a higher plane of living and thinking. Mountain Spirit: That sounds like an old theme in talk about Ap­ palachia—I heard it in West Virginia in the late fifties. After all the wars on poverty and such, we are coming back to this? Reverend Beiting: Yes, I think we are. Yes, it is an old theme. It was a major theme back in the twenties, when Alice Lloyd College came to Pippa Passes, when many of the Settlement Schools started, when so many people came here and tried to help. Now, fifty years later, I don’t think we can deny that it is a primary need. Nowadays, anyone in the mountains can go to school, but when you have counties in which 50% of the kids don’t finish high school, something is very wrong. The transportational system is there, the schools are there, but there’s no will to know, there’s no eagerness to get excited about the future and to be happy about the present. That was poverty in the twenties, and it is the poverty we see now. Mountain Spirit: Are there any other areas in which you see the face of poverty? Reverend Beiting: Yes, I see it in the old, and in something of the same 17

way. Most of the elderly have enough to eat, and they frequently even have an adequate place in which to live, but they’re as lonely as can be. They just really don’t know what to do. We see that in street preaching. We were in a little place Monday, in a little community called Milo, and this lady was sitting on her porch off a little old shed, and after we got out, I asked her if I could preach there, and she said, “ well, I reckon.” She was a little hesitant. But after we got going, she just warmed up and she started clapping when the singing came along, and afterwards she didn’t want us to leave. She wanted to know when we could come back because she hadn’t had such a nice afternoon in her whole life. It was just somebody who came in her yard, and talked, and sang, and visited. All that meant something to her, and to us. She was just a lonely old lady. She wasn’t going to freeze to death, or starve to death, but she was going to be lonely all the days she had left.

do in the area of health is this notion of hospice. Cancer is almost for the mountain people what leprosy was for the Jews—the greatest fear. When you mention cancer, they get so flabbergasted, especially the old people. They can’t stand hospitals, and there are not enough nursing homes in the area. Some can stay in their homes, but need people to visit and care for them. And some of them need a place to come to die, where there is love and care. Mountain Spirit: The loneliness of children, of the old, of the sick—it’s

This loneliness in families and the disruption it brings, that is the greatest poverty, the poverty of love. It’s really amazing that people don’t know how to love, don’t know what it is. They think that what they can get is love, and when that runs shy, they don’t know what to do. Mountain Spirit: What causes this lack of love and obsession with violence that’s destroying families? Reverend Beiting: Well, I suspect that television is one of the major ingredients. Used to, you saw an­

Mountain Spirit: What makes it this way? What makes the loneliness? Reverend Beiting: Well, families nowadays move so often—we have such a transitory society, it’s always on the move, and that’s no less true in Appalachia with all the out migrations we have had. These old people get left behind. So we have to be very much concerned about th a t—the poverty that makes someone lonely. Mountain Spirit: What else makes poverty? Reverend Beiting: Health. There’s a poverty of health. We see some clinics spotted here and there, but we need more of them because so many people here are living in un­ sanitary conditions and are not get­ ting proper diets. The latest in­ dications from researchers is that mental retardation caused by malnutrition is irreversible; people are going to be mentally damaged all their lives because they didn’t get some simple basic foods when they were children. But you know, one of the things that I would like to see us 18

Deacon Bob Damron, and seminarians Roger Schuler and Bob Schrorer help Father Beiting pound out “ That Old Time Religion” from a Baptist hymnal during the annual street preaching tour of the mountains. An unidentified mountain child puzzles over the sudden attention.

beginning to mount up . . . . Reverend Beiting: The loneliness reaches into families too. You know how you saw out here, today, that the wife with seven children came out for our little preaching and singing. They don’t get out with many people here, they’re poor, she has no-one to visit. Frequently the husband doesn’t care. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was at a place called Topmost (see “ Vigil at the Topmost Mine,” The Mountain Spirit, MarchApril 1982, 14-16) visiting a school teacher, and she said that every Monday she could figure on at least 25% of the class not being there. Why? Because it was a weekend, and the father got drunk and beat up on the mother and the kids and kicked the mother out, and they had to go to relatives, and missed the schoolbus, and so on.

tennas on every shack and shed. Now cable has made its way into the mountains, and into the mining communities and hollows. And the people, especially the kids, watch it day and night. I don’t know the names of these crazy shows, but they show false ideas of love and family round the clock, all kinds of insinuations about affairs going on. The kids really begin to expect that that’s the natural way people live. One of the seminarians the other day was talking to a kid and said, “ th a t’s not right to live with someone you’re not married to.” And the kid said, “ oh yeah, that’s the way it is.” The kid saw it on Dallas. That’s what kids today believe is right, for television has now surpassed the Bible as the basis of mountain culture. Parents have very little impact on the children The Mountain Spirit

anymore, they’re abandoning their position as parents. We have to get rid of this macho idea, and get love back in the family if we’re going to deal with the poverty of family.

But as for the ordinary student whose parents aren’t as involved, who maybe don’t appreciate the value of education, that child is con­ demned to a loneliness in which he is not going to be able to grow beyond what he can feel, or touch, or see. He can’t imagine; his perception is limited; he’s in prison—and that’s poverty.

Mountain Spirit: What is the answer to all these kinds of poverty? Reverend Beiting: The first answer is to recognize the final kind of poverty here, and that is poverty of religion. That has been growing in Appalachia. When Harry Caudill wrote his first book, Night Comes to the Cumberlands, in the late fif­ ties, 24% of the people in Eastern Kentucky were all that had ever joined an organized religion. When he wrote his second, Watches o f the Night, in ‘73 or ‘74, the percentage had dropped to 16%. Many of the good old time religions that were here have steadily declined in strength, and they—the Baptists, Presbyterians, Methodists, Disciples of Christ, and so forth—did so very much in Appalachia in education and health. They were demon­ strating a love for God that is now disappearing, and they are losing members. Instead, we see now so much of a kind of fundamentalism that emphasizes “ me and God,” and leaves out one’s neighbor, saying “ if my neighbor is poor, then that’s his fault.” The groups get smaller and smaller, and don’t even accept other groups in the same denomination. What we need to do is to develop a solid ecumenical spirit among those denominations, the old down to earth Protestant denominations, and work together in a solid front against isolationism, and for Christian community. As I said, poverty has changed its face in the mountains, and we have to meet it as it really is, meet it behind all the problems with food, clothing, and shelter—though we continue to need to address those problems—where people have lost the reason for living. Change that, show people the way to happiness, and poverty will end. Mountain Spirit: We take it you’re still thinking of an ecumenical Christian school as a major way to deal with all these kinds of poverty? September-October 1982

Reverend Beiting: Yes, indeed. We’re trying to get some land donated for that purpose, and we want to open the doors in August of 1983, if that is possible and the Lord wants it. I have a general focus for what we want to do in preschool, grade school, high school, and a GED program for drop-outs, or those who need more training, and possibly some hook up with the local community college for other programs serving those who want to change their lives.

everyone working together in the pursuit of quality education, but quality education that builds family. No child will be accepted in our school unless we have the family’s willingness to participate. I believe that if we can do this, we can ad­ dress another historic problem in Appalachia—getting the big com­ panies interested in building Christian community. They have children, too, and they want good education. If we can get them ex­ cited, they may help us, and them­ selves at the same time. Mountain Spirit: It sounds exciting to us! What about teachers? Reverend Beiting: Well, it certainly would be foolish not to use the qualified local people with a good Christian spirit who are desirous of helping. But it would also be foolish not to use im agination and creativity from outside the moun­ tains, both volunteers and qualified educators, both nuns and people from Protestant religious groups as teachers. Mountain Spirit: It sounds like a really good starting point to change poverty. Poverty has changed, you say, in the mountains. Is the old

W

5 < o CQ

Street preaching attracts people who want to sing and talk—and that’s what it’s all about. These folks in Martin County had a good time with Father’s team.

Mountain Spirit: What about the religious emphasis in such a school?

culture of Appalachia completely gone?

Reverend Beiting: We want to have a Christian school in which children may learn about God in their own traditions—so that we have a Catholic school, a Baptist school, a Methodist school, etc. Then we’re going to work together to make a school in which each tradition is respected and cultivated. Then we want to build on that so we can have

Reverend Beiting: Many of the old folkways and institutions are simply gone, gone. The modern world has hit hard. But there is still some of the old mountain hospitality, and there is a hunger for good things. That’s where we have to meet pover­ ty with Christian community—with the spirit instead of things only—with the mountain spirit! 19

around the project

by the CAP News Service

Blue and Grey Clash at Perryville

Thousands Wounded, Killed In Unexpected Enounter Confederates Win the Day But Withdraw by Night North and South Critical of Bragg and Buell Appalachia Remains Faithful to the Union Cause

PERRYVILLE—Under a blisteringly bright sun, waves of Confederate infantry stormed the federal positions lining steep hillsides on the bluffs overlooking the Chaplin River near Perryville, Kentucky, in the largest Civil War battle on Kentucky soil. Only a few miles from the Washington County courthouse where Abraham Lin­ coln’s parents were wed (and many say, in the county where Lincoln was born), and from the site of St. Thomas Aquinas Academy in St. Rose, Kentucky where Jefferson Davis attended preparatory school near the home of his grandparents, black powder clouds obscured the close and bitter fighting of men in the civil conflict. Cannons roared by the dozens on both sides, hospital stations treated the river of wounded and dying, cavalry troops rushed back and forth on the stony fields, bonnetted ladies in long gowns watched their loved ones from distant copses, sutlers wheeled large wagons of provisions 20

in the rear, and young drummers sounded the “ long roll” throughout the day. October of 1862, when 16,000 Confederates under General Brax­ ton Bragg engaged some 32,000 Union troops under General Don Carlos Buell? Well, almost. Rather, it was July 5, 1982, in Boyle Coun­ ty, Kentucky, where one of the largest Civil War battle reenact­ ments in history was taking place at Perryville Battlefield State Park, the site of the original battle. To recreate the historic scene with haunting accuracy, twenty-three hundred Civil War buffs gathered from all parts of the United States to reenact in as authentic detail as possible the decisive battle for Ken­ tucky. Entering the park, I rounded a curve and nearly ran into a start­ ling image from the past—a Con­ federate regiment armed with Zouave rifles and dressed in tattered grey, hayfooting and strawfooting it across the road by an old stone wall where, more than a hundred years ago, their counterparts wrote the battle of Perryville into the history books.

The participants provided the crowd with a fast paced represen­ tation of the battle, complete with authentic uniforms, rifles, cannons, and black powder noise and smoke. Colonel Louis Gravetti of nearby Danville led a band of the 1,800 Confederates in the 1st Kentucky Brigade—the famed “ Orphan Brigade” of Kentuckians who chose to fight for the Confederacy in a state torn down the middle by the civil conflict. The battle of Perryville was a strange anomaly even for that war. The two sides blundered into each other nearly fifty miles from where they expected each other to be, and in the middle of a terrible drought, found themselves fighting over the precious little water left in the Chaplin River. General Buell of the Union had 60,000 troops in the im­ mediate area, but let the 32,000 he committed to the two mile front get whupped by 16,000 Confederates under Bragg. Realizing he was out­ numbered, however, Bragg with­ drew during the night—and retreated all the way through the Cumberland Gap into Tennessee!

around the p roject. . . continued His first exposure to CAP came at his Baccalaureate, when Father Beiting was awarded an honorary degree. Guy was impressed with Father, and spent time with him af| ter the ceremony asking questions < about CAP and its work. Guy says, “ It gives me a good feeling to work with an organization that makes a difference in people’s lives.”

The North could not believe that Buell had failed to destroy the Con­ federate Army; the South did not forgive Bragg for failing to con­ solidate his victory and give strategic Kentucky to the Southern cause. Bragg had just installed a Confederate governor in Frank­ fort—and the Battle of Perryville was the South’s last chance to swing Kentucky into the Con­ federate ranks. It was as if two giant beasts had brushed dumbly against each other in the night, and went their separate ways. The Con­ federates retreated so hastily that they left 440 unknown soldiers dead on the field to be buried by Squire Bottom, a local farmer, and their mass grave marks the center of today’s memorial park. I noticed the mailbox across from Squire Bot­ tom’s house, now preserved. It read, “ Bottom.” The battle of Perryville saw Ken­ tuckian pitted against Kentuckian in the bloody war that tore America asunder. Here, more than anywhere else, brother fought brother and father fought son. In Kentucky there were few easy sectional lines. There were Union men aplenty in the Bluegrass of central Kentucky, and many a Confederate in northern Kentucky. The eastern, moun­ tainous section of the state, however, was largely a Union stronghold, just as it was in the Ap­ palachian sections of Tennessee, and North Carolina. Mountaineers September-October 1982

had little interest in the slave holding sections of the lowlands, and much suspicion of “ flatland” politics. Few major battles occurred throughout Appalachia after the battle of Phillipi, West Virginia, with the exception of the Battle of Lookout Mountain at Chattanooga, and warfare in the hills stayed mostly in the bushwhack and guerilla category.

New Staff in Lancaster LANCASTER—During the sum­ mer Father Beiting, Mike McLaughlin, and the Board of Directors saw the need to add several new people to the CAP staff in Lancaster. Guy Adams joined the staff in early June as the assistant to Bill Begley, CAP’s appeal director. Guy will be aiding Bill in current fund raising efforts, and helping to reduce cost so that the maximum amount of the dollar given can be used to help the people of our coun­ ties. Guy was born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky and attended Berea College, serving as Student Body President in 1979-80. It was in college that Guy got his first fund raising experience, working in the Development Office of Berea College.

David Meehan comes to the staff as controller. Executive Director, Mike McLaughlin explains, “ As CAP is ever growing and ex­ panding, and programs grow fur­ ther into the field, we recognize the need for greater financial control and tight budgeting to stretch our donors’ dollars as far as they can go.” Dave is a native of Northern Ken­ tucky, but has spent the last 16 years in five different countries, most recently as a Director of Finance for an airport city in Saudi Arabia. Dave describes Saudi Arabia as “ grim living. I couldn’t ask my wife to live there any longer,” so he and his wife, Maggie, moved back to Northern Kentucky. When he was looking for work Dave says he was completely open to any type of organization or company, but was in­ trigued by the purpose of the Christian Appalachian Project. “ I am grateful to have an opportunity to join such a fine group of dedicated people whose purpose is to express a real sense of caring to people who have not had the advan­ tages and opportunities that we have had. I will do all I can to contribute to the continued success of CAP.” To serve as Spiritual Director for the volunteers, CAP has hired Bob Howe, from Richmond, Virginia. Although he will be primarily in­ volved with the volunteers, he will be accessible to employees as well. Mike explains, “ Bob has many years experience in religious ministry. Since Father Beiting is now physically distant we feel the need for someone in our midst to minister to the spiritual needs of the volunteers, and all of the staff.” 21

around the pro ject.. . continued

Into Stocks?

O f the business variety, that is.

Marie Vanasse has been with CAP as a volunteer for the past year. She has served as head volunteer in Lan­ caster, and has also worked in the elderly and medical transportation programs in Garrard County. In the fall Marie will begin a new position as personnel coordinator for the volunteers. Her duties will include directing the activities of some 40 permanent and 200 temporary volunteers, to insure proper placement and execution of assign­ ments. Marie says, “ I appreciate the confidence that has been placed in me for this task. We hope that our efforts will make it possible to provide support and encouragment to the volunteers, as well as direc­ tion in using their talents for the bet­ terment of the people they serve.”

Did you know that corporate stock may be donated to the work of the Christian Appalachian Project? For a tax deduction? Often at lower cost to you than a cash gift?

To all of these folks The Mountain Spirit extends its warmest welcome as they join our CAP family.

While stock values are down is an excellent time to donate and receive tax considerations. Send NOW, without obligation, for your free copy of “ Giving Stocks.’’ Simply fill out the coupon below and send in the en­ velope in this issue of The Moun­ tain Spirit!

Volunteer Orientation LANCASTER—Cliffview Lodge was the site of the fall orientation session for the CAP volunteers. The volunteers met from August 29 to September 3 with Father Beiting, Mike McLaughlin and spiritual director Bob Howe.

The group included all of the volunteers who will be returning to CAP for another year of service, as well as 15 volunteers who will be joining CAP as volunteers for the coming year. During the week that the volun­ teers spent at Cliffview their time was filled with talks by Father Beiting about CAP’s goals and philosophy, history, and current ac­ tivities, and private interviews with Father and Mike. There was plenty of time to renew old friendships, begin to get to know the new people in the crew, and spend leisure time boating, fishing, and swimming on Herrington Lake. At the end of the week prospective volunteers and old volunteers who were interested in changing their position were asked to indicate three choices of job placement. Based on individual preferences, the needs of the programs that requested volun­ teers, and the talents of the volun­ teers available, jobs and living arrangements were made for each person. It was a successful session this year, full of time for learning, relaxing, sharing, and growing. Welcome to the new volunteers, and to all of those in the volunteer community, may you have a happy and fruitful year.

JORDAN

cut h e re ^ ...........................................................

Reverend Ralph Beiting Planned Giving Department Christian Appalachian Project 322 Crab Orchard Road Lancaster, Kentucky 40446

“ Please send, without obligation, my free copy of the important brochure, ‘GIVING STOCKS’.’’

NAME ___ ADDRESS CITY _____ STATE, ZIP

22

Volunteers enjoy a game of backgammon during a break from meetings.

The Mountain Spirit

JORDAN

Uncle Peter and Old Times on the Big Sandy

by R. Kenton Craven

k J o u th of Prestonsburg, a thriving mercantile community in Floyd County, Kentucky, the idle traveller passes a pastiche of today’s Appalachia. As he buzzes down one of the modern four lane highways that gouge their ways through the moun­ tains, he passes now a cluster of shacks and shan­ ties, now a cluster of impressive homes in the $150,000-$250,000 range. Off to the right is the Levisa Fork of the Big Sandy River, which snakes its channel through the mountains of northeastern Kentucky to form a border with West Virginia before emptying into the Ohio. It is hard to image steamboats chugging up this little stream, sometimes with shackled slaves on deck, sometimes with equally lucrative but less shameful cargo, but there was a time when . . . . At a sign which says “ Tram,” one of the many one-lane, cable suspension bridges that sway precariously over eastern Kentucky streams crosses into a small village scattered through several hollows. In one of these hollows, if you are fortunate enough to navigate the dirt roads in the dry season, Mr. Peter Justice, or Uncle Peter, as he is known in this county, will help your imagination with lessons in historical memory. And, along the way, he will impress images upon you that teach lessons in suffering and dignity. A t 94, he says “ I cain’t remember things good like I once did,” and it is clear that Uncle Peter’s September-October 1982

memory rests in the images of his younger days, and in the memories and tales of his parents. He will steer even the most determined interlocutor back again and again to the days of 1850-1917 with Faulknerian determination: he has staked it out as his time, a fabulous time of the imagination that gives shape and meaning to his existence. In his presence one is transported, enchanted into that time, and is charmed not only with his stories, but with the manner of the man. In his slow, peaceful rhythm of speech, the dialects of moun­ tain man and black man mingle melodiously in a singsong, delicate in accent. In his gentle movements and gestures, one recognizes that here is something we have lost—the civilized virtues: gentility, compassion, piety, courtesy. As he speaks, one recognizes slowly that Uncle Peter’s statements, rich and deliberate, sweet and long in a high drawl, stand out in relief against the frenetic staccato of modern speech, much as the Big Sandy itself and the memories it conceals in its willowed long turns contrast with the roaring fourlane full of coal trucks. And more: it is a speech that has been refined in generations of suf­ fering. He’s lived here all his 94 years—born at Ivel just down the road from Tram, he moved to the hollow on Camp Branch (named for the great revivalist camp meetings held there in the last cen23

I ’ve heard old men say that they would go a courtin ’ ten or fifteen miles, a group o f them, to where their sweethearts were—among the black folks especially—they would walk barefooted, their shoes around their neck and clean socks in their pockets. When they got close, they’d go to a creek and wash their feet good and clean, put their socks and shoes on, go strut tin ’ in in fine style, and say they wore them all the way. Oh, that’s the way they’d do then! We done the same when we went to church on Sunday.

Above, a view of the bridge over the Big Sandy, facing away from Tram; below, a push boat on the Big Sandy around 1912, courtesy Alice Lloyd Photographic Ar­ chives, Alice Lloyd College, Pippa Passes, Kentucky.

tury) when his parents bought their piece of land on the ridge overlooking the Big Sandy. “ That was in the steamboat time. I can remember hearing the steamboats pass. That’s the way they got freight in this country, and people travelled on ‘em. Later on, after the steamboats, to get freight in this country they had somep’n they called a push boat—men pushed that with a pole, and it was awful hard work.” Uncle Peter also recalls travel on the “joke wagon road.” Joke wagon? “ Jes’ a wagon they hauled with horses and mules. They called it a joke wagon on accounta it was rough.” But the river threads its way through his memory again, and he remembers the days when Appalachia was covered with virgin timber, an,d when the major industry was logging. “ They cut big logs, and hauled ‘em with cattle for power, and floated them down the river to market. That paid $1.50 a day—cuttin’ them logs, scalpin’ the bark off ‘em, drivin’ ‘em with cattle an’ gettin’ ‘em down out of the hills and puttin’ ‘em in the river.” The logs were then tied with chain, and the loggers waited for the “ flood tide,” —i.e., for the river to rise high enough to float the logs down to Catlettsburg and the Ohio. The men who moved the logs, some of them uncles to Uncle Peter, were paid a dollar a day for the trip down, and steam­ boat fare to come back, but often they walked the sixty miles with their shoes tied round their necks, to save shoe leather and to pocket the steamboat fare (readers of The Mountain Spirit interested in more detail should consult books by John Fox, Jr., especially The Little Shepherd o f Kingdom Come and The Trail o f the Lonesome Pine).

In our era, the anti-culture in which we live wrecks the pious foundations of our lives by severing God from history and man from culture, creating men without memories. A man without memory has no foundations, and cannot know who he is.

But while Uncle Peter can spin out tale after tale of the old days on many subjects, what is of most interest is his own family history, and the story of his people. Every man’s life is a charm, a mystery to be pondered; the route into that mystery lies through the events that roll over and over in the memory. And what speaks most to us in memory are those events that have to do with what the Romans called piety, which is reverence for and loyalty to our origins—origins in people, land, history, and finally, in God. In our era, the anti­ culture in which we live wrecks the pious foun­ dations of our lives by severing God from history and man from culture, creating men without The Mountain Spirit

memories. A man without memories has no foun­ dations, and cannot know who he is. Up to a point, Uncle Peter knows who he is because he carries and treasures the memory of the great events that formed his family, and the responses his family made to those events. He fingers those memories carefully, like beads or old coins, and wonders at them. First in importance in his memory is that both his parents were slaves when they were young, and lived on plantations in eastern Kentucky. That fact alone evokes a dif­ ferent world, one of homespun clothing, hard

was close to a free state.” His mother’s “ mawster” was ‘‘good to his slaves,” and she was a house servant whose mistress taught her to read and write very well—which was illegal, since slaves who could write could forge passes and thereby escape. The story of Uncle Peter’s Aunt Violet illustrates the importance of passes, which all slaves in transit were required to produce for any white man who asked. John Justice’s children were allowed to choose a slave when they married, and when Violet was chosen and taken on a steamboat ride for her mistress’ honeymoon, she somehow managed to coax the drunken How are things today? People livin’ too fast. But God is doing His part to have a good season, and to raise plenty o f veg’tables fo r anyone who’ll work. I t ’s not like a famine or anything today, and no big sickness. Seems like people want more than they need, and they’re not savin’ like they once did. You can go to a garbage dump and find useful things throwed away, where back seventy-five years ago, people kept things and mended their clothing. A wishful waste makes a woeful want sometimes.

w _) Q < £ aC

The editor enjoys stories with Uncle Peter

work, whippings, runaways, witches, ghosts, fan­ cy gentlemen plantation owners, church services after dark and abolitionist meetings, and—perhaps most important—the great Civil War. But behind this fact and the world it con­ jures up, there is the fact that Peter Justice had two white grandfathers. On his father’s side there was John Justice at Grapevine, Kentucky, ‘‘who bought a black woman and used her as a con­ cubine, according to the Bible; he raised two families right in the same yard. He had a white wife, and he had the concubine thar—my daddy and aunts and uncles told me all about it—and there was ten of the black children and I don’ know how many of the white.” On his mother’s side, the same sort of system prevailed, so that his maternal grandfather was James Hogue, a slaveowner, though she was later given to Dr. John Hogue, ‘‘a big shot—he was a doctor, lawyer, and a preacher,” Uncle Peter recalls in a voice tinged with gentle irony, ‘‘and he knowed that slavery was wrong.” T h e world in which Peter Justice’s parents grew up, the world of slavery, was ‘‘tolerably hard,” but not so hard, he acknowledges, as in the Deep South, ‘‘because here on the Big Sandy we September-October 1982

bridegroom into writing her a pass, with which she slipped into Ohio, where her descendants live to this day. Though slaveowners were legally able to pursue runaways into free states from a border state, Dr. Hogue’s family, perhaps bothered by guilt or impressed by initiative, did not do so. Slavery is, however, slavery, and no matter how much ameliorated by compassion or gentle treat­ ment, it is an evil institution which permits some to own, use, and abuse others as chattel. “ Had the North not won the war,” Uncle Peter wryly muses, “ there would be no color today.” Som e years after emancipation, Peter Justice’s mother and father met, married, and bought the present land on Camp Branch in Floyd. County. As Peter’s father, Nathan, plunked down the money for the land, his mother recalled an in­ teresting incident from her childhood in slave times. “ She spoke up an’ tol’ about a fortune teller in bondage days. He came to Dr. Hogue’s to work, an’ he was tellin’ fortunes one day when she came thar with her mistress. She ran up and said she’d like to have her fortune told, and Dr. Hogue laughed and said, ‘get on away, you don’t have any fortune.’ But the fortune teller said, ‘yes, she’s got a fortune, an’ I want to tell it.’ And he 25

looked in her hand and said, ‘Doctor, she’s got land in her hand; she’s gwine to be a landowner.’ That made it worser, when he told a slave-owner that a slave was goin’ to own land. So when my father bought this piece of land, she spoke up and toF her story.” Uncle Peter’s eyes shone with a finely edged humour as he told this turn-the-tables story.

“ We weren’t immigrants, and we weren’t aliens, and we weren’t refugees. We was captured and brought here by people who had forgotten about the hereafter, and who made us work ten hours a day and whupped us if we didn’t do jes’ right.’’

WHOOM! The house rocked suddenly from the tremendous force of a nearby explosion. Uncle Peter didn’t move an eyelash. He explained that a company is strip mining a substantial part of his ancestral two hundred acres, and in fact, five miles of the ridge “ all the way down to the Ban­ ner bridge. They say it will all be flat land, then, sowed in grass and trees. They say it should take about ten years to do it all.” As he speaks, I can­ not help thinking of the many such visions that have floated through Appalachia in the last hun­ dred years, and of the waves of exploitation, the waves of broken promises that have often ended in fouled streams, slag heaps, and shanty towns. Will this promise end as another slavery, another ex­ ploitation, another dispossession? Uncle Peter’s daughter, as we leave, lets us know that she is pessimistic about what will happen to the “ reclaimed” land.

immigrants, and we weren’t aliens, and we weren’t refugees. We was captured and brought here by people who had forgotten about the hereafter, and who made us work ten hours a day and whupped us if we didn’t do it jes’ right.” Again, it is a calm, deliberate statement of fact from memory, much as the Hebrews carried the memory of Babylon Egypt with them. It is a sealing and reaf­ firming of a truth which no man has the right to deny, and which Uncle Peter Justice knows to be a statement which Justice must consider. Through his people’s suffering, he reminds us that we can­ not forget. cap.

Below, blasting into the mountains of Pike Coun­ ty to lay the first railroad, around 1912. Photo courtesy of Alice Lloyd Photographic Archives.

B u t from his vision of hope for the future, Uncle Peter returned to his calm tale-telling about Civil War battles, old time religious camp meetings, courtin’ ways, robbers in the high mountain passes, and ghosts and witches. He is not much interested in talking about the last seventy or so years, the period in which he raised fourteen children and worked building the rail line up the Big Sandy. His mind goes back to origins and primal deeds, fabulous times and steamboat whistles, and the crucible of suffering that formed him and the nation. There appears to be no bitter­ ness or resentment in him about the past. But in a brief discussion in which one of us mentioned illegal aliens from Mexico, I see in his eyes a flash of well controlled fire, and he says, “ we weren’t 26

The Mountain Spirit

n MOUNTAIN SPRAY Popular with our donors for hanging on and beside doors instead of the conventional Christm as w reath. Neatly made of Fragrant Balsams decorated with frosted cones and a narrow red velvet ribbon. $10.00 ea.

Order Early !

#2 APPALACHIAN WREATH A simple 20” wreath of great beauty made from Balsam or Scotch pine greens. Attractively trimmed with clusters of natural brown pine cones and a rich red bow made of 2 3 /4 ” wide velvet. $15.00 ea.

Live Christmas Greens Freshly Cut From The Mountains of Appalachia Handmade and decorated by experienced skilled craftspeople of the mountains. #3 MOUNTAIN KING WREATH Our most appealing and long lasting wreath made of lustrous dark green Frazier Fir. Decorated with clusters of frosted pine cones and our wide red velvet ribbon. $20.00 ea.

cut here

.

• Christian Appalachian Project ♦ 322 Crab Orchard Road i p Lancaster, Ky. 40446

; Fill out and return with your donation—PLEASE PRINT ; Please indicate TOTAL number and type of wreath desired in space below. ; Number & Type Wreath Desired: #1_____ #2______#3______ ★ Production Starts Nov. 8th

I Total Number of Wreaths Wanted_____ : Amount Additional Donation _______ I • Total Amount Enclosed_____________ 3\ " : YOUR N am e________________________________________________ ; Phone . ; Address 1 C ity __

★ First Shipping Date Nov. 26th ★

Give Street Address Rather Than Post Office Box Number.

_____________ S tate______________Z ip _________

♦ • • • * • • « f *:

.|

Last Shipping Date Dec. 14th

The Mountain Spirit ^

Christian Appalachian Project Lancaster, Kentucky 40446

n o n -p r o f i t o r g a n i z a t i o n

U .S. POSTAGE p a id

Christian Appalachian Project