The Mountain Spirit - Jan./Feb. 1983

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The Mountain Spirit The Magazine o f the Christian Appalachian Project

The Mountain Spirit

Contents

The Magazine o f the Christian Appalachian Project January-February 1983 Volume II, No. 1

From Our President............................................................... 3 Features: Special Report: Christian Education in Appalachia................................ 5 Two Women, a Few Poems, and G o d ................................6 In Order to Promote the Cause of C hrist.........................12 One Room Schoolhouse D ays..........................................24 Departments: L etters..................................................................................4 Appalachian Arts and C ulture..........................................10 The CAP Closeup............................................................. 16 Around the P ro ject........................................................... 19 News of Our Neighbors..................................................... 20 Editorial ............................................................................ 23

Editor-in-Chief.................................................. Rev. Ralph Beiting Editor................................................................... r Kenton Craven Associate Editor..................................................Margaret Gabriel Graphics Coordinator.....................................Phyllis Underwood Advisory Board-----Mike McLaughlin, Bill Begley, Ed Wardle 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. Member, Catholic Press Association. The Christian Appalachian Project is a non-profit Christian service organization operation throughout Eastern Kentucky. We rely on private donations for over 99% o f our funding. The Project operates on the philosophy that “ helping people help themselves” is the best approach to Appalachian poverty.

The January-February Theme The history of Appalachia is a treasure trove of stories. In this issue, we take a look at the story of Christian education in Appalachia—and the history of some of its most famous founders and pioneers. On the COVER (photo courtesy of Berea College), an old banner advertises Berea College (see “ In Order to Promote the Cause of Christ. . .” —p. 12). On the BACK COVER, a winter sunset in Madison County (photo by Craven). BELOW, some folks you’ll be meeting in this issue. Our special thanks to all the schools and persons who lent us photographs, or who permitted their photos to be taken!

Mrs. Ida Abney

Professor John Rogers

Dr. June Buchanan

From Our President

w 2 < O CQ

Father Beiting inspects the property for the Christian School in Floyd County

For generations Eastern Kentucky and its people have been charac­ terized by certain symbols. The “ still” and its clandestine fire fur­ nished the liquid that quenched the thirst of hardy hillbillies. A dirt road twisting through the woods leads to a creek or small river where a swinging bridge takes you ever so excitingly to the other side. There is the country store, the pot bellied stove with a group of fiddle, banjo and guitar players making the toe-tappingest music you ever heard. There is the log cabin or oak planked shack perched on a hillside with children playing in the yard and the creek below while a brace of coon dogs sleeps content in the noon day sun. The matriarchs of the clan gather inside to quilt and discuss the news of the valley while their husbands sit on the porch and whit­ tle cedar sticks until the curls cover their ankles. Coal trucks driving at a maddening speed over roads already crumbling beneath their weight carry coal from the scarred face of the mountains to an immense tipple where the coal is loaded on a train and sent on its way to fuel a waiting nation. Rightly or wrongly, these symbols have stood for our Appalachian land and its people. There is, however, another symbol that has been present in Appalachia almost from the very beginning and yet it receives almost no attention even January-February 1983

today. That symbol is the Christian school. The first two schools in Kentucky were established at Boonesborough and Harrodsburg and both of them were established by private citizens and taught by deeply religious people. The very first college in all of Kentucky was Transylvania in Lexington, brought into existence by the Christian Church. Today, we hear a great deal about the establishment of Christian schools all over the nation. Con­ troversy, however, surrounds many of them. Their critics claim they have come into existence to avoid racial integration or simply as a protest to the drugs, lack of discipline and learning in some of the public schools. Whatever the merit of these charges may be, the Christian schools in the mountains have been of a different origin. By and large, the Christian,moun­ tain schools have been the forerun­ ners. They were there before the public school system was dreamed about or possible. Berea College with its foundation school, Alice Lloyd College at Pippa Passes, Hindman Settlement School, Red Bird Mission and the Oneida Baptist Institute, to mention but a few, were pioneers and set the standard for all subsequent education. Most of the Christian schools that followed them were not reactions to the sup­ posed deficiencies of the public

schools; they were contributing elements to education and in­ dividual development that were and are not now possible because of the restrictions put on the public schools. The mountain Christian schools after a period of decline are now showing renewed signs of growth. A new vitality is abroad that seeks to involve the family more completely in the educational process. The religious input is becoming less denominational and more suppor­ tive of all faiths. The excitement of learning is being aroused at an early age in the 3, 4 and 5 year olds. The spirit of the new mountain Christian school is not one of criticism of the public school system. It is an alternative form of religious and secular learning that forms a partnership within the public school system to give an op­ portunity to the citizens of the mountains for the best possible in education. It is high time the mountain Christian schools are given credit for their religious input to the history of education and for their ever increasing contributions today. Because of them, all education will be a little better. Because of them, parents can have a greater role in education. Because of them, the spirit of American freedom has another friend. 3

Letters Editor: Your magazines are very en­ couraging to me. I love seeing how your Appalachian neighbors all help one another out. Our TV news coverage is so negative, it’s a relief to know people still do care and love one another. God bless you in all your work! Carol A . Holmes Mountain Center, CA

Editor: I have received my copies of your magazine, The Mountain Spirit, for July-August and September-October. I enjoyed reading them. It really is nice to hear from persons who are going here and there; their reports are more interesting than just news. It’s more like a book, and I love to hear of fine work like yours, what you people do every day, with kindness. Thanks again. Mrs. Olive Hartman Philadelphia, PA

Editor: Just a note to say how much I en­ joy The Mountain Spirit. It is my favorite magazine because it is about real people, their lives, their struggles, their joys and sorrows. I especially enjoyed reading the articles, “ Poverty and Christian Community” and “ Uncle Peter and Old Times on the Big Sandy,” for both were very interesting and heart-touching (see The Mountain Spirit, September-October 1982). I am not a Catholic. I am a mem­ ber of the Lutheran Church but I have a great admiration for the work Reverend Beiting is doing. He is a wonderful person, and I like to help CAP whenever I can. Esther W. Ziegler Rayersford, PA 4

We are happy to receive the sup­ p o rt o f Christians fro m all denominations. Without that broad support, we could not continue to exist. Thank you!—Eds.

Editor: Have received only two issues of your magazine so far, and I’ve cer­ tainly enjoyed reading them! Won­ derful article about Mother Theresa, with great pictures! Since many of your workers are volunteers, how about a volunteer recognition column on a regular basis—you’re probably already doing that and I don’t realize it (not a subscriber long enough). I’m looking forward to many more interesting articles in future issues of The Mountain Spirit. Marguerite Reynolds Louisville, K Y We will devote a fu ll issue to volunteers in 1983. Also, The CAP Closeup focuses on volunteers as well as full time staff, and on exvolunteers who have become full time employees. But we promise to keep our eyes on the volun­ teers!—Eds.

Editor: . . . I’m sorry to be so slow in an­ swering your letter, Rev. Beiting, but at 87 years of age, I’m not so swift anymore like I used to be and especially when we’ve had some terrible hot weather, when it was just too hot for us old people to do anything but sit and read, and that is what I did those hot days—enjoy your Mountain Spirit magazine. I thoroughly enjoyed your interview (see The Mountain Spirit, Septem­ ber-October), for your answers all hit the nail right on the head. You are telling the truth about too many

youths as well as older groups of people who just sit and watch TV that gives them a lot of destructive ideas . . . . I also understand from a minister that there are more and more private “Christian schools’’ springing up all over America, and how glad I am that Rev. Beiting is starting one too (see inside back cover)—that is really Good News, the best ever we need to hear, after what our public schools have been dishing out to us over these past three decades—that has been aw ful. So I am all out of 100% for all these kinds of projects like yours, and the Portland Rescue Mission, to help all these lost souls back to lead a good life that God wants them to have, and this is the very reason that I pray (for both projects), for prayers do help to change things, and all such people need to be changed . . . . Lena Michoux Portland, OR Amen!—Eds.

Editor: Thank you for sending me The Mountain Spirit. I’ve read all of it already and really enjoyed it. It reminded me of my year (last) with CAP in Somerset. I may not be in Appalachia this year, but I am surely doing all I can to help people know about the fine work done with you all. I am now sending you a list of people who would like to buy some of your Christmas Greens. Sister Cecilia Levesque, S. U. S. C. Lawrence, MA

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

The Mountain Spirit

Special Report: Christian Education in Appalachia

According to figures released by the U. S. Census Bureau in late Oc­ tober, 1982, only 53.1% of Ken­ tucky residents over the age of 25 have received a high school education. That means that Ken­ tucky has slipped to 50th place among the states, after Mississippi. Part of the explanation for Ken­ tucky’s poor showing may be found in the large, eastern, block of Ap­ palachian counties, which have lacked in quality education. Accor­ ding to the Appalachian Studies Center at the University of Ken­ tucky: Our research at the University o f Kentucky Appalachian Center suggests that many o f the state’s consistently low-scoring areas are to be found in Eastern Kentucky. It also appears that the percentage o f ninth-graders completing high school is appreciably smaller in Eastern Kentucky than in the rest o f the state. The reasons fo r these educational deficiencies are no doubt traceable to the severe, decades-long economic problems o f Appalachia. The median percentage o f economically deprived children in Eastern Kentucky in 1980-81, fo r example, was twice that fo r the remainder o f the state. There is a conventional wisdom among some groups who work in Appalachia that such deficiencies of culture should not be mentioned. But we do not see how to avoid mentioning them, and frankly, we find such a position rank hypocrisy. Appalachia has been targeted as a missionary territory by every Christian denomination for the last hundred and twenty-five years, just as it has been the target of secular agencies and government programs. The reasons are simple: the originally healthy English sub­ January-February 1983

culture of Appalachia, weakened by poverty and isolation, has been corrupted and subverted by a careless and exploitative industrial capitalism. Its only hope has always been better education for its children, and in the main, the only groups to attempt to supply that lack have been Christian missionaries. The argument that such outsiders practice a kind of cultural im­ perialism on the Appalachian native is a strong one, however, and can­ not be ignored because so often the missionary educator has failed to recognize the inherent strengths of the mountain culture—the very strengths celebrated by The Moun­ tain Spirit. And historically, only those groups have prospered here who have had the sense to come to that recognition. Cultural carpet­ baggers unaware of their own cultural limitations make for poor missionaries, and poor educators. Nevertheless, the deficiencies exist in Appalachia. That is why remedies are proposed, why schools and colleges are founded here by Christian organizations. But what I think is not often recognized is that where there is a culture which lags behind the rest of the nation in some respects, there are bound to be cer­ tain strengths promising for the true Christian educator. For who can be happy with what the parent or “ out­ side” culture has become in the last twenty years? To the extent that the mountain child has not been corrup­ ted by the madness we now see regnant in most American schools, including many a private school, to that extent is he a more promising student for the genuine Christian teacher. The establishment of a Christian school in Floyd County (see inside

See “ One Room Days,” p. 24.

Schoolhouse

back cover) by CAP can, therefore, be a very hopeful thing. The true Christian educator will recognize that Christian education, even if ecumenical in its nature, is not sim­ ply an adoption of what currently passes for education in the public sector plus a pious frosting. Rather, Christianity assumes a radically dif­ ferent concept of human nature because it sees the human person in terms of his eternal destiny. It therefore understands that each dimension of education is meant to nurture the sense, the memory, the imagination, the emotions, the will, and the intellect in relation to man’s spiritual purpose. To that end, the genuine Christian school will teach, in all its dimensions, the building of charac­ ter, and an “ abhorrence of evil,” as the English schoolmaster Thomas Arnold proposed. It will love the “ three R’s” and history and geography and science because they are good in themselves, and because they help to perfect the child, and move him toward the love of God and the hope of the Kingdom. And like all good education, it will correspondingly teach the emo­ tions—teach not only what is loveable, but what should be detested. Such an education will build, in the words of C.S. Lewis, “ men with chests” —i.e., human beings with character and moral sense. It is the prayer of The Mountain Spirit that the Mountain Christian Academy, CAP’s dream of a Christian school, will provide that high standard for m ountain youth. —RKC 5

Two Women, a Few Poems, and God by R. Kenton Craven R eality is outrageous, astonishing, if we would only look with the eyes of poets and saints, and see it as it is. When we look on things as diverse as cabbages and kings with the eyes of the Kingdom, we see miracle upon miracle, sermons in stones and angels on everything. That is one of the messages of the beatitudes in the Sermon on the Mount, and it has inspired the visions of Christian poets and philosophers for two thousand years. It is as fresh today as when it appeared in parables on mustard seeds and pearls, for Christianity, as G. K. Chesterton pointed out, is the only old religion that is always new. It is always new, because it is always giving new eyes to see through. These thoughts crossed my mind as I drove away from Caney Creek in Knott County, Ken­ tucky, after a visit to Alice Lloyd College at Pippa Passes. Appalachia, for all its bleakness and harshness, has somehow been a land that calls to visionaries and seers. Many of these, perhaps even most, retire defeated and overwhelmed. But where the seeds of their visions take root and grow, fan­ tastic things appear and blossom like orchids and mushrooms in abandoned coal mines. I first saw Alice Lloyd College at midnight when I drove through the narrow hollow of Caney Creek on my way to the Topmost Mine disaster (see The Mountain Spirit, March-April 1982). Suddenly, out of nowhere, the college was upon us, strange little old buildings and large impressive new ones, all glowing eerily through the mountain fog and mist. And just as suddenly, it was gone and there were only the walls of the hollow and the darkness of winter. The thousands of tunneled hollows of Appalachia reasserted themselves, and we blinked in wonder. T h e wonder did not diminish when I returned to look at the college again for this issue. The Miracle on Caney Creek, President of the college Jerry C. Davis called it in his book on Miss June Buchanan, co-founder of the college. I looked for the miracle in the daylight, and was not disap-

Right, Dr. June Buchanan points to one o f the modern buildings that grew from the seed planted on Caney Creek in the early part o f the century. 6

pointed. The miracle of this little college in the middle of nowhere is not only that it exists, but that it is the kind of thing that it is. Picture a mountain college, or for that matter, any college, as you would like to see it exist. That’s right, put The Mountain Spirit down for a moment, and imagine such a place. If your imagination is as tame as my own, you may not be prepared for the wild quality of Alice Lloyd College—wild, that is, in the sense of freshness and originality. What may strike you first about the patch of soil where Alice Lloyd and June Buchanan labored for nearly a century is the names one hears: the summonser, Macedonias, the Caney Childen Crusaders, the Hunger Din, the Founder’s Shack, the Eagle’s Nest, Hope Cottage, Wellesley Hall and the Harvard Building, the Firing Line (no relation to Bill Buckley), Greenfly, the Purpose Road, and the Stream of Plenty. Past and present, these names live on at that even stranger name Pippa Passes (or PippaPass, as it was once called). One “ passes” into this world of strange names from a surrounding countryside dominated by places like Mousie, Dwarf, Sassafras, Possum Trot, and Troublesome Creek. N am ing, it is said, is the first function of all true poetry. If that is the case, here is poetry in abundance, or rather, here are two kinds of poetry that clash and blend with one another in reckless abandon. But poetry names things, and there is the real miracle of Alice Lloyd College. Picture a college that takes no federal or state aid, where Kentucky mountain students from seven counties attend free of charge, where dormi­ tory students do not cohabit, where there are rules and codes and moral standards, where

students work and study hard, where drugs and alcohol are not permitted, where students of all denominations (and no denomination) are admit­ ted and permitted to practice their religion without censure, where all agree on a common purpose in education and pursue it with dedication, where the President and the Co-founder eat lunch daily with the students and faculty, and share prayer and an­ nouncements with them, where a spirit of family characterizes its challenging educational program, and where the values of self-reliance, spiritual purpose, free enterprise, and hard work are taught and encouraged without apology. T h e strange, unAppalachian names of the Alice Lloyd tradition do, then, match an equally astonishing reality perched on the mountainsides of Knott County. Here is a non-sectarian college based on Christian ethics which seeks to develop the character and minds of its students in harmony with some of the major traditions of Western and Christian culture. If the college seems to speak with a strangely discordant voice in the chorus of modern educational assumptions, that does not bother tough, single-minded Jerry Davis, the president of the college. “ In my generation, everything was wrong with America, and it was ‘do your own thing.’ I personally stand diametrically opposed to that kind of thing, and I believe it is on the wane, that we are indeed ‘get­ ting back to basics’ in America. Like many of these students at Alice Lloyd, I worked my way up from poverty, and I believe in the values that Alice Lloyd teaches. This school has flourished in the last five years, and it will continue to thrive as long as it does not depart from the traditional philosophy taught by Alice Lloyd and Miss June Buchanan.”

Miss June Buchanan in her college days.

A college that takes a firm stand on some basic assumptions is a rare thing today, indeed. But it seems that the philosophy of “ doing your own thing” has always been around, as a challenge to perennial truths. When Alice Lloyd and June Buchanan came to Caney Creek (1916 and 1919) to teach their gospel of reverence for God and ser­ vice to mankind, there was a similar attitude common in the air: it was “ do what you per­ sonally long for,” as Miss June now recalls. Op­ posed to that philosophy “ because it might hurt someone else,” Miss June taught generations of students on Caney Creek that they must form a conscience based on duty, purpose, and con­ secrated goals. That that philosophy continues seventy-five years later as the heart of a college that forms leaders for Appalachia is the true miracle of Caney Creek, the kind of miracle that civilization thrives on. When Alice Lloyd and June Buchanan, two young graduates of Radcliffe and Wellesley colleges in New England, set foot on Caney Creek, they experienced the shock of stepping backwards in time. The several bullets fired in their general direction on several occasions only punctuated a general suspicion and hostility—some believed them to be German agents. The mountaineers on Caney Creek, like Appalachia in general, had been cut off from the rest of America for over a hun­ dred and twenty-five years. Their mentality was seventeenth century, or earlier, while the women they were meeting represented the best of 19th century genteel culture. Alice Lloyd realized quickly that there was no wisdom in trying to 7

defeat the culture of the mountains by meeting it head on; according to Jeemes Akers, history professor at Alice Lloyd College, she promised not to interfere with the mountain man’s “ politics, religion, or moonshine.”

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From top down, Caney Creek Community Center in the early days; President Davis and Miss June chat with faculty at the daily luncheon in The Hunger Din. Below, left to right: President Jerry Davis reads The Mountain Spirit; Miss June greets a new student at Wellesley Hall in the early days; a modern day coed works her way through Alice Lloyd College.

Instead, the vision of Alice Lloyd emphasized those very 19th century social and ethical values which the mountaineer had not experienced in his cultural history—the duty to the world beyond the clan and the hollow, the personal obligation to grow in knowledge and ability, and the call to develop oneself in reason and morality. To ac­ complish this staggering task, Alice Lloyd and June Buchanan turned where all true educators know they must: to the children.

If England is, as G. K. Chesterton wrote, “ something wonderful—a piece of chalk,” then Alice Lloyd College is equally remarkable—a college founded by two women armed only with a few poems and God. Though Alice Lloyd has long been buried on a hillside on Caney Creek, Dr. June Buchanan, or “ Miss June” as she is known here, remains a driving force at the place where the two women’s dreams took root and thrived. From her tiny of­ fice in “ The Eagle’s Nest,” she now fondly recalls dozens of memories of the days when Caney Creek Community Center began to spread the doctrine “ that all service ranks the same with God” to hundreds of future mountain leaders. “ We never meant to start a college,” Miss June recalls. Rather it was a case of one thing leading to another—the community center, then dozens of mountain schools, then a junior college, and now a regular four year liberal arts college founded on the same generous philosophy of service. A s Miss June, the doughty co-founder, now looks back on her three quarters of a century of service on Caney Creek, she sums up the living “ miracle.” In her quiet dignity and stateliness, she moves and speaks as a Dowager Empress, a Vic­ torian Lady. More, she underlines another outrageous fact about Alice Lloyd College—it is a school founded upon poetic vision. In the fine elocution which impressed thousands of mountain children with the existence of higher things, she recites with great pleasure the poems of Browning and Kipling which formed the philosophy that made a college possible. If England is, as G. K. Chesterton wrote, “ something wonderful—a piece of chalk,” then Alice Lloyd College is equally remarkable—a college founded by two women armed only with a few poems and God. The Mountain Spirit

The Poetry

ThatMade a College

I f you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; I f you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance fo r their doubting too; I f you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about don 7 deal in lies, Or being hated don 7 give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise; I f you can dream—and not make dreams your master; I f you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; I f you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two imposters just the same; I f you can bear to hear the truth yo u ’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap fo r fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools; I f you can make one heap o f all your winnings And risk it on one turn o f pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; I f you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!’’ I f you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch; I f neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; I f alt men count with you, but none too much; I f you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth o f distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And— which is more—you ’ll be a Man, my son! —Rudyard Kipling

T he Year’s at the spring A nd day ’s at the morn; Morning’s at seven; The hillside’s dew-pearled; The Lark ’s on the wing; The snail’s on the thorn: God’s in his heaven— A ll’s right with the world! —Robert Browning “ Pippa Passes” A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich; A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong; Thou shall be served thyself by every sense O f service which thou renderest. —Elizabeth Barrett Browning A Drama o f Exile ll service ranks the same with God: I f now, as formerly he trod Paradise, his presence fills Our earth, each only as God wills Can work—God’s puppets, best and worst, Are we; there is no last nor first. Say not “a small event!’’ Why “small’’? Costs it more pain that this, ye call A “great event, ’’should come to pass, Than that? Untwine me from the mass O f deeds which make up life, one deed Power shall fall short in or exceed! —Robert Browning “ Pippa Passes”

Appalachian Arts and Culture

Earnest Shouse—Teaching the Human by M. Elaine Dillhunt

At one time Earnest Shouse thought he might go to the “ big city” and try to make good as an artist. He did, in fact, move to Chicago after he graduated from Berea College, but says, “ I was so out of place in Chicago it was pathetic.”

did, at the head of a mountain holler and Shouse thinks that gives him a definite advantage in creating a trusting, open climate in his classroom. “ He can talk to them about things like sang hoes, coal mining, and ‘possum grapes’ ” says his wife, Jeanette.

So when he was offered a teaching job in a one room school at the head of a holler in Breathitt County, he returned to his birth­ place and has been there ever since. Today he thinks of himself as a teacher first, an artist second. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He can also talk to them about his great love for the mountains and how their color, form, and texture can stimulate one’s artistic en­ deavors. “ In my classes I stress seeing, experiencing, expressing the things around you.”

He’s dedicated to the people of the mountains and gets as much joy from helping them “ see the beauty around them” as he does from being creative himself. “ I really don’t have much time for my own paintings and pottery, but that’s just fine. Mostly what I do is for demonstration for my students.” Shouse has no idea how many students he’s had in his 21 year teaching career, but he’s quick to tell you that their ages have ranged from 3 to 90. He’s proud of that and of knowing that he’s helped each of them “ in some small way” to be “ more independent and more con­ fident” by being more creative. Since 1966 Shouse has been head of the art department at Lees Junior College in Jackson, Kentucky. He’s also the full time art teacher at Breathitt County High School. Many of his students grew up, as he 10

The Shouse’s home is a perfect manifestation of that philosophy. It’s a log house, tucked back against a mountain with a view of a winding warbling creek in front. Decorating the interior are sun flower heads, mountain grasses, gourds, Earnest’s paintings of Appalachian people and scenes, Jeanette’s hand made quilts. There’s a wall hanging com­ posed of feathers, pieces of animal hide, a mask made of mountain clay, and “ just things we had around.” It was a teaching demon­ stration that turned out so well that Earnest and Jeanette wanted it in their living room. They’re humble about the beauty of their home, bragging only about the things in it that are represen­ tative of their mountain roots: his great grandmother’s wooden bread bowl, her grandmother’s hand made farming tools which hang on the walls.

Mr. Earnest Shouse Earnest and Jeanette met one summer when he was teaching art in some of the more remote Breathitt County communities under a federal program. “ It was labeled a recreation program because some of the people didn’t have any other recreational outlets. We’d meet in schools, churches, homes, sometimes front porches.” It was during his five year in­ volvement in this program that Shouse met some of his biggest teaching challenges. Often 100 people would show up for the one and a half hour class. They were male and female, young and old, talented and not so talented. Shouse conducted the classes alone and says “ it really worked me” (he was going to school all day at the time working on a Master’s degree which he received from Morehead State University). He was sorry to see the program dissolved, though, he says, and is working now to get it started again with a different funding agent. The Mountain Spirit

“ Our people here have worked hard all their lives and they don’t know about painting and pottery and good art. They know about dime store stuff and if it’s shiney and bright, you know, they buy it.’’ Shouse says he feels “ a respon­ sibility” to help educate his people “ to let them know there’s good art.” Toward that end, he not only is committed to teaching as his priority career, but he never turns down an invitation to speak at local club meetings, he volunteers his time and talent to design decorations and displays for local events, he exhibits his work at the local library and he has an annual show at Lees Junior College. The logo for this year’s centennial celebration at Lees is an Earnest Shouse original. “ The people around here just really admire and respect him,” says Jeanette. That’s why he sometimes has senior citizens in his college classes. Shouse never turns anyone away who wants to enroll in an art class. He believes they can accom­ plish something if they will just try and he enjoys encouraging them—“ getting them to think about the earth and the world around them.” There’s a practical reason, too, that Shouse likes having non­ college-age students. “ The older people have a positive influence on the young. It seems the young people concentrate more when older people are there in class with them.” It’s not hard to understand why both the young and the old like Ear­ nest Shouse. His low key manner, almost little-boy demeanor, and mountain drawl belie his mammoth energies and tremendous people orientation. When asked for a final word to close the interview, he says: “ I’d just like to say that I love people and love working with them and I’m just trying to be human.” His paintings, his teaching, his colleagues, and his friends say that Earnest Shouse is doing a good job of that. January-February 1983

Two Books by Father Beiting

Soldier o f the Revolution: A New View o f Daniel Boone. Photos, maps, illustrations. A brisk narrative of olde Kentucky. 138 pp. $3.50. Adventures o f Daniel Boone. An illustrated children’s book teaching the pioneer virtues. 32 pp. $2.00. Order either for your enjoyment, or order both and receive them for the special rate of $4.50. To order, use the envelope in the fold of the magazine. ALL PROCEEDS from the sale o f Father Belting's books now go to the building fu n d fo r the Mountain Christian Academy (see inside back cover).

TRUE OR FALSE Most people no longer need wills because o f

the new tax law. The experts say “ FA LSE!” The new Economic Recovery Act made extensive changes in the tax structure; but if you want to be certain o f how your property is distributed at your death, you still need a legal will. All 50 states have bodies o f laws which direct where your property goes if you die without a will. Unfortunately, they may not distribute it the way you’d want! detach and mail

For up-to-date information, send, without obligation, fo r your free copy o f i(The State Has Made Your Will. ” Name Address

City, State, Zip

To: Director o f Planned Giving Christian Appalachian Project. Inc. 322 Crab Orchard Road Lancaster, Kentucky 40446

Telephone ___ 11

“In Order to Promote the Cause of Christ. . .

Rev. John G. Fee

Story by Margaret Gabriel Photos courtesy o f Berea College

. . . we, the undersigned do voluntarily unite ourselves together to establish and maintain an in­ stitution of learning under the following articles of agreement. . . On July 14, 1859 this paragraph set the tone for an institution of higher learning along a ridge of Madison County, Kentucky, by a group of learn­ ed, Christian men who dreamed of establishing a college “ under an influence strictly Christian.” The school was named “ Berea College,” referring to the passage in Acts 17:10-11: “ As soon as the night came, the brothers sent Paul and Silas to Berea. When they arrived they went to the Jewish 12

synagogue. The people there were more open minded than the people in Thessalonica. They listened to the message with great eagerness and every day they studied the Scriptures to see if what Paul said was really true.” T h e open-mindedness of three men was the springboard for the institution—the common belief that slavery was wrong set Cassius Clay, John G. Fee and John Rogers on the path that would lead them to be ostracized, and persecuted, but eventually the founders of an “ anti-slavery, anti-caste, anti-rum, anti-sin” college in the wilderness of Kentucky. The Mountain Spirit

Enter Cassius Clay

I n the early 1850’s, Cassius Clay, described as “ one of the most colorful characters America has ever produced,” began to adopt the abolitionist beliefs of William Lloyd Garrison. For young Mr. Clay, an abolitionist’s stand would mean a great disruption in his life as he had known it. The son of a rich, prominent, slave-holding Kentucky family, Clay knew that his newly adopted beliefs would cut him off from his family, and would seriously hamper his political ambitions. Clay’s first cousin was the great Kentucky statesman, Henry Clay; Cassius aspired to follow his cousin’s footsteps as governor, then senator from Ken­ tucky. Clay wrestled with the question, the problems involved, and the knowledge that he would become a political and even a social out­ cast. After much soul searching, Clay chose the unpopular path and denounced slavery, em­ phasizing the evils arising from the institution, “ depression of education, m anufactures, agriculture, the fine arts, and constitutional liber­ ties as well as the encouragement pressed upon white non-slaveholding people to emigrate from Kentucky because of the low condition of their economic life and their schools.” Enter John Fee In 1854 Clay induced a young anti-slavery minded minister with a calling to work in Ken­ tucky to move to the Madison County ridge. John G. Fee temporarily left his church in Lewis Coun­ ty, Kentucky, to preach abolitionist sermons to a group of 13 people who had been gathered in the wilderness by Clay. With Clay’s promise of a farm and a home, Fee returned to Lewis County to bring his wife and children to Madison County, some 140 miles in the interior of the Kentucky Wilderness.

A s for Clay, the road to abolitionism was not easy for John Fee. He, too, was the son of a prominent slave-holder. He, too, was forced to break from his family in order to uphold the stand which he believed was his calling from God. It was during his years at Lane Seminary in Cincinnati that he began to think of slavery as sinful. In solitary prayer Fee implored, “ Lord, if need be, make me an abolitionist.” It was this prayer that shaped the remainder of Fee’s life. Shortly after the Fee family’s move to Madison County came the next step in John’s dream of freedom for all people: a one room school house which promoted the principles and philosophies of Fee and his followers. Even from its opening days in 1855, Fee dreamed of a college that would be established for all men and women, not just the white people or the free people or the rich people. January-February 1983

Cassius Clay

The one room school house that concentrated on the most rudimentary elements of education was a far cry from the college of Fee’s dream, but it was a start and it is that school house which marks the founding of Berea College. Clay versus Fee

W h ile Fee and Clay were both radically op­ posed to slavery, their m otivations and philosophies differed, and for this reason the two men had a major disagreement before very long. On July 4, 1856 a celebration was planned at Slate Lick Springs, south of Berea. It was customary for both Fee and Clay to speak at these assemblies and this one was no different. Fee rose to speak first, holding the Declaration of In­ dependence in his hands. “ All men are created free and equal,” Fee quoted, “ and endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights.” Fee’s position stated that “ any invasion of human rights is condemned by the highest judical authorities.” In conclusion Fee stated, “ a law confessedly con­ trary to the law of God ought not by human courts to be enforced.” Clay then rose to address the crowd. 1856 was an election year, and Cassius Clay had proposed a Republican ticket to replace the Whigs in Kentucky. Knowing that his 13

abolitionist views were political suicide, Clay modified his stand stating that while he believed slavery to be morally wrong, he was obliged to obey the laws of the state as well as the laws of God. He claimed, “ Mr. Fee’s position is revolutionary, insurrectionary and dangerous . . . as long as a law is on the statute book, it is to be respected and obeyed until repealed by the republican majority.” The confusion in the crowd was to be expected. Many felt that Clay was politically right and Fee was religiously right. But with this rift, Fee had lost the moral support and physical protection that had been so important to him until this time. An era of persecution

Without Clay’s support a shower of violence began to rain down upon the little settlement. Fee was persecuted physically and emotionally, and several times he was escorted by mobs out of Madison County. As difficult as life was along the ridge, now known as Berea, Fee did not seriously consider moving to another part of Eastern Ken­ tucky; he needed the support and moral courage of the people who had chosen to live there if he was to succeed at all. The little one room school house made a great stride toward its final goal with the arrival of John Rogers to the ridge in 1858. Before Rogers’ arrival, Fee had informed the American Missionary Association of the need for a college in Eastern Kentucky which would be low cost and open to any student, black or white, slave or free, with a desire for higher education. In order to secure a commission from the A.M.A. as a rural minister, Rogers and his family spent a winter in Northern Kentucky with his sister until his com­ mission was secure. From Northern Kentucky Rogers walked over 100 miles to confer with Fee about the possibilities of work on the ridge, but returned to his family somewhat disappointed because of the vagueness of Fee’s reaction to the type of work he could do. Before much time had passed, however, Rogers received a letter from Fee inviting him to move to their small community and join in their great adventure. Christian education with heart

Immediately upon their arrival, Rogers and his wife established a “ pay school,” with fifteen children enrolled. An experienced teacher, as well as an ordained minister, Rogers was well qualified as headmaster of the schoolhouse. By the term’s end in June the rolls of the school had grown from fifteen to nearly one hundred students. Professor Rogers and his wife recognized the importance of a light-hearted element to education, therefore, 14

songs and games were included in the curriculum. Rogers brought many new subjects, including geography, astronomy, and physics to the school, which for that time was considered extremely progressive in light of the usual mode of education—endless recitation of lessons and rarely any material beyond the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Although Berea was still years away from graduating its first college class in 1859, on July 14 of that year the constitution was signed by Fee, Rogers and several other community leaders. The first two by-laws clearly stated the goals of the college, which remain so today: “ The purpose of the College shall be to furnish the facilities for a thorough education to all persons of good moral character, at the least possible expense, and all the inducements and facilities for manual labor which can reasonably be supplied by the Board of Trustees shall be offered . . . . This College shall be under an influence strictly Christian and as such opposed to sectarianism, slave-holding, caste, and every other wrong institution or prac­ tice.” At the time that the constitution was signed, the persecutions of Bereans were far from over. The years of the Civil War were particularly difficult for the Fee family; in 1904 a law was passed in the state of Kentucky prohibiting the practice of biracial education. From that time until the law was amended in 1950, half the endowment of Berea College went to support institutions of higher education which had been established for black students. Through the years, however, Berea College has remained a non-denominational school with Christian principles devoted to the education of young Appalachians. Guy Adams, a CAP employee, and a 1981 graduate of Berea College says that today the spirit of the founders of Berea still prevails on campus. “ Even with state and federal grants, many mountain students still need Berea. There’s a mission attitude even today. The administration and the Board of Trustees still feel the respon­ sibility to provide low cost education for low in­ come students. There’s still a strong feeling of Christian ethics in many classes and in con­ vocations. Many of the convocations involve Christian work of some kind, through cultural events. It seems that the original principles that the founders had in mind are still in play. If they weren’t, Berea would have strayed from its original commitments a long time ago and would have become like any other liberal arts college. You can feel the difference just walking on the campus here. It’s not like any other college I’ve ever seen. Berea really is different.” CAP. The Mountain Spirit

Above, Fairchild Hall (first known as “ Ladies Hall”), which was built by student labor. The building is still in use today. Right, a Berea class picture dating back to the 1800’s. At that time over 50% of Berea’s students were black.

January-February 1983

15

The CAP

“What he said he was gonna do, he’s done, all these projects that he’s started. He said he’d help the people help themselves. H e’s done that. I think o f him as a friend, really.

Father Ralph Bei ting

Donnie Underwood See The Mountain Spirit “ The CAP Closeup” July-August 1982 “We’re middle class, but CAP gives me the op­ portunity to help people that otherwise I couldn’t help. Through Father Beiting I can do a lot o f things. ” Doris Anglin See The Mountain Spirit “ The CAP Closeup” September-October 1982 “Here’s another clown with a big idea. ”

by The CAP News Service

Gene Hensley See The Mountain Spirit “ The CAP Closeup” November-December 1982

Photos by Gabriel

For most people who have been with CAP for any length of time it is impossible to “ talk shop’’ for very long before the name of Father Ralph Beiting comes up in conversation. Even though it is not uncommon for many employees and volun­ teers to go weeks or even months at a time without seeing Father, it is always possible to sense his idealism, his spirituality, and his dreams for Ap­ palachia in the day-to-day working of the Christian Appalachian Project. When Father was a young man studying for the priesthood, he was first introduced to the moun­ tains of Eastern Kentucky through street­ preaching. Father recalls even during his seminary days a love for the mountains and her people, and says that there was a certain mystique about the eastern part of the diocese among the seminarians. “ I remember one lecture,” Father said, “ we were told that the Bishop sends the very best, the cream of the crop to Eastern Kentucky. We were told that’s where you lind the challenge, the real test ot strength! Sometime later I remember hearing that the repercussions for really bad mistakes was sim­ ple. You’d be shipped to the mountains!” After one year of ordination, at the age of 26, Father Beiting was “ shipped to the mountains” (“ the Bishop never did tell me what I did wrong,” he jokes) to become the pastor of the parishes of 16

Garrard, Rockcastle, Madison, and Jackson counties. When Father conferred with the Bishop about these counties he found, to his surprise, that there were no churches, no rectories, and in one of the counties, no Catholics. In an area “ where Catholics were about as welcome as porcupines at a balloon party,” Father says, he started out to establish church in his new home. With the help of his parents and his ten brothers and sisters, he began building churches and parishes in his counties. “ In the seminary I was taught that all people were my parishioners, not just the Catholic people, and I hadn’t been here very long before that was put to the test.” Father knew when he came to Eastern Kentucky that he was moving into an impoverished area, and felt that it was his responsibility to respond to the people who were asking for his help. Father tried to meet the physical needs of the people by helping obtain needed food and clothing, but knew that long range plans were essential. “ In 1958 we started by helping the kids. We were able to get a little bit of land by Herrington Lake and started a summer camp with six kids, two counselors, and a leanto.” From this start Father’s dream for the area even­ tually mushroomed into the Christian ApThe Mountain Spirit

palachian Project which evolved as an ecumenical organization, providing services and employment for people of all denominations and beliefs. Today CAP provides daily services in eight coun­ ties through 45 human and economic development programs, employs nearly 200 people full-time, another 250 people part time, and assists thou­ sands of people every year. In October of 1981, Father was transferred 150 miles east of Lancaster, which had been his home for 30 years, to Floyd County, to become the pastor of the parishes in Martin and Prestonsburg, and to establish a church in Salyersville, in Magof­ fin County. In the short span of a little over a year, Father has conceived big dreams for this new CAP area, which include a Christian school, and a summer camp. One beautiful fall day, The Moun­ tain Spirit traveled with Father Beiting as he went about Floyd, Magoffin, and Johnson counties looking for property, tending to needs that had been made known to him, and looking for places to begin new projects. Our first stop of the day was near Martin, at the home of Mrs. Hamilton, a lady who had made the aquaintance of volunteer, Bill Brown. Mrs. Hamilton’s husband had been hospitalized, but was coming home in the next couple of days. The construction crew in Floyd County had done weatherization in her home, but Father wanted to stop in to take her some chairs and his TV stand, in order to make her home as comfortable as possible to her husband. Next stop: one of the banks in Prestonsburg, to arrange the sale of a house in David, Kentucky, which was owned by the parish. A family had ex­ pressed an interest in the house, but couldn’t af­ ford to make a down payment. The bank agreed to allow Father to sell the house with no down payment, and to set up payments which would be easily affordable for the family. As he walked out of the bank, Father said, “ if I don’t do anything else all day I’ll feel like I’ve done a good day’s work. That family really needs that house!” During a stop at the Bureau of Surface Mining Reclamation and Enforcement, Father got hold of an interesting bit of information. Throughout Eastern Kentucky is what is known as “ orphaned land” —land that has been strip mined and never reclaimed. Father learned that it is sometimes possible to obtain this land and managed to get a list of coal companies which might be able to tell him where he could locate some. Asked what he planned to do with the land, should he get it, Father said, “ you never know when you’re going to need more land. You have to get it where you can.” One of the companies on the list was there in January-February 1983

Top, Father Beiting, Jim Churchill, and Mark Kennell chat with Mrs. Hamilton of Martin, Ken­ tucky. Left, Alice Yunker and Father Beiting make their acquaintance. Right, Father explores the possibility of a program along a ridge of Floyd County.

Prestonsburg. “ There’s no time like the present,” Father said, so we stopped to check out the possibilities of “ orphaned land.” The prospects didn’t seem too good there, but the gentleman that Father spoke with promised to check into it fur­ ther. As we left the office Father commented, “ everyone thinks that all these things just fall into my lap, but that isn’t so. It takes a lot of closed doors in your face before something comes across!” Near Jenny Wiley State Park, Father stopped to look at the site where he is planning a small camp or retreat house. It’s a beautiful spot on the side of a mountain, overlooking part of the lake in the park (“ thank God,” Father said, “ we won’t have to dig a lake here.” In Father’s mind, recreation without water is like a day without sunshine). 17

We made an unplanned detour to Our Lady of the Mountains School in Paintsville with some wildlife posters that Father had rescued from the trash at the mining office. “ Don’t you think the kids will like these .posters? It’s only twenty miles out of the way. We’ll just run over and drop them off.” With a real sense of joy and pride Father direc­ ted The Mountain Spirit to his new church in Salyersville. It’s a good sized trailer that Father renovated to suit the needs of the congregation in Magoffin County. With the help of volunteers, Bill Brown, Mark Kennell, and Jim Churchill, “ we just took down a few walls.” The trailer has a chapel at one end, a kitchen and meeting room at the other. When Father first started working on the chapel, he thought there were six Catholic families in Magoffin County, “ but there was so much publicity about the new church, that at the dedication four families showed up that we didn’t even know about!” We did a little cleaning up in the trailer, put away a few household items in the kitchen, iced down a couple of Diet Pepsis, and were on the road again, to the Dwelling Place Priory in Floyd County ( see “ Blessed are the Peacemakers,” The Mountain Spirit, NovemberDecember, 1982). There we delivered a television set for the sisters, along with a few more wildlife posters, met Sister Judy’s brother, sister-in-law, and their children, and hurried off to see the site where the bulldozing has begun for the Mountain Christian Academy.

Above, Father Beiting helps Sister Judy’s brother move their new TV set. Below, Father celebrates Mass for the sisters and volunteers in Martin.

The site of the Mountain Christian Academy

“ See, here and over there,” Father pointed out, “ they have found a couple of veins of coal. We’ll take it out, and the dirt that is removed can be used to make a couple of extra acres of flat land.” When Father first aquired the property for the Family Life Center of Appalachia in Renfro Valley, he was walking over it, describing his plans to a group of volunteers. Several commented on a beautiful creek that ran through the middle of the property. “ Yes,” Father said, “ we’re going to move that creek over there.” Reminded of that incident, Father smiled and said, “ now we’re moving mountains.” Father Ralph Beiting is a believer. He believes in God, in people and in goodness. As well as he knows his own name, he knows that “ with God we can do all things; without Him we can do nothing.” cap. The Mountain Spirit

around the project Med Wheels Roll For CAP Programs LANCASTER—CAP volunteers involved in medical transportation services in Appalachian counties received a boost on Nov. 30, 1982, when increased state cooperation and support came their way through a meeting in Lancaster at CAP’s central office. Through the new agreements, CAP’s medical transportation ser­ vices will now extend through four counties—Lincoln, Garrard, Floyd, and Lincoln—with the possibility of more counties to be added later. In­ creased Medicaid reimbursement makes it possible for CAP to operate more vehicles for this pur­ pose, and to acquire much needed fuel for the long drives between mountain counties and quality medical services in Lexington, Ky. According to Ric O’Connell, representing CAP’s programs to the state officials involved, “ the poor in Appalachia will not only benefit from our immediate services, but through our increased contact will have more input into state programs and services, and their needs will be better understood as well.’’ Such services are particularly needed in the isolated areas CAP serves, where many elderly live alone, and have poor transportation or none at all. CAP’s volunteers working in the elderly program also find a close tie-in with the medical transportation program, and often find new people to serve in this way.

by the CAP News Service

programs in the several Work Ac­ tivities Centers it now operates.

Great Pumpkin Visits CAP MAKENA, ILLINOIS—They’re growing more than giant pumpkins down in Makena, Illinois. They’re growing genuine charity. Illinois pumpkin growers take their pumpkin growing very seriously, it appears. That’s why Big Jim’s Pizza Parlor sponsors an an­ nual pumpkin growing contest for the farmers of the Makena area. On October 23, 1982, Big Jim’s announced the winner for the year: Russel H. Lauffer. The winning pumpkin (see photo this page), a whopping 177 pounds! But the story doesn’t end there. The $100 prize which Big Jim’s awarded Mr. Lauffer (also shown in photo) didn’t end up in a pizza par­ ty. Rather, it came to the desk of Rev. Ralph Beiting—a donation to the Christian Appalachian Project.

“ I hope you can use this money to help some needy people to be able to help themselves,” Mr. Lauffer wrote. “ I feel it is better to give someone an opportunity and en­ couragement than just a handout. That is what I think the Christian Appalachian Project is doing.”

Even to the Least of These LANCASTER—In the cold win­ ter months warm housing is a problem everywhere, but in CAP counties, the need is even more acute because of a lack of shelters. CAP is trying to meet this need in Lancaster by providing free or lowcost rooms at the Colonel Motel, which is owned by CAP and operated by CAP employees Lee and Beth Minor. CAP’s coordinator of emergency assistance, Peggy Gabriel, says, “ the motel doesn’t always meet the need for every homeless person, but it does give people a warm place to stay. If we can keep one family from sleeping in their car this winter, then the motel has fulfilled its goal.”

In addition, CAP carries on emergency medical transportation services in Rockcastle County through its Family Life Center Outreach Ministries. O’Connell says he hopes that additional transpor­ tation services may be provided for the handicapped who work in C A P’s partial hospitalization January-February 1983

19

tended Red Bird schools; more than 1000 have graduated from Red Bird High School. The mission has produced state legislators, school superintendents and principals, lawyers, doctors, teachers, nurses, and a lot of dedicated Christians. At the 60th anniversary celebration in 1981, the featured speaker—a graduate—said, “ Why has Red Bird endured? Because of the people. People with hope and confidence, people who have chosen Christ as their light. People who have courage and determination and most of all faith.”

Red Bird Mission. You can’t be in Eastern Kentucky long without hearing about it. People talk as if it has always been. But it hasn’t always been; the story of its birth is the story of one man’s dream and his efforts to fulfill that dream. Millard Knuckles was a storekeeper in a remote section of Bell County called Beverly. At the beginning of this century, mountain folks walked as much as five miles across Pine Mountain to trade at his store because it was their closest source of supplies. It was a general store with everything from salt to shoes. And if people couldn’t pay, “ Uncle Millard” let them have what they wanted anyway. Children especially loved him because he always had some candy in his pocket for them and a trick up his sleeve for their parents. Children followed him wherever he went and their admiration and love were reciprocated. It was his love—and concern—for children that motivat­ ed his activities toward the founding of Red Bird Mission. As Millard Knuckles watched the young people of the area grow up without any schooling, turn to moonshining or idleness or worse, he wished for a school for them. He 20

thought of having children of his own some day and he began to pray and talk about the need for a school in the Red Bird River area. And he did more than that. Being an educated man himself, he knew how to write so he started a letter writing campaign to churches in the East, the North, and the South lamenting the lack of Christian education and influence in the mountains. One story is told about a teacher from across the mountain in Hyden who walked to Beverly once a week for the Hyden mail. She heard about Mr. Knuckles’ dream and started stopping at a certain rock on top of the mountain each week to add her prayers to his. She also happened to tell her Presbyterian minister in Hyden about Millard Knuckles and his dream for Christian education for mountain children. The minister told the Evangelical Church Board and in 1919 things began to move toward what is today Red Bird Mission—a complex of schools, churches, craft programs, a hospital, and an early childhood development program. It is unlike any other institution in the country. Millard Knuckles lived to see it and to serve on its board of directors until his death in 1962.

Millard Knuckles was a model for those people. He never gave up hope that some day he’d see a Christian School in his little community. And when the Evangelical Church start­ ed expressing some interest, he was the one who fanned that interest in­ to a flame. “ So we kept writing and I explained to Dr. Niebel (Secretary of the Board of Missions of the Evangelical Church) the great need of a school and church here. I em­ phasized school work most to him as I believed that should our girls and boys be brought up in a Christian school that the tide would turn to better men and women and our community would naturally develop into more and better Christian homes” (“ The Story of Red Bird Settlement School” by M. F. Knuckles, Red Bird Notes, Vol. 1, No. 1, July, 1933).

Uncle Millard and Aunt Myrtle

More than 2500 students have at­ The Mountain Spirit

When Dr. Niebel and Bishop Maze made their first visit to Beverly, Kentucky, it was Millard and his wife, Myrtle, who hosted them. That meant seeing that they were met at the train with two mules and a guide for their journey into the mountains. It took the men 13 hours to travel 20 miles “ in mud and creek (Straight Creek) nearly all the way up.” When they arrived at the Knuckles’ home, they were welcomed with dry clothing, hot food, and a bed. The gracious hospitality of the Knuckles family was always one of the things men­ tioned in the memoirs of the missionaries to Red Bird. Mr. Knuckles’ consistent reply to the praise was, “ My first wife and I did the best we could to make them comfortable.” The whole truth is they fed, clothed, and housed many of them until they could get on their own. After their historic visit in 1920, Bishop Maze and Dr. Niebel repor­ ted to the Evangelical Church

Mission Board: “ We never saw a more real need anywhere.” The Board voted to send two teachers. Millard and his three brothers and three of his newphews donated the land. Thus, Red Bird Mission grew up directly across the creek from Millard’s store. When the time came to add a dormitory to accomodate mountain boys from across the mountain, Millard and his family donated the property. When the mission church, the hospital, and girls’ dormitory were added, it was on Knuckles land. The Knuckles family remained an integral part of the campus. Stu­ dents called Millard and his wife Uncle Millard and Aunt Myrtle. She was postmistress at Beverly for 50 years and had the reputation of being the best cook for miles around. “ I hardly ever remember sitting down for a meal without there’d be people from the mission or the community there,” says Esther Taylor, one of Millard’s two children. Daughter Jean Durham adds, “ We just felt like our Dad had

Above, Red Bird Mission teachers from around 1920. Below, Dr. Heim, the first doctor at the mission, and his family.

Millard Knuckles’ general store in Beverly, Kentucky.

January-February 1983

21

children.” The Knuckles had the first radio in the community, too, and that attracted many students and faculty to their home.

Millard and Myrtle Knuckles celebrate their golden wedding anniversary

Millard continued to support the mission financially, morally, in­ tellectually. He wrote for the newsletter, served on the Board of Directors, never missed a Sunday service, and (his daughters say) “ would never let anyone say anything against it.” In a 1935 issue of Red Bird Notes he wrote, “ I’ve seen a lot of changes in our boys and girls as a result of the school . . . . Little by little the boys and girls and the older people began to think and act differently. I have seen the boys and girls tread their way through many obstacles and difficulties and some of them have now gained the most respec­ table positions that our mountains afford.” His dream was seemingly fulfilled but he kept on dreaming. “ The school is in its infancy yet; wait another 13 years and see the changes in these mountain boys and girls and especially in our homes.” Despite his reputation for light-heartedness, Millard Knuckles was very serious about Red Bird Mission. He ends that 1935 article with: “ So here is hoping that the church will see their way clear to continue to give us their support as in the past.” An article in a 1945 issue of the Notes said, “ You cannot think of Beverly without thinking of Uncle Millard and Aunt Myrtle . . . . They know everybody far and near and take a kindly interest in everyone. If anyone has trouble of any kind the first thought is to see Uncle Millard about it.” This great leader, innovator, educator, friend, family man, and Christian died in Red Bird Mission Hospital exactly 51 years after the opening of the Red Bird Mission School for “ mountain boys and girls who deserve an education.” Let us hope that we will always be able to say, with today’s students and graduates, that you can’t think of Red Bird without thinking of Un­ cle Millard—the man who made it happen. The Mountain Spirit

A n Editorial Essay

There is a stirring in the crowd. Someone is trying to push through to the front where a man commands the center of attention. “ Hush,” someone cries. “ Keep back there,” another says impatiently. He speaks about the poor and the Kingdom of God, and much that he says bewilders the crowd. But the noise does not stop, and from the back of the crowd at a dozen points the poorest of the poor press forward: the sick, the maimed, the lame, the blind, the lepers, a man crying out for his dead daughter. The officials in the small town near the Jordan River are scandalized, and wrinkle their noses at the smells of the poor. In the hot, dusty heat of this back­ water Empire village, everything seems suddenly confusing: Who are the poor? The man at the center seems to be turning everything in the world up­ side down. “ Am I the one who is really poor?” a Pharisee asks himself silent­ ly. “ Is it a good thing to be truly poor?” a rich man mutters to his rich neighbor. “ In being so poor, I am really rich,” a poor woman rejoices in her heart. “ We are all poor in that we need God—is that what he is saying?” a young student puzzles over the strange parables. In every community on the face of the earth, there are always those who are scandalized by the mention or the show of poverty, and by the mystery of poverty which Jesus placed at the very center of His teachings about our relationship to God. Some have used his statement to Judas Iscariot, “ the poor you have always with you,” to grind out justifications for not doing anything for the poor. Conditioned as we are by the thisworldly values of man, we are very likely to be vulnerable to our own selfjustifying thought and behavior. “ I gave at the office,” a kind of perennial joke among us, suggests one kind of justification: “ I have given enough already!” “ Let someone else give this time!” “ Let the government do it.” “ Ah, the poor are better off that w ay.” There are a thousand justifications for not giving, and only one for giving: because Jesus com­ mands it. January-February 1983

But Jesus did not ask for alms only, a simple task of the Law. Rather He asks each of us to realize our own radical poverty, that we are alone and helpless without God, that we are the poor indeed, and we are called by Him to realize our essential poverty in drawing close to the divine scandalmake^ Jesus of Nazareth. But in recognizing this fundamental spiritual truth, I believe we all must confess to a great and deep fear. It is the fear of being physically and economically poor, of falling off the cliff edge of security into the nameless masses who do not look right, smell right, talk right, and eat right. We are afraid of having no medical insurance, no home, no respect, no power. That is what our materialistic culture teaches us. It teaches us the fear of having to be taken to the front of the crowd by redneck fishermen, stripped, frightened, pleading for help. In the 800th anniversary year of the birth of Francis of Assisi, “ the little poor man,” as he called himself, we can remember his powerful example in following the Lord of Creation. From a middle class family, Francis heard the gospel in his heart, and stripped himself into absolute poverty, laughing as he did so that “ poverty is my Mistress!” Francis understood a sim­ ple but awful truth: poverty cannot be liked, but it can be loved. More, he un­ derstood that “ in order to help the poor, one must become poor.” Not all of us can enter voluntary poverty with the holy zest of the little man who preached to the birds. But we can realize with him and with Peter that except for Jesus, who lived in poverty, we have no-one else to go to in this world. We have no earthly home. We cannot deceive ourselves that the gods of the television and the market­ place matter one whit in the Kingdom of God. In this world there is only the shadow of the Cross, where the poor huddle in hope of the Resurrection. Nor can we deceive ourselves that we are better than “ the poor,” or that we are “ helping the poor,” for that would deceive us even more. But we all can enter into voluntary spiritual poverty, and recognize that to be with Christ is to be poor in spirit, and in that to receive our blessing. Organizations which help the poor, like the Christian Appalachian Project, have a heavy burden to bear. In acting as the steward for others’ goods in ministering to poverty, we are subject to the temptations of power, pride, and

self-righteousness, as was Judas when he rebuked Mary Magdalene for anointing the feet of Christ with expen­ sive oils. The danger for him, and for charitable organizations generally, is that they can fall into a habit of selfaggrandizement, of regarding the poor as the means rather than the end of their existence. When they do so, they have lost their reason for being, and deserve no further support from others. Further, such organizations exist and do their work by appealing to the charity of others, as we do in CAP. In order to do that, it is necessary for them to tell the story of the poor in their letters and publications, to push the needs of the poor forward in the crowd, to the center where Jesus com­ mands and heals. As The Mountain Spirit knows, that can be an awesome and difficult responsibility. Every Christian organization that helps the poor faces it, whether they are aiding the hungry in Bangladesh or the destitute in Manhattan. When we began The Mountain Spirit in January of 1982, we knew that we faced the challenge of making a magazine that simultaneously explored and celebrated the culture of the moun­ tains, and presented to our donors the needs we try to meet in working here. What we have tried to do is take the reader to meet the people of Ap­ palachia in a respectful and reverential way, in a recognition that we are all God’s children, that we are all poor in needing God and all rich in having the possibility of living with Him forever. That is why we have tried to present each religious tradition, each cultural memory, and each event with love. Whether The Mountain Spirit fulfills its promise of presenting poverty and Appalachian culture in a thoroughly Christian way, only its readers can decide, and only God can judge. We try to guard ourselves against “ ex­ ploitation of the poor,” and we try to remember every day that we want readers who live here in the hills to say what a lady in Rockcastle County said the other day, “ I like The Mountain Spirit because it presents my people with dignity and pride.” That en­ dorsement seems to us like one worth having, and worth working for. But mindful of our place in the crowd around Jesus, we hope and pray that we shall receive the one that really counts—“ well done, thou good and faithful servant.” Without that hope, we are all poor indeed. —RKC 23

One Room Schoolhouse Days By Beverly Carter Sexton

T h ere is a grass covered patch of ground resting at the foot of a ragged hillside in Rock­ castle County. Sixty years ago the Bummer school house stood where the grass now grows. There isn’t any trace of it now but it is still there, un­ changed, in the memory of Ida McKinney Abney. Ida is a retired school teacher who taught the children of Rockcastle County for nearly fifty years. In the early 1920’s, when she was fresh out of school herself, she heard that the Bummer school was in need of a teacher. “ So my brother and I saddled up our mules and took off across the county to see the trustee, Mr. Will Drew.” Ida speaks in a soft voice that matches her small stature. Her eyes twinkle as she adds, “ to my joy he said I could have the school.” Mr. Drew and his family lived near the school and agreed to let her board with them for $10 a month which came out of the $50 a month salary she received as the new school teacher. She and her brother returned that day with the glad news that she had the promise of the school.

A one room schoolhouse in Eastern Ken­ tucky—no longer in use.

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“ One thing that stands out in my mind is how tired I was when I got home, because in those days women rode side saddle.” She quickly discovered that riding astride the saddle as the men did made her weekend trips home less tiring. Laughingly she says, “ when I was almost home I would put both feet on the same side of the mule to make my parents think I had ridden that way all the way The Mountain Spirit

home.” On one of her treks home she found the creek swollen from a hard rain and her path blocked by a swirl of muddy water. Trusting her mule’s ability to swim, she lifted her feet from the stirrups, held tightly to the saddle, and plunged in. To her good fortune, the water wasn’t over the mule’s head; the mule walked to the other side, leaving her safe and dry upon its back. T h e Bummer schoolhouse wasn’t a log building as many were, she remembers. ‘‘It was a weather boarded house badly in need of paint. It was terrible to look at . . . there was hardly a board that could be reached that wasn’t carved on, written on, or half of the board gone.” The inside walls were in the same shape and the seats, the kind two children could sit on, were in as bad a condition as the walls. Her biggest disappointment came on the first day of school when she asked the students to get out their books. “ To my sorrow there wasn’t one-third enough books in that room for each child to have a book.” It was very discouraging, “ but,” she says smiling, “ a great thing happened in 1928. Governor Flemming D. Sampson made it possible for the elementary school children to have free text books.” It is hard to imagine now with our fully equipped schools and our children possessing all the necessary pen­ cils, books, and paper, the children of that time with their black stone slates, or the lucky few with tattered sheets of paper and a book they shared between them. Ida had all eight grades together in the one room of the school house. “ We would start out our day by having reading, spelling and arith­ metic.” As all grades were taught together, she would have one class at a time, such as for reading, come up front and sit on what was called the recitation bench. As each student’s time came, he or she would stand up and read in turn from one end of the recitation bench to the other. Around noon, everyone went outside, if the weather permitted, and ate what they had brought from home for lunch. Some of the children carried little tin dinner boxes while others carried their meals in lard buckets, syrup buckets, or a “ poke” as a brown paper bag was called. Lunch time lasted a leisurely hour or more and much of the time was spent playing games such as drop-thehandkerchief, or town ball. If any one was lucky enough to have a ball and bat, the time was spent playing a rowdy game of baseball. After lunch time class was called together with the ringing of a cow bell, hand bell, or the teacher “just hollering right loud.” The school year lasted seven months, beginning in July and ending in the bitter cold of winter. When the air grew chilly, the old pot bellied stove would be pulled from the corner and readied for January-February 1983

the coming weeks of ice and snow. One of the things the children loved to do during this time of the year was going into the woods and gathering pine knots. A pine knot is what is left after the pine tree has rotted. They were used to start the fire in the pot bellied stove. Ida paid a student 5C a day to start the fire in the mornings. As the days turned colder and snow began to fall upon the bare branches of the trees, fewer of the children showed up for school. Without adequate clothing or shoes to protect them from the bitter elements it was no longer possible for them to walk the long distances to school. “ There wasn’t any second hand clothing stores like we have today,” Ida explains, “ the children had to make do with what they had.” O llie Carter, a student of Ida’s during those early years at Bummer, tells how important a pair of shoes were to her. “ Until I was a grown woman I had to wear boy’s shoes, called brogans, because they lasted longer than girl’s shoes. Even then I was lucky to get a pair. I spent most of the time barefoot.” She remembers her first and only pair of girl’s shoes she owned as a child. “ They were black leather and had shiny buckles.” She wore them on her first day of school at Bummer, carefully placing them by a flagpole in the school yard while playing. When Ida rang the bell, Ollie forgot about her shoes until she was inside and Ida was speaking to the class. “ I kept raising my hand over and over but because I was so little and sitting behind some of the big kids she (Ida) couldn’t see me. Finally I just got up and went outside to get them. I really got scolded for that, but I never did tell her how important those shoes were to me.” On the last day of school, Ida had a party for the children. “ I gave them each a small bag of stick candy . . . I recall how their little eyes lit up.” W i th the school closed until the following year, Ida packed her things into the trunk in readiness to return home. Her brother arrived for her in a jolt wagon. She remembers that the rough, rocky road on the way home was muddy and slick. “ We would slide around and almost fall off the spring seat.” Ida returned to Bummer school that July and continued teaching there for nearly eight years. Her teaching career took her to many other one room schools similar to Bummer yet ended in a modern school of the 1960’s. She retired in 1967, her last year spent teaching the fourth grade at Roundstone elementary in Rockcastle County.

Beverly Carter Sexton, a native o f Rockcastle County, KY., is now a regular contributor to The Mountain Spirit. 25

School days, school days, dear old golden rule d a y s . . .

Ida McKinney Abney

Below, Mrs. Ollie Carter today. She was one of Ida’s students in the one room school at Bummer. Bottom, Ida (left, back row) and all eight grades of the Haze Grove school, another one room school where Ida taught in her long career.

Older readers, do you remember?

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The Mountain Spirit

The Mountain Christian Academy: A Dream

m :rfo*.

You can make it a reality.

C A P ’S dream is to enroll the first class o f the Mountain Christian Academy in August o f 1983. Already, the support in Floyd and surrounding counties has been generous and heartwarming. But for the school to become a reality much more help is needed! Right now, a group of dedicated people in Floyd County is working with CAP to build the necessary facilities for a school for their children. Will you help them achieve their g o a l— an ecum enical Christian school dedicated to religious

emphasis, learning excellence, family in­ volvement and sensible discipline? A lso, we hope to supplement the faculty that will be hired locally with volunteer teachers from outside the state. Do you know a teacher who might be interested in volunteering a year (or more!) o f his or her time to this exciting concept in education? Please enclose your gift in the envelope in the fold o f the magazine and help the Mountain Christian Academy become a reality.

The Mountain Spirit Christian Appalachian Project Lancaster, Kentucky 40446

NON-PROFIT ORGANIZATION U.S. POSTAGE PAID Christian Appalachian Project