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Contents From Our President..........................................................3

Features: The Death of a Mountain................................................4 Grady Stumbo: Mountain Doctor.................................16 Before the Rivers Ran Black..........................................22 Departments: Appalachian Arts and Culture........................................7 Around the P roject......................................................... 9 L etters........................................................................... 12 The CAP Closeup.......................................................... 14 Editorial........................................................................ 21

The Mountain Spirit The Magazine of the Christian Appalachian Project September-October 1983 Volume II, No. 5 Editor-in-Chief............................................. Rev. Ralph Beiting ^ i t o r .............................................................. .... Kenton Craven Associate Editor.............................................. Margaret Gabriel Graphics Coordinator.................................. Phyllis Underwood Advisory Board---- Mike McLaughlin, Bill Begley, Ed Wardle Subscriptions........................................................ Kathy Stathers Typesetting........................ Phyllis Underwood, Kathy Stathers 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 1983, The Christian Appalachian Project, Inc. All rights reserved. Member, Catholic Press Association. The Christian Appalachian Project is a non-profit Christian service organization operating throughout Eastern Kentucky. The Project operates on the philosophy that “ helping people help themselves” is the best approach to Appalachian poverty.

The September-October Theme Coal mining forms such a large part of the life of much of Appalachia that our President and Editor-in-Chief, Rev. Ralph Beiting, asked us to devote an entire issue to it. Beverly Carter Sexton looks at strip mining, Margaret Gabriel interviews Dr. Grady Stumbo in the coal-mining area along Troublesome Creek, and our editor brings Jeremiah’s Journal to a con­ clusion. We also visit an Appalachian humour festival, and we learn what’s going on in CAP these days. ON THE COVER, strip miners left this sad tree behind them (photo by Sexton). On the BACK COVER, a coal train winds up a grade in Floyd County (photo by Jordan). BELOW, a coal truck climbs a mountain in Perry County (photo by Gabriel).

From Our President

Every day I drive our mountain roads I pass giant trucks with lowboys behind them hauling bulldozers. These pieces of equip­ ment are designed to move great quantities of earth. Nine times out of ten they will strip off the surface and remove the coal that lies buried beneath.

way that the earth and its people can live together in mutual respect and support. I believe that moving great quantities of earth for the acquisition of coal can serve the long range needs of man and retain and even enhance the natural beauty of the land. It all depends on the head and the heart of man.

I must confess that I experience a moment of uneasiness as they pass. How will they leave the earth? Will its beauty be gone and the wounds last for a lifetime? It has happened that way many times before. The trees and greenery are gone, sulphur water stains the rocky hillsides and the creeks become stinking thrones of polluted water.

Anyone who has lived in the mountains of Appalachia knows the woes of acquiring suitable land for housing. For countless generations we have built our houses along the narrow benches of creek beds. Floods, dampness, respiratory diseases, and over crowding have been the result. The houses literally rot to the ground. Other hardy souls hack out a bench higher up the hill, barely large enough on which to place a trailer. The road that leads to it is steep and soon erodes. There is no place for a garden or yard. Flat land in ample supply is not available.

I realize some advocates of strip­ ping argue that one has to pay some price for the jobs, the energy, and the prosperity that coal brings. They contend that the good out measures the bad. We live in a real world and you take the bitter with the sweet. I have never found this answer quite satisfying. It appears to me we are capable of coming up with a bet­ ter solution. I sincerely believe that the technology that makes stripping possible can serve the needs of nature and man. Since the first instance of creation the earth has been in the process of change and alteration. The forces of ice and wind, rain and drought, earth­ quakes and volcanic fire have altered the face of our earth beyond our wildest surmise. Change is a constant process in our world. It cannot be stalled. Man has been en­ dowed by his Creator with the responsibility of caring for the earth. It is his duty to see to it that change and alteration take place in such a September-October 1983

Our economy is a one industry economy. Coal and its servant in­ dustry is frequently all we have. We simply do not have the land to sup­ port industries that require open spaces. Yet, unless Eastern Ken­ tucky can diversify its economic base, we shall always have the boom and bust cycle that has plagued our people for three quarters of a cen­ tury. Eastern Kentucky needs the flat land available to develop com­ munity. We have been an isolated people, held captive by tight hollows and narrow creek beds. We need land where we can gather together to shop, plan, study, and worship. The more often we meet, the better our chances to form community and develop into a genuine family.

Father Ralph Beiting

Uncovering coal can pay the price to alter the face of the earth in such a way that we have the land for bet­ ter housing. With more usable space we can begin to plan for an economy that brings in industry that supplements and broadens our coal operation. With more level land we can build better schools, larger and more economical hospitals, shop­ ping centers, recreation areas, and churches that can be of service all year long. The problem does not lie with the bulldozer or the changing of the face of the earth. Our problem is not really a problem but rather a challenge. Our machinery can give us a more desirable living environ­ ment. It is up to our heart and mind to design and carry out this change in a way that supports human life and the land as well. It has long been said that it is bet­ ter to light a candle than to curse the darkness. I believe we should lay aside the abuse and condemnation heaped on a simple operation and spend more time designing the change that will enhance our land. It can be done. I have seen it done. It is time we plan and dream and forget about cursing and finding fault.

In the early 1920’s, about the only means of making a living in Rockcastle county was farming and even that barely allowed a man to feed and clothe his family. It was during these lean years that my grandpa, Isaac Bowman, and his brother Willie, loaded up their families and sparse belongings and headed off to Perry county where the lure of better pay in the coal mines offered them a bet­ ter way of providing for their loved ones. They lived in Glowmar, a mining community centered around the Hatfield Camel Creek Coal Com­ pany. The work was hard and the pay did not enable them to live the comfortable life they had hoped for. Grandma recalls living in Glowmar very well and she has told me this story often. One day, Della, Willie’s wife, was sitting and talking to Willie when she glanced out the window and saw a white cow stand­ ing on the railroad. She told Willie to come and look. Willie looked out the window and said he didn’t see anything, that there was nothing there. Suddenly Della was seized with terror and ran out of the house screaming, “ Willie’s dead, Willie’s dead!” Willie took out after her and when he caught her, grandma said she never saw such a look of horror on a person’s face. It took all day to get her calmed down. A few days later Willie was in the mine loading coal when a slab of slate broke loose from the ceiling and fell on him. Grandpa was working in an adjacent tunnel when he got the word that Willie was bad hurt. By the time he got to Willie,

other miners had managed to get him out from under the slate. One of them told Grandpa that he had been working with Willie when the roof started to fall. He took off running and yelled at Willie to come with him, but he said as he reached safety he saw Willie just standing there smiling as the slate ceiling fell down upon him. Willie was a good Christian man and not afraid to die, but why he just stood there nobody could understand. Willie died and Grandpa never returned to the mines. He packed up his wife and kids and came back to Rockcastle county seeking solace in its then unmarred mountains. It seems at one time or another we all have left these mountains looking for a better life elsewhere. Eventually, however, we all make our way back home. There is a con­ tentment and peacefulness to be had here that can’t be found anywhere else for us. For as far back as anyone can remember, our families have lived in these mountains and they are a part of us. My roots here go back through my mother’s family and my father’s family. I suppose that is the reason that when a mountain dies a part of me dies with it. To watch the utter destruction of a lush, tree topped mountain is beyond accurate description. It is a horrible thing to witness. You hear so much about the deep mining of coal: its dangers and about the people who descend into the black belly of a mine for living. Few people realize, however, that strip mining is just as ugly and as lethal. Strip mining is the process used to extract coal that lies very near the surface.

The Death o f a Mountain Photos and Story by Beverly Carter Sexton 4

A water-filled gully—part o f what remains o f a mountain at a strip mined site near Beverly Carter Sexton’s home in Rockcastle County, Kentucky.

Bulldozers and other heavy equip­ ment uproot the trees and scrape away the earth, laying bare the coal they so diligently seek. For years I have been able to step out my back door and look out upon the beauty of God’s creation. The mountains gently rolling toward the sky present a picture unmatched by an artist’s hand. In the winter the snow clings to the bare branches of the trees creating the illusion of a winter fairy land. Spring time brings forth the red­ buds, dogwoods, and early wildflowers as the land renews itself afresh after a long slumber, then the summer sun turns the leaves green, filling out the trees that touch and entwine into a plush paradise. Autumn is possibly the most breathtaking of all, as the treetops mellow into various hues of red, yellow, and brown, causing a profusion of color. These are the same mountains where my grandpa and his father before him took their flop eared hounds and set them loose while they rested in the star lit night listening to the songs of their dogs on the trail of a red fox. These are the same mountains my father, Dale Carter, and his brother Ellis, walked as growing boys in the early hours of the morning as the dew dripped from the leaves, and they stood in silence, listening for the chattering of a grey squirrel. This is where I have taken my daughter, deep into the woods, and sat upon moss covered rocks while we watched the sun play through the treetops, feeling a closeness to God which cannot be expressed in words. This land is more than just rocks and trees and soil. It is my heritage and a living part of me and all my loved ones who are now buried beneath its rich ground. It makes no difference that land boundaries are drawn onto pieces of paper showing this section belonging to so and so and these

acres belonging to someone else. I look at the land as a whole, and whatever my eyes see is mine in all its beauty. Today I can walk out my back door and the top of one of the mountains is gone. It doesn’t exist anymore. The trees have been taken down and the earth pushed away. It is desolate in its nakedness. What has taken nature centuries to produce has taken the machines of the strip miners less than a month to destroy. Some of the mineral rights were sold off years ago by our grandfathers and great-grandfathers who never foresaw the day when the coal men really would make good their claims to the black rock that lay beneath the ground. They have come now to take that which was bought for pen­ nies years ago, and still they want more. They slap the landowner on the back in a friendly gesture, they may even offer him a chew of tobacco they conveniently have on hand. Then they tell him how his land is standing idle with no easy ac­ cess to and from the mountain. They tell him he can reap the benefits the lumber will bring from the timber he can first take down from the mountain. For the mineral rights, they offer him what seems to be a small fortune. They promise to reseed the top of the mountain in grass and he can use it as pasture land. Plus there will be the added benefit of a road and maybe even a bridge if there is a creek at the foot of the mountain. It all sounds so good and finally the landowner is persuaded to sign his name or put his mark on a legal piece of paper which cannot be broken even after all the promises have. They come with their heavy machines, some so big a man can stand in the center of a tire, and they begin the ultimate rape of the land. If the trees have not been harvested 5

previously for lumber they are now uprooted and pushed away like toothpicks. Huge rocks are no more than pebbles before the mighty machines. Tons of earth are heaved away baring the top of the mountain which lays like a raw sore beneath the hungry jaws of the bulldozers. They take out the coal by the tons, chewing and gnawing at the land like hungry dogs. The hills echo the explosive destruction taking place on the site of the strip mine. From the forest, the loud machinery emits a muted groan, as if the mountain itself were crying out in the throes of death. The coal trucks roar by into the wee hours of morning as they haul their precious cargo to the trainyard by the safety of night so as not to be penalized for being illegally overloaded. Abruptly it is over and the mountain lies quiet. The machines are gone and so are the coal men. Somewhere, in some big city, an executive of the coal company is reaping in the profits of this destruction. Maybe he is celebrating by buying his daughter a new Mercedes. Here, at home, my daughter and I climb the gully washed road to the top of the mountain and I cry. What was once a

6

home for deer, rabbits, and other wildlife is now an unsightly scar. Large basins stand filled with stagnated water. Erosion has cut down the moun­ tain side leaving trenches six feet deep and even farther across. There is no grass here, no promised pasture land, nothing except the bare, sunparched ground. The familiar songs of the birds are not heard in this place, nor is the happy chattering of a squirrel as it scurries away with an acorn. The silence is deafening. It is the silence of death. We are standing upon a dead mountain and it is hard to imagine that this ugly, scarred land before us was ever brimming with beauty and life. At times I feel seized with the premonition of advancing destruction and I want to take off run­ ning as Della did when she was warned of Willie’s death. I want to scream out at the coal people who come here from the cities. I want to tell them to stop, that they are destroying our land and our very way of life, but my protests fall upon deaf ears, for the money talks, and it is the only language they understand. So still they come, with their machines, promises, and sly smiles.

The Mountain Spirit

Appalachian Arts and Culture

Appalachian Culture & Western Culture

by R. Kenton Craven

One hot July evening, I was pleased to attend “ Laughter in Appalachia: A Festival of Appala­ chian Humour,” on the Berea College campus in Berea, Kentucky. The festival was sponsored by the Berea College Appalachian Studies Center, and organized by Loyal Jones, director of the Center. Located in the foothills of the Ken­ tucky mountains, Berea College has been recognized for over a century as a cultural centre for things Ap­ palachian, and deservedly so. Just twenty-four hours later, I also attend­ ed a performance of Shakespeare’s The Taming o f the Shrew at Pioneer Playhouse in Danville, Kentucky, where the lush country of Kentucky Bluegrass begins. The counterpoint of the two performances, and the two regions, provided some material for reflection. The Appalachian Humour Festival drew speakers and contestants from all over the Southern Highlands, mostly to spin tales, retell old tales, crack jokes, and sing humourous songs both old and new. There were a few scholarly presentations but, mercifully, these were kept separate from the real business of laughing, of which there was aplenty. Each summer Appalachia is filled to burstSeptember-October 1983

Loyal Jones (right) listens as a yarn-spinner spins at Appalachian Humour Festival in Berea.

ing with festivals, craft fairs, and conferences of all kinds aimed at celebrating Appalachian culture. These can sometimes become rather repetitive and thin, and it is to Loyal Jones’ credit that he has struck upon the vein of humour as a win­ dow on the distinctiveness of moun­ tain life. Tap the humour of a nation or region, and you have touched its soul. Loyal has a good handle on what makes Appalachians laugh. “ Basi­ cally, Appalachian humour is part of old rural humour. It is based a great deal on a Calvinistic view of life—but I mean Southern Calvin­ ism, not the old Puritan Northern version—a view that is tolerant of human nature, and sees man in a fallen state. It is comic rather than satiric, it likes to look at funny things, sometimes at pranks that are meant to deflate the ego of those who pretend to be something they’re not. It’s very earthy, but also Vic­ torian, in that it kind of edges up on joking about taboo things, like sex and religion. Its approach is gently indulgent, it can’t go too far in these areas. It will more than likely refer to the gentleman cow than to the bull. It pokes fun at the absurdities of the human condition, but mostly

it’s not mean-spirited.” As if to prove his point, Loyal’s own first story of the evening lived up to his analysis. In his soft, am­ bling drawl, Loyal spun this tale: We’ve had a lot o f missionaries in this part o f the country, and there’s a story about a missionary coming in, and he saw this fellow sitting up on his porch, and he came up and said, “Brother, are you lost?” The man said, “why no, I ’ve lived here fo r forty years. ” The missionary said, “I mean, have you found Jesus?” “7 didn’t know he was lost, ” the man replied. “I ’m here to find out if yo u ’re a Christian man, ” the exasperated missionary tried again. The man said, “no, but there’s a Bill Christian lives three or four miles over the ridge. ” Frustrated, the missionary said, “I mean, are you ready fo r the Judgemen t Day ?’’ “Well, when is it?” the man replied. The missionary answered, “well, 7

it may be next week, it may be next month. We don’t know about these things!” ‘‘Well, ” the man replied, “when you find out, whyn ’t you let me know, ’cause the old woman might want to go both days. ” As usual with regional humour, the tone and the telling have a lot to do with the effect. Delivered in a self-deprecating way, such tales, as Loyal points out, hold you in suspense. “ You’re never quite sure through the interchange who the good guys and bad guys are.” Preachers, he added, are often those who are held up for deflation, but again, almost always in a gentle way. In the freewheeling humour contests that enlivened the festival, four of the prizewinners proved Loyal right again by being preachers themselves, three of them Southern Baptists. A day later, and thirty-five miles to the West, I enjoyed watching Shakespeare under the stars after a fine Southern dinner of barbecued chicken (included in the price) at Colonel Eben Henson’s Pioneer Playhouse, now in its thirty-fourth season. Here, Lynn Balesteri as Katherina and Brian King as Petrucio gave as spirited and imaginative performances of The Taming o f The Shrew as one can see anywhere in the world—fresh, straight, unmutilated, uproariously comic Shakespeare, full of world­ making wit. And there, I thought on the drive home, is the rub. In Shakespeare’s plays, that same earthy, bold, Anglo-Saxon culture that bubbles under Appalachian humour bursts forth free happy and exultant, untempered by Calvinism or Puritanism, and uncluttered by self-deprecation (the “ aw, shucks” of country humour) or outhouse snickers. The night before, I had heard the remnants; here was the pure thing. But more. Here was the pure thing of Western Civilization, British style: the marriage of AngloSaxon wit and humour with the classical heritage of Greece and 8

Rome. That is the story of the West, the constant remating of local cultures with the general culture of Europe, realized in a hundred forms from Gothic Cathedrals to county government. If “ Appalachian culture” is ever to be more than the thin thing it often is, and avoid the barbarism Toynbee prophesied for it, it will have to overcome its seeming aversion toward the cultural legacies of the True West. It has the raw materials to do this, in native Appalachian wit. What it needs now is the will to excellence.

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around the project

by the CAP News Service

Bethany House Moves to Somerset MT. VERNON—Big changes are in the wind for Bethany House, CAP’s shelter for abused wives and their children. As of the first week of September the shelter will relocate from the Family Life Center in Rockcastle County to CAP property in Somerset, Kentucky about 35 miles from Mt. Vernon. Bethany House opened its doors in early 1980, and has served several hundred families since that time. Moe Mercier, Co-Director of Human Development is excited about the prospective move, and explained a few of the reasons why the decision was made. “ There were a number of factors involved, but one of the biggest was that there is no shelter or agency serving the needs of abused women in Pulaski County. We have been asked to ser­ vice that area with our shelter in Rockcastle County, but there is a state supported shelter in that district, and all of the available fund­ ing goes for that house. Somerset is a wide open area—and the needs there are very great.” Somerset is one of the largest population areas in Eastern Ken­ tucky, with close to 20,000 people in the county seat alone; Pulaski County is the largest county in CAP’s service area. “ We feel that in the larger population area,” Moe went on to say, “ there is a greater need, especially when you add in the needs of the border counties. We hope to address more people through more advertising of our ser­ vices, and we feel that by being in a town with a much greater population than Mt. Vernon we will be able to offer many more services and opportunities to the women who need our assistance.” The new home will be located on a piece of property which includes a child development center, used September-October 1983

Moe Merrier was the target in the dunking booth at the Sand Gap Hollow Fair on June 30 at the Family Life Center. The Fair was a benefit for Bethany House.

clothing store, and work activity center. Moe anticipates being able to place children at the shelter in the child development program, and says that the used clothing store will be of great help, because so many women leave home with just the clothes they have on. By the first week of September Moe and the shelter’s director, Mary Oakley, will be hiring two new staff members, bringing the total number to five. “ With that size staff,” Moe said, “ we will be able to run at full swing all the time, and offer the kinds of counseling and help that is needed.” Another benefit of the larger community base is the presence of a much greater range of services, from medical specialties to legal ser­ vices. While CAP does not offer these particular services in its own programming, it does have good relationships with those agencies that do. Through this cooperation with other organizations, CAP is equipped to meet more needs in times of family crisis. “ None of these factors in them­ selves compelled us to move, but adding them all together made us see that this will really be the best move for us to make.”

Needed: Christmas Angels In 1983 CAP will be distributing nearly 1000 Christmas baskets to needy families and elderly people in five counties. The baskets 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. Guy Adams, Christmas Basket Coordinator for 1983 reports that “ the money will be used to buy perishable food, gifts for the elderly, wrapping paper and other incidentals that come up. “ We want to help needy families and elderly people experience the joy of Jesus Christ, which is Christmas.” Just enclose your donation in the envelope in the fold of the magazine and mark it “ Christmas Baskets.” Anything you can send will help us to help our Appalachian friends share with 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! 9

around the project. . . continued

CAP Stalwart Bids Farewell LANCASTER—The fall of the year always brings changes and sur­ prises for CAP, some pleasant, others not so pleasant. This fall CAP will wave a fond farwell to Ric O’Connell, who has served a num­ ber of programs during his eight year commitment. “ When I first came as a volunteer I was assigned to Camp Andrew Jackson as a counselor and I ended up cooking,” Ric remembers. After that summer Ric continued his work as a volunteer, developing a wood working program in Lancaster and teaching young people who had dropped out of high school the finer techniques of cabinet making. In 1978 Ric’s service to CAP took a dramatic turn when he became in­ volved, through Father Charles Dittmeier and the Catholic Deaf Office in Louisville, in a summer camping program for the deaf. During the year that followed that first one week experience of working with deaf children and teen-agers, Ric worked on assessing the needs of the deaf and hearing impaired in the Appalachian area, and did major reconstruction work at Cliffview Lodge in Garrard County, making the facility more accessible to the physically handicapped. After a four month intensive training period in Washington, DC,

at Gallaudet College, a four year liberal arts school for deaf students, Ric returned to Kentucky, and began to involve himself, and CAP, in major programming for deaf children, deaf adults, and people with other types of handicaps as well. “ Everything I had done, up to that point I had done with my hands— cooking, carpentry,” Ric said. “ And then, suddenly, I found myself talking with my hands, as well as doing and working.” In 1981 and ’82 Ric was asked by the deaf community of Kentucky to represent them before the Kentucky State Legislature, to gain support for the passage of House Bill 34, which establised for the Common­ wealth of Kentucky its first Com­ mission for the Deaf. As chairman of the committee, Ric acted as a suc­ cessful intermediary between the deaf community and the legislative and executive offices in state gov­ ernment. In addition, he set up a statewide network aimed at building support among the general citizenry, and trained deaf citizens in generating public endorsement. Finally, Ric worked directly with the Governor’s office in defining the details of the final budget for a whole new concept in a program for the deaf. Through that experience Ric became involved with other legislation for CAP related

Ric addresses a meeting of the Kentucky Association of the Deaf in 1982. 10

programs, including nursing home reforms, and spouse abuse legislation. During this time he was made CAP’s official state government liaison, charged with making con­ tacts with members of the legislative and executive branches in Frank­ fort, and informing government of­ ficials of the work of CAP in Eastern Kentucky. “ I suppose if I had to name one thing that has been the most valuable thing to me, personally, it would have to be the association with Father Beiting, and the privilege and opportunity of sharing with him as my leader, but also sharing on a per­ sonal level with him.” In the several months before his departure, Ric has been highly in­ strumental in assisting CAP launch the Mountain Christian Academy, which will become an independent organization administered by the citizens of the Floyd County area. His work has included writing grants, keeping Frankfort posted of the progress involved, and assisting in locating alternate sources of future income for the school. “ I really feel that this work with the school was one of the most significant things that I’ve ever done with CAP. I’m happy to be a part of it. “ You carry so much of your past with you. I’m kind of excited about the application of things I’ve learned here in another setting.” Ric is planning to travel across the United States, stopping frequently to visit friends throughout the country, both those he met in Kentucky, and from his pre-CAP days. He hopes to settle in California by the first of the year. “ My aspiration, in a couple or three years, is to own my own restaurant out there, and I was thinking the other day that I might have the first restaurant that has all deaf people working in the kitchen! It’s going to be interesting to see how much of what I’ve learned here really comes to application out there.” The Mountain Spirit

around the project. . . continued

Mountain Christian Academy Readies for Opening in September MARTIN—According to Marilyn Stefanski, coordinator of the pre­ school program for the Mountain Christian Academy, the school is progressing very well toward its opening on September 12, 1983 in Floyd County, Kentucky. In early June the Board of Ad­ visors hired Judy Yunker, (see “ Blessed are the Peacemakers,” The Mountain Spirit, NovemberDecember, 1982) as Dean for the Academy. Dean Judy, as she will be

the ninth graders, with Marilyn teaching English, and Judy teaching Math and Spanish. The Academy is still looking for a part time physical education/science teacher, and depending on the outcome of a grant submitted to the Appalachian Regional Commission, would like like to hire an additional person in the adult services department. And finally, that great question of schools all across the United States: what is the emblem? It has been officially decided that they will be the Mountain Christian Academy Falcons. A store in Prestonsburg, near Martin, has begun to emblazon T-shirts with falcons for students in the MCA colors of red and gold.

Deaf Students Attend Basketball Camp ATLANTA—Seven deaf students, participants in the Christian Ap­ palachian Project/Kentucky School for the Deaf After School Program, attended the Mike Glenn Basketball Camp for the Hearing Impaired June 19 through 24.

Marilyn and Judy review plans for the Mountain Christian Academy.

called by the children, has 20 years background in education, most recently in the Floyd County system at the rural schools of Drift and Home Branch.

that it was a very worthwhile ex­ perience for the kids. “ They had a great time,” Vicki said, “ Mike Glenn’s dad is a math teacher and basketball coach for the Georgia School for the Deaf; Mike grew up with deaf kids. The kids used to in­ vite him over to play basketball, and taught him sign language, so this camp is his way of returning the favor.” Funding for the camp is provided entirely by the Mike Glenn Foun­ dation, which is supported by several major companies, including Anheiser-Busch and Mary Kay Cosmetics. During the course of the week the aspiring atheletes worked on drills and scrimmages with past and current Atlanta players, Sam Pellom, Eddie Johnson, Dominique Wilkins, Tree Rollins, and Harold Hubbard of the Harlem Globetrot­ ters.

Glenn, who plays basketball for the Atlanta Hawks of the NBA has held the camp for four years for students mainly from the Southeast region of the United States.

The last event of the week of fun and hard work was an All-Star Game which pitted the students from the camp against a group of Atlanta area All-Stars. From Ken­ tucky, Sheryl Simpson was on the winning All-Star girls’ team, and A1 McGregor was given honorable mention for the boys’ team.

Vicki Brashear and Roger McCowan, who serve as staff for the After School Program, were chaperones for the trip and reported

“ The camp was a good chance for these kids to meet talent from other states,” Vicki said, “ they made a lot of new friends.”

The contractors have assured Father Beiting that the building will be completed on schedule, and the full enrollment of 180 students grades K through nine has almost been reached. The Board has almost completed the hiring of the faculty as well. There will be four elementary school teachers, one for every two grades, and one high school teacher for the ninth grade. Judy and Marilyn Ste­ fanski will handle some subjects for September-October 1983

KSD athletes pose with Harold Hubbins (left) and Tree Rollins (right). 11

Letters Yesterday I received my first issue of your little magazine. I have read it from cover to cover and loved every word of it.

well as the interest of thousands of readers—tens of thousands. Best of luck, and do let me know when and where.

I especially enjoyed the article. “ Before the Rivers Turned Black,” as it was so historical on that part of the world and its happenings. I am anxious to receive my next issue to continue on with this old gent’s ar­ ticle.

Helen Dick Doris Auburn, AL

I am enclosing $5.00 to help out with these dear people’s needs. I know it isn’t very much by itself, but I like to spread my money around a little here and a little there, trying to help as many as I can along with the aid you receive from other donors. May the Lord triple the valuation of the money you receive, and I know He will if you use it for people for whom it is being sent. Thank you again for the lovely magazine and I shall pass it on for others to read also.

I appreciate and enjoy your magazine Mountain Spirit. I trust you to use my donation wherever it’s most needed. The lives I read about warm me. These folks are in­ spiring and deserve encouragement and help.

You are doing a magnificent job editing the magazine. Your Journal o f Jeremiah Turlin is impressively well written, and I am sure you plan to publish it as a book. It should have the admiration of the critics as 12

John Senior University o f Kansas Lawrence, KS

May God bless and further your fine work. Doris Templeton Sumner, WA

Gladys A. Stuart Oildale, CA

Jeremiah Turlin

Casper, Wyoming, in your moving editorial and to read the good review of the new children’s book on science and poetry, For the Beauty o f the Earth, written by some young heroes of mine in Kan­ sas with a similar sense of spirit and reality, who combine teaching with subsistence farming, both on Christian principles, as husbandmen, helping to make the land and the minds of children fruitful as a husband does loving his wife. So thanks for The Mountain Spirit and let me add its editor to the list of heroes for his good work.

Kentucky is a real place. I know because as a young fellow during the War, curled up on an old plush seat on the Louisville and Nashville, I awoke not sure if it was a dream or real. There was water against the window. Someone screamed, “ We’re drowning!” Everyone rushed to the doors, scrambling over the topsy-turvy seatbacks. Weeks of rain had washed the road­ bed out. The engineer and fireman, ghastly white, already dead, lay trapped in the steel wreckage. Rain still falling everywhere. And then, through the mist, the late afternoon sun. The hills. Birds celebrating some secret mystery in this violent beauty—life, death, sacrifice. So, yes, Kentucky is a real place and a spirit, too, as your fine publication testifies. Of course it hit me with a pleasant blush to find my name linked with that of an old friend and hero, Bob Lange, the Socratic bookseller of

I had intended to cancel my sub­ scription—I had to cut costs somewhere. But after reading an editorial and a book review by Dr. Ken Craven, I changed my mind. He writes beautifully and with in­ spiration. In fact the last two issues have shown a definite upgrade in quality. I’m looking forward to the third part of Craven’s Journal of Jeremiah. Ruth C. Peabody Sunnyside, WA

Thank you for sending me the Mountain Spirit, I will try to help people help themselves in the pover­ ty-ridden hills and hollows of Ap­ palachia. I don’t make much as a nurse’s aide where I work, but I love to help other people who are less fortunate than me. It does my heart good if I can do something for other people. Take care of yourself, and keep up the good work. Mrs. Judy Horton The Mountain Spirit

Have just read the July-August issue of The Mountain Spirit and really enjoy it much so, as per usual. I do plan also to share each issue with friends and of course leave it in my church lobby, especially this most recent one. I’ve never been over as far as Ken­ tucky. I’m one of those rare prune pickers from California, been here most of my life, except for my Army tour ’39 through ’43. I have been only as far south as Missouri. My dad was born and raised in Texas, I haven’t ever been there. I’m of course retired and a senior citizen and now beginning to get out and enjoy myself on a few little trips here and there, around to see friends and renew acquaintances, etc.

Also, your article on Thomas Henry Paul Conlon, entitled “ Thought I’d Never Get Out ’a This Holler,” will remain in my memory as one of the most beautiful I have ever read. I was saddened to hear of Tom’s death recently, for I’m sure he was a ”joy and inspiration” to all of you, just as your story about him was to me.

YOU CAN USE THIS MAGAZINE TO WRAP YOUR POTATOES IN

Keep up the good work, and thank you all for bringing these Beautiful People into my life by way of your magazine. Joanne Weigand Pittsburgh, PA

God bless you and yours, one and all!!! DonH. Whitley Bell, CA

If you want to. Most of our readers like to keep them around to show friends or to reread. Some cut out photos they like and put them on their refrigerators so they can be close to our Appalachian friends.

Your most recent issue of The Mountain Spirit was very good, well-written, well-printed, good layout and good reading! I showed my copy around and finally gave it away. If you have extras, could you possibly send me a replacement?

But would you, could you, pass your copy to a friend who might enjoy us so much they’ll subscribe?

Mary Parker Los A lamos, NM

I would like to thank Father Beiting and all the wonderful people with your magazine, The Mountain Spirit, for all the enjoyment I receive while reading each issue from cover to cover! A special thanks to my sister-inlaw, Kathy Weigand, a CAP em­ ployee, for the gift subscription she sent us, thereby acquainting my family with the beautiful people of Appalachia. We especially enjoyed the picture of Kathy hugging one of her special “ little folk” from the Day Care Center, which appeard in the MayJune issue. September-October 1983

Henry Paul Conlon

Letters to the editor are welcome.

They should not exceed 150 words in length, and we reserve the right to edit them fo r space. Address letters to The Mountain Spirit, Christian Appalachian Project, 322 Crab Or­ chard Road, Lancaster, Kentucky 40446.

IF YOU DO, tell us, and we’ll send you another copy o f this issue (don’t use back issues—we may be out of them!). Just write Kathy Stathers, Circulation, The Mountain Spirit, Christian Appalachian Project, 322 Crab Orchard Road, Lan­ caster, KY 40446. And then you’ll have something else to wrap your potatoes in! 13

The CAP Closeup

p3*.Jver wonder what happens to the donations and letters you so kindly send to the Christian Appalachian Project? Like all charitable organizations, CAP must handle a great volume of mail from all over the nation. First stop: “ the Caging Room,” where all the mail is opened, sort­ ed, and processed for all departments and programs. From there, it passes to the people who need to respond to what you have written, and of course, to the inevitable computer room.

management position, which is very rare in rural Kentucky. “ I feel really good about this, I feel it’s an honor, and I feel like a pioneer.” The honor came suddenly. “ One day my supervisor came in and said he was leaving. ‘You’re in charge,’ he told me, and I was scared to death. I didn’t know anything about supervising anybody. I feel I have come a long way since then, and I enjoy it now. But it’s been a long, hard road for me.”

But the first stop is critical, for here deft hands and experienced eyes must insure that your gifts, comments, questions, or complaints are properly recorded and correctly routed. And here, to be sure, every penny must be counted, pigeonholed to its budgetary destination, totaled, balanced,

During Mary Frances’ time at CAP, she has seen the organization grow. “ It’s much better now—better working conditions, more things to work with. We used to have to borrow adding machines elsewhere, and now we have more room to work.” Together with Georgia Phillips, the

Mary Frances Leavell

“Sharp Lady in a Tough Job ” and deposited in local banks. Without this kind of work, CAP cannot continue to operate its forty plus programs in Eastern Kentucky. For these reasons, supervising the Caging Room is a top security, high responsibility position. That position has been capably filled for the last ten years by Mary Frances Leavell, who has served CAP for more than twelve years in handling in­ coming mail. “ I started opening mail for CAP in 1971, when the offices were still in ‘the yellow house,’” says Mary Francis, “ and I am the longest time employee in this department. Here we have handled millions of pieces of mail over the years, and we feel it to be a very big respon­ sibility.” The descendant of a great grandfather who worked as a slave on one of the many plantations around the Lancaster area, Mary Frances now holds the distinction of being a black woman in a

by the CAP News Service 14

The Mountain Spirit

Gabriel

Mary always gets us through.” Ac­ cording to Bill Begley, Director of Development and Mary’s super­ visor, ‘‘she is a dedicated employee and a wonderful person. Mary will do whatever is necessary to get the job done. I think of Mary first as a friend, then as an employee.” ‘‘CAP is a very interesting organization, and I have great respect for it. I enjoy working here. We have our ups and down, but we get along pretty good for eight people locked in one room all day,” Mary Frances laughs. When you send your next letter or donation, why not include a special note of hello for Mary and the “ girls” who make the Caging Room—and CAP—work? cap. Mary Frances and Assistant Caging Room Supervisor, Georgia Phillips (Mary calls her “ the organizer” ), review their day’s work before they report to the Development Office and go home.

Assistant Caging Room Supervisor (Mary Frances calls her “ the organizer” ), Mary Frances super­ vises six employees who actually open the mail. Since programs and procedures constantly change, these ladies are subject to great pressure in accuracy and speed. Also, because they must remain in the Caging Room eight or more hours a day and work closely with each other, quality supervision is crucial to staff harmony.

Mary Frances consults with long time Caging Room employee Lucy Ballew on a column of figures.

“ We don’t allow gum popping or smacking—that’s too much disturbance,” Mary Frances smiles, “ but we do have quite a reputation for eating a lot outside work hours and on breaks. One of the worst things that ever hap­ pened to us was when we were all nearly run over trying to cross the street to a restaurant! Yes, we laugh a lot, and we work hard. I think we get along better than any department in CAP. They’re a great bunch of girls to work with. I really feel blessed. I wouldn’t be able to do it without Georgia and such fine girls to help me. I really feel they carry a lot for me, and that it comes from the heart. Not everyone can work in such a demand­ ing situation, but they always come through.” “ She is the most caring person that I have ever met, really—wonderful to work with, very patient and knowledgeable,” reports Georgia. “ Some­ times we have to work nine or ten hours a day, but September-October 1983

15

Craven

When John Y. Brown, Jr. was elected governor o f Kentucky in 1979, he appointed Dr. Grady Stumbo to a key position in his ad­ ministration, as Secretary o f the Cabinet fo r Human Resources. A native o f McDowell, Kentucky in Floyd County, and the son o f a coal miner, Dr. Stumbo is a graduate o f Alice Lloyd College (see “Two Women, a Few Poems, and God, ” The Mountain Spirit, JanuaryFebruary, 1983) and the University o f Kentucky College o f Medicine. In 1981 Dr. Stumbo resigned from the Cabinet fo r Human Resources, and in 1983 campaigned fo r the Democratic nomination fo r gover­ nor o f Kentucky. Although he narrowly missed winning the nomination, he brought to the foreground o f Kentucky politics many o f the problems facing Eastern Kentucky, and offered viable solutions to many o f them. The Mountain Spirit was able to chat with Dr. Stumbo one summer afternoon after he finished seeing patients at his clinic near Troublesome Creek in Knott Coun­ ty. The Troublesome Creek area was made famous by James Still, author o f River of Earth. During the course o f our conversation Dr. Stumbo aired his views on mining and economy, education, family, Alice Lloyd College, and a number o f other issues. Following are highlights from the interview.

Grady Stumbo Mountain Doctor Interview by Margaret Gabriel CAP News Service

16

The Mountain Spirit

THE MOUNTAIN SPIRIT: You grew up in a culture that does not place a great premium on higher education. What influenced you to go to college? DR. STUMBO: Sometimes it would be nice if you could look back and say, “ these five things caused me to want to go to college.” My father died when I was 13 years old. I had a mother who was an ab­ solute jewel, who insisted on reading and insisted on performance. A very strong mother, pushing me to do certain things and, still, I didn’t do all that well academically. It was too easy to be on the ball team, and just make it. But I went to Alice Lloyd College, and there, really, I think, decided that I had to make a decision, “ what do I want to do with my life?” I decided that I wanted to go on and from there they helped me financially. I think it’s really the influence of my mother and all my family. My uncles, grandparents, who were willing to make certain sacrifices for me to go on. I would come home, maybe, once a month, and my grandfather would give me a little money to do certain things. It was everybody pitching in. My graduating from medical school was a big, big event in my family. Almost all of my uncles and family were there. MS: So many young Appalachians leave this area after they get their education. What prompted you to come back to the area? DR. STUMBO: When I got out of school in 1971, Knott County was a critical county for doctors. It only had two [the population of Knott County is about 16,000—ED]. Floyd and Perry counties, although having problems, were better off. I chose to come here, primarily because it was a critical county, and Alice Lloyd College was here. The general plan, really, was for me to put the clinic on the college campus, near the college. We ended up not being able to get property, and I had to come over here, about five miles away.

No matter how bad off you are, there’s something you’ve got to offer to somebody else. I don’t think anybody talks about it anymore. MS: What do you feel might be used as a unifying strand for Eastern Kentuckians? DR. STUMBO: Religion sometimes can be the thing that brings people together, but too often, in East Kentucky, we see religion as an old folks’ or woman’s responsibility. It’s a terrible mistake for us. Many of the most productive males, par­ ticularly in East Kentucky, would tell you straight out that religion is a woman’s or old folks’ responsibility. It’s a terrible tragedy, and there you get back to commitment, responsibility, and obligation. Something beyond just taking and never giving. MS: What about people who have had success in Eastern Kentucky? DR. STUMBO: Look at the East Kentuckians that have gotten rich from coal. Now they’re not outsiders. They’re born and raised here. Where do they move to? Lexington. Do they invest in Hazard, Prestonsburg? No! They invest in motels in Lexington. I think Harry Caudill is right. I think if you read Night Comes to The Cumberlands (1962) he clearly paints the blame with the outsider for the problems of East Kentuckians. If you read his works now, our one problem is the East Ken­ tuckian. It isn’t the outsider anymore. We are our own worst enemies sometimes. MS: Many writers, and other people have tagged the Appalachian people as being “ fatalistic.” Do you find that to be true? DR. STUMBO: People smarter than me keep writing that that is a characteristic and I think if

MS: Years ago, there was an emphasis placed on getting an education, and coming back to Ap­ palachia to make a contribution. Are we getting that now, or do we have “ brain drain” going on? DR. STUMBO: Well, I think East Kentucky cer­ tainly is “ brain drained.” I think we’ve had a lot of very bright people who’ve left and gone elsewhere and have been an outstanding success in almost all fields. I’ll be honest with you, and tell you that other than a few bright souls who go around carrying a torch of service, commitment, dedication, being responsible, I don’t hear a whole lot of it. At Alice Lloyd College, you know, you could not go through a day without somebody talking about your broader responsibilities to God, your broader responsibilities to your coun­ try, and your broader responsibilities to society. September-October 1983

17

you talk to a great many miners, you will hear one of two things. At times they will talk to you about “ how dangerous the mine is,” but on the other hand, they will talk “ what other choice did I have?” or “ yeah, I realize that you could get hurt, but you could get hurt doing lots of other things.” I think if you look at the United Mine Workers, they have consistently advocated mine safety as a Number One priority. It has not been accom­ plished, but I think the union itself recognized the legitimate dangers. They have tried to correct them and they realize. I think it’s just not the fatalistic thing. How are they going to feed a family? This is their economics. Certainly, a lot of people say that the East Kentuckian is fatalistic. I don’t really agree with that. I think a real dilemma for us now in the later part of the 20th century is, we’re caught between persistence and change. We don’t really know where to go. MS: Explain a little about what you mean by “ persistence and change.” DR. STUMBO: Appalachia and East Kentucky, from my eyes as being a young boy that grew up here, is best characterized by persistence and change. You’ve got $100,000 homes against $500 shacks. You know, nice homes and trash heaps. Small dilapidated, poorly air conditioned schools, and modern, consolidated schools. It’s my generation that’s seeing all that come. It’s a land of contrast. It has been since ’57, well I’d say ’60. It certainly has been a land of contrast since ’60. When Kennedy and Johnson came here, the con­ trast was magnified. In my early boyhood if you went to Detroit, and a lot of Appalachians did, there was a shock there. There was a certain amount of cultural shock. In many ways an East Kentuckian today, going from, say, the head of Copper Creek or Stinking Creek, to Pikeville, can have as much a cultural and prejudice shock of town folks against country folks. You didn’t have that when I was a young boy growing up. We were all poor back then. It didn’t matter whether you lived at the county seat or in the county, we were all poor. But, you know, it’s a land of contrast now, and for about the last six or seven years, the Appalachian can become a migrant in his own land. You used to have to go to Detroit or Cleveland. You don’t have to do that anymore. The cultural shock for somebody 50 or 60 years old who has always lived up in some rural area in Pike County, and now comes down to the brand new senior citizen high rise in town, they’ve never lived like that before. There’s a lot of old ways, a lot of good, old time ways in Kentucky. They ought to be preserved, but we have not been able to get organized to figure out a way to do it. 18

MS: What do you figure it will take? DR. STUMBO: Well, I think the first things we’ve got to do is have economic parity, economic opportunity. That should not exclude coal mining, but certainly should be other opportunities, other than coal mining. East Kentucky has got to view itself as a region. It’s got to set some priorities and have some expectations that go beyond just making it with coal. Coal is the wealth and the wealth from coal is going to have to be invested in better job opportunities. We cannot wait for somebody else to come from the outside to do it. I support the mining of coal. I think it can be mined responsibly and safely. I think much of what has gone on in the past doesn’t need to go on and should not be allowed to go on. But at the same time, I think that the mining industry as a whole has taken a lot out of Eastern Kentucky, and not returned in terms of quality of life. I think U.S. Steel, Beth-Elkhorn, Sun Oil, and companies like that have not, in fact, involved themselves with this area as a community, as a business cor­ poration having some responsibility for its com­ munity. MS: Of the companies operating mines in this area, how many are locally owned, and how many of them have absentee owners? DR. STUMBO: The majority of them now, are operated by people who are local, or who have been sent in, but the ownership of the mine or the ownership of the mineral, I’d say 85% of mineral ownership is foreign owned. What they do is form a land holding company, and then they just come into local operators, and sublease to you. They don’t have any of the responsibilities to put the mines up, no taxing liabilities for unemployment, or any of the other things. They’re making you take all the risks in terms of mining, and they take their cut off the top, so it’s a very profitable business. I think we’ve got to take coal, and we’ve got to try to do the best we can do. This area cannot sur­ vive economically without coal, and what we’ve got to try to do is to use it as the bridge that is going to build us a future. MS: What are the realities involved in building that bridge? DR. STUMBO: The economic realities of Southeast Kentucky are such that we have not got a diverse economy. We have no other way to generate the initial dollars and coal is the source. I think what’s been lacking is that the state has not developed a policy on Kentucky’s energy re­ sources. Without that, without a long term look, I think we’re going to just continue going from hand to mouth. It’s booms and busts. What we The Mountain Spirit

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/ want my children to grow up in a rural area, preferably East Kentucky. I am somewhat o f a romantic about it. Realizing that there’s nothing romantic about an open coal grate stove, like we had at home, but you can kind o f look back and say, “it wasn’t all that bad, in a way.” It was lousy, quite frankly, but you know, you can philosophize about it with your children, and 1 want them to grow up and experience that.

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I think you get generalizations if you ask an East Kentuckian “how do you feel about outsiders?” The majority would say “we don’t need, we don’t want them. We don’t need those do-gooders.” Now, if you bring it down to a specific organization, or person, they view them differently. Like, “do you like Alice Lloyd College?” “Now, wait a minute, that’s different.” As a general statement, I think there are meddlers, and what happened was, I think, a lot o f people got turned o ff

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It really was the pushing and motivation o f my mother. She had to go to work as a cook at the hospital and being the oldest one in the family, it bothered me to see her working the way she had to do. We just barely stayed above water.

My job is to try to help create a better life. Whether it’s fo r you or your children or mine safety. I f I can articulate or voice a cause, and I suspect that the un­ mined mineral tax, when I was i s T i m e W e ' r e U n i t e d ! ! ! running fo r governor, advocating K e n tu c k y Stale 4FL-CJO fo r that, put it in a political ■On;; f''n*if>r*ecl prominence it had not been in .«ttdlidate^ Art*: l title d A u to ft b rk e rs before. We didn ’t get it, but we f tilled Mine ft ot hers Aill m-MiMiH»} might. I think that’s my respon­ -H A V E AIJ. K M N M tSEI). eve B eslienr IP ) sibility. v r u i

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need is a long term policy that levels that “ boombust” out, and recommits some of the wealth of coal back into the region for a better quality of life and that, really is a very serious issue for East Kentuckians. If we do not learn how to deal with the wealth we have, and make a better quality of life, then we are in trouble. If we don’t use the wealth that we’ve got to create a future for us, then we don’t have any future. MS: How do these disparities in economics affect family life? DR. ST UMBO: I think it ties into the economy only in the sense that when people become unem­ ployed, and are unable to provide, stress develops. I don’t think any more so than if you lived in Louisville or St. Louis or anywhere, so obviously I believe it’s a fact, but the more important thing is that we are not what we were 50 years ago. Fifty years ago families in East Kentucky did not break up. It just did not happen. I grew up personally knowing every uncle and aunt I had, almost on a daily and certainly on a weekly basis. Children today in East Kentucky don’t. You still find it some, but it is far less than it was when I grew up. You’ve got a lot of people who’ve left because they couldn’t get a job and so now, we’ve got an aging population without the family support to take care of mom and dad. Their children are off somewhere, their grandchildren are off somewhere. Their grandchildren have no loyalty, if you will, to East Kentucky, and it is a dilemma. It’s a real crisis that we’re going to have to face.

in the future. Washington isn’t going to solve our problems and we’re going to have to understand that. Frankfort [the capital of Kentucky] isn’t going to solve it, but Frankfort can provide the leadership. It’s got to be through the private sec­ tor, I’m convinced. I think government’s got a role, but it absolutely cannot solve East Ken­ tucky’s problems. What it ought to do is create the taxing advantages, the incentives, create the educational opportunity that would make a viable place for private sector business to come to. We’ve got good, productive workers, but the state has not developed a policy on the most under­ developed, most backward part of the state. It doesn’t have anybody down there that understands it. That’s your problem. The policy makers that get high enough to make policies, they’re not from up here, they don’t understand and that’s really the problem.

MS: You seem to be very different from a “ typical” Appalachian person. Do your neigh­ bors react differently to you? DR. STUMBO: I think if you compared me to another doctor who is not from this area, a lot of people would prefer me. Now, does the average diggin’ coal diggin’, coal miner say, “ now, Grady Stumbo, he’s an old boy. He’s one of us?” No. They know I’m different. What I say to coal miners when I talk to them, as a group, is “ my job is not to be like you, dig coal. My job is to under­ stand you and understand your family.” I grew up in the old timey ways, with my grandparents, but they’re not around anymore. And those old timey ways are fast being broken down. People who can’t compete are being just left stranded. I mean, you can travel through East Kentucky and see hundreds of people who cannot compete economically, educationally. It’s frustrating. MS: Where is the leadership going to have to come from? DR. STUMBO: There’s going to have to be a long term plan developed at the state and regional level, and we’re going to have to make some investments 20

I like it here. I’ve had a very good life here, and I want my children to grow up here. I had no choice where I was born, but I choose to live in East Kentucky. I don’t have to, but I choose to. It doesn’t mean that everything’s right, because it is not right. In Lexington you can very easily shelter yourself from those people who don’t have as much as you do. You don’t have to see it. Here it’s hard not to see it, and I think we all should try to right as many wrongs as we can. It doesn’t mean I have to right them all in 24 hours. I choose to live and bring my children up here. Maybe the schools aren’t what they ought to be, but I think if the values are right in the home, and expectations and the goals, and you can create the right attitude, I think they’ll do all right. The Mountain Spirit

Editorial As we put together this issue, mining has been much on my mind. I have never been a coal miner, but the mining of coal was so much a part of my life as I grew up—and has been again since I started The Mountain Spirit—that it haunts me like a wraith. Some people were raised around corn, some around horses, some around tobacco. Me, I grew up across the street from the Norfolk and Western Railroad, where I watched millions of tons of coal hauled east and west by steam locomotives. I assumed as a child that coal dust and smoke were a normal part of the environment, and nature took second place. Curtains blackened, cinders burned clothes and eyes, smoke mixed with steam and fog to make a sweetish brown air, snow fell grey as Dickens’ London, and sooty grit cracked under shoes. King Coal, they call it—and it governed everything. During World War II, coal trains alternated with troop trains and trains carrying shrouded tanks and artillery, so that coal and war and blackouts were mingled in a dark vision. Early trips to Bluegrass Kentucky convinced me there were two universes—one, dark and cool, made of coal and mountains; the other, brightly and splendidly hot, made of honeysuckle and green rivers. In between ran No. 3 on the N&W, from Bluefield to Cincinnati: it ran all night through the coal fields, over rivers black as the Styx, through a thousand fearsome tun­ nels, and past rows of great coke ovens blazing a strange semaphore that matched the clacking of train wheels. As I grew older, still and always in love with the steam whistles, the endless bells, and the chugging of engines up the long grade from Nor­ folk, I began to notice other things about coal and the world it made. Miners out of work. Miners out on strike. The roaring of John L. Lewis (he prepared me for Shakespeare), whose bushy eyebrows fascinated children as much as, say, a September-October 1983

rhinoceros. Mining camps. Men with blackened faces coming home from work. Men not coming home, and crying woman. Drunken miners in brawls. But more. Men choking and gasping from silicosis and em­ physema. Men mangled and blinded, selling pencils and newspapers. Men laid off by mechanization. Miner’s hospitals. Explosions, disasters, violent strikes, sabotage. By the time I was in high school in the ’fifties, the phrase “ mechani­ zation of the mines” ran like a curse through a vast Appalachian depression. After decades of struggle for safety and unionization, the machines won the whole show. The “ Coal Show,” an annual exhibit of impressive new cutters and graders, gleamed in the eyes of mine operators while thousands of miners were laid off, fueling the great outmigration in which a million people left the hills, myself among them. For a few, prosperity with danger; for the many, hunger and exile, and later, perhaps, an alien comfort in strange lands. By the time I came back, the in­ troduction of strip mining had begun to change the very shape of the mountains. Formerly, the slash of railway, the slag heap and cinder pile, the blackened stream and befouled air, were all that marked us. Now, it seemed, a new monster was loose and eating the land itself, decapitating ancient mountains and eroding their antique faces. As thousands came back from the cities, hungry for home and new jobs, new conflicts began, little bush wars for a few acres of unmolested land. But the monster moved where it would. And something new had come. After the conflicts of the War on Povery era—during which, among other things, naive and young Vista workers tried to turn individualist mountaineers into raging socialists— there emerged something worse than all that had gone before: brassy “ New Appalachia,” determined to prove itself by importing and adopt­ ing the worse aspects of modern

Rescue workers carry a dead miner from a Kentucky mine disaster.

America, including a complacent acceptance of a crude materialism, a self-deception based on get, get, and keep. “ Coal will save us,” the salesmen of the ’seventies cried to the hills. But coal has not saved us. Coal has corrupted us. For eighty years the big eastern and foreign corporations have taught us the lesson: take everything out, put nothing back. Like many third world countries, we have learned that lesson well, all to well. What began with the desire for coal has ended with an Appalachia still troubled, still exploited, still unable to gain a spirit and direction, still a victim of others’ indifference and its own inchoate character. A thousand experiments to change that direction have fizzled, or only touched this or that pocket, while the best and brightest among the young continue to go elsewhere. But Appalachia is not a problem alone, it is a sign of the times—times in which, as Alexander Solzhenitsyn said recently, “ men have forgotten God.” Only that thesis can help me understand my life in Appalachia, and the scenes it feeds my melan­ choly memory. —RKC 21

FICTION

Before the Rivers Ran Black The Journal o f Jeremiah Turlin: Part Three (Conclusion)

by R. Kenton Craven

In this the final installment o f Jeremiah’s Jour­ nal, we reach the conclusion o f Jeremiah’s reflec­ tions on the last chapter o f the famous mine wars o f Harlan County from 1931-1939. During that period, the United Mine Workers o f America made four large scale attempts to unionize the mines o f Harlan County. Earlier, an attempt by the National Miners Union (a frankly Communist organization) had failed as the miners rejected its atheistic ideology and moral outlook. As the ’thir­ ties progressed, the conflicts grew stronger and stronger, but so did the union’s appeal. In 1939, the UMW desperately needed a victory: failure to gain Harlan County would jeopardize the labor union’s movement throughout the United States. As the nation’s eyes focused on the events o f Bloody Harlan, Senator LaFollette’s special commission brought in a thorough condemnation o f the company mine guard system which had ruled through terror and coercion in many parts o f the Appalachian coal fields, and the way was clear for John L. Lewis and Franklin Delano Roosevelt to capitalize on LaFollette’s airing o f the issues by bringing the recalcitrant mine owners o f Harlan to a comprehensive settlement o f the strike o f 1939. 22

Throughout the ’thirties, constant confron­ tation between mine guards and pickets, between pickets and the National Guard, and between union lovers and union haters among the miners themselves, kept Harlan County on the edge o f open warfare. Readers who desire more infor­ mation may consult John W. Hevener’s Which Side Are You On?—copies o f which may be pur­ chased from the Appalachian Book and Record Shop, Berea, Ky. 40404fo r $10.95. On July 19, 1939, the last holdouts among the Harlan coal operators signed an agreement with the UMW, and a decade o f violence and upheaval came to an end. It was a decade in which moun­ tain people in Eastern Kentucky had seen their hills and their culture changed radically, and in which they had experienced soup lines, handouts, children dying o f malnutrition, brother against brother, and the martial law rule o f Governor A.B. Chandler, as pictured on these pages. After 1939, Harlan experienced labor-management peace fo r nearly twenty years, but the fifties and the ’seventies were to bring renewals o f violence that would keep its reputation as a troublesome place intact. —RKC The Mountain Spirit

21, 1939. Ye know, Jeremiah, Jr. and my other four sons, there is one problem I got with these here fellows that comes down here to organize the union, and these other people that comes down here to hand out food to the hungry during the strikes.

The mountain is thar, and I am in the mountain, and the mountain—I know hit sounds tetched to talk about it, an’ I never thought about hit until I studied on these people from up North—the mountain is in me snug against my mind like corn in a corncrib.

And thet is, that I jes’ plain don’t like ’em, and jes plain don’t trust ’em. They make it hard to be grateful, ’cause while I am happy to pick up the beans on my spoon and shovel ’em in my mouth, afore I get ’em in under the roof I see in my mind the people that is givin’ ’em to me, and the beans go cold and sour on my tongue like soft words that has been stored in a lyin’ heart.

’N effen you said, “ do you see thet air moun­ tain?” I would say, “ yes I do.” But I would mean “ yessir, I know thet air mountain, I done got it in me and hit cain’t go away from me no more.” I don’t own it, and I don’t want to own it. Hit is a mountain, hit cain’t be owned no how. Except by the Lord God Jehovah and Him only. But these yere glass eyes in these folks from up North has scared me more than airy a wildcat. They don’t see right. They don’t see into things for they is so abusy tryin’ to get somepn out of you, like they was pullin’ you through a sody straw. They is eyes that alius seems to be sayin’ “ what can I do with this fellow? where can I put him? whichen part of him can I use?”

Take like them union organizers and re-leef people. They got glass eyes, like glass tubes that run back in their heards. I don’ think they see what I see through my eye. My eye reaches out and the world out there reaches back, and I cain’t tell whether the world is lookin’ at me or me at hit, but I know if I am lookin’ at a mountain, say, that I hear the tunes it plays and smell the smell it makes and feel the heft of it down in my bones like it all came through my eyes and went to my heart.

Now, boys I’d rather have the evil eye of the worst ol’ muleskinner in these hills look down a gun muzzle at me with a dog kickin’, hog cuttin’,

5/18/39 HARLAN, KY.—PHOTO SHOWS NATIONAL GUARDSMEN ESCORTING MINERS TO WORK AT HARLAN CENTRAL COAL COMPANY AT TOTZ. GUARDSMEN REPORTED “ SNIPERS” IN THE MOUNTAINS FIRED ABOUT TEN SHOTS AT MEN RETURNING TO WORK. THE TROOPERS ON DUTY DID NOT ANSWER THE FUSILLADE. THE MINE SUSPENDED OPERATIONS TEM­ PORARILY. Photo and text reprinted with permission from the Courier-Journal and the Louisville Times. September-October 1983

23

A street in Harlan during the 1939 strike. These hangers-on were probably attracted to one of the many trials of this turbulent era. Photo reprinted with permission from the Courier-Journal and the Louisville Times.

lizard-fryin’ state that’d kill a bull with hate-alive than have one of these here shirt-sleeve do-good boys cast a glance in my direction. I can fight the one. But t’other cain’t be fit. Hit won’t grapple. Hit is like the snake I toP ye about, an’ beware of hit’s gaze, my boys, fer hit will freeze yore soul. An’ it is a sad sight when that’s the help you hev got to take, or die. Oncet one of them jew boys from New York was on the food line in the ’31 strike. He was a mincin’ and curlin’ his lip like he was makin’ smiles outen blueberry jelly. “ This food comes to build your strength for the worker’s internashunul struggle,” sez he. “ This food comes from your brothers in the Soviet Union,” sez he. “ Do hit?” sez I. “ I don’t recall hevin’ enny brothers in thet air place,” I says. “ Trust me, friend, they are your brothers in the war for justice,” ’n he looked at me like I was a toad in his way. “ Then take it back,” I said, “ I couldn’t be beholden to no brothers I never saw,” and with Lucy cryin’ at me, I hitched up my pants and 24

stomped (I still had my t ’other leg back then) and we et dandelion sallet and fatback for a month. My brothers lives on the ridge on the Cumberland River, and I didn’t like the look in that chap’s eye. Hit was like the eye of a carp. May 22, 1939. I ain’t been able much to get down to writin’ the last few days on accounta I hev bin killing a hog and workin’ the garden by the branch. No, I didn’t want to kill a hog at this time of year, but there is no food in them camps, and I wanted to help you boys out a little from the farm. I know the WPA is a givin’ you some staples this week, but like as not there won’t be no meat with it. I kild the one Jeremiah Jr. calls Happy Chandler. Thet ought to make him laugh. Somedays when you boys reads all this I am settin’ down you will remember these hard days. Sometimes I wish you would all five come back up on the ridge and live and say to hell with the coal minin’. But you has bit into the crazy new world they has got down there, and now you keep a wantin’ more bites. And that is how it works. Me , I stay with the fog on the mountains and cool branch water and no more mines for me. I don’ know how I ever stood it as long as I did. Used to, people in these hills hadn’t no use for much money. Jes a little to buy this a’ that, now n’ then. The Mountain Spirit

Now money is all thet enny one wants. Today I found a honey tree and got two gallons out with only a few stings, and had the pleasure of seein’ the blue mountains off in Virginia in the bargain. When you dig coal, you see the coal wall. May 23, 1939. Lucy has tol’ me today about you boys bein’ mixed up in some things that sounded like danger to me, all about deenamite and guns and tryin’ to steal a mortar from the Nashunul guard. I hev tol’ you, Jeremiah, Jr., not to get in that and not to take yer brothers in that, but I should hev knowed better than to waste my breath. Ye is Turlins and has the fire in yore eye of the men who came into these mountains with flint­ locks, whuskey, and meanness a plenty. They ain’t no way to keep it back in you, and I am afeerd that if it is killed in you, you will die down into little glow worms. June 20, 1939. I hev been mullin’ over the whole thing agin. Yes, boys, you wants justice for yore families. But I fear that you air a shootin’ wasp stings at an elephant’s hide. This here thing is bigger than it looks to you, an’ I’ll tell you why. Hit ain’t jes’ a lil somepn up a few hollows. Hit’s

“ I ain’t never ever seen none of them trains carryin’ anything back up the mountains ’cept empty cars that bang along like a rattle of death.”

bigger than that, bigger than enny thing we can think about. I talked with an oP codger who still lives back, way far back, trappin’ and ’senging. But oncet in a while, he gets the urge to go a walkin’ the ridges and seein’ the big world out there. He said oncet in ’33 he went about everwhur. “ An all I seen,” he sed, “ was trains goin’ east and west, long trains full o’ coal, one right af­ ter t’other, goin’ to big cities elsewhuther, day and night, day an’ night, I don’ know what fer or why, but somebody wants all thet air coal real bad fer somepn’.” An’ he laughed like a crazy man. “ Them air trains,” he sed, “ moan and groan and they whistles like a funeral song long and sad down them valleys. Down the Kentucky, down the Big Sandy, down the New River, down the Clinch River, down ever one, you can hear that long slow old song from them trains like the call of Mr. Death himself. An’ you know what?” he ast me. “ Whut?” “ I ain’t never ever seen none of them trains September-October 1983

5/20/38 LONDON, KY.—MEMBERS OF THE MUSICK FAMILY EXAMINING BULLET HOLES IN AN APRON AND DRESS TO BE USED AS GOVERNMENT EVIDENCE IN THE TRIAL HERE OF 66 COAL OPERATORS, CHARGED WITH CONSPIRING TO DENY THE MINE WORKERS OF HARLAN COUNTY THE RIGHT TO ORGANIZE AND BARGAIN COLLEC­ TIVELY. THE DRESS AND APRON WERE HANGING IN A CLOSET IN THE ROOM OF A 19-YEAR-OLD BENNETT MUSICK WHEN HE WAS KILLED AS THEIR HOUSE WAS SUB­ JECTED TO A BARRAGE OF BULLETS. THE CLOTHING ARTICLES WILL BE USED AS AN EXHIBIT IN AN ATTEMPT BY THE GOV­ ERNMENT TO PROVE THAT VIOLENCE WAS USED IN HARLAN COUNTY TO PREVENT THE ORGANIZATION OF THE MINERS. LEFT TO RIGHT: PAULINE, DAUGHTER; MRS. MALLIE MUSICK, MOTHER; JENNINGS MUSICK, SON, AND M.A. MUSICK, FATHER. Photo and text reprinted with permission from the Courier-Journal and the Louisville Times.

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5

carryin’ anything back up the mountains ’cept empty cars that bang along like a rattle of death.” There you hev’ it, boys. How can you fight that? How can ye know what them people with glass eyes is a thinkin’ behint ’em? Or whur hit is all a takin’ us? Git up on the ridge, boys, and look down. Hit is a cleer view fer shure. June 21, 1939. I heerd that over seven thousand is now a werkin’ in union mines in Harlan as of yestidday. That leaves about that many that ain’t workin’ atall cause the other mine operators won’t sign. Hit is tense now. June 25, 1939. The coal operators has brought in 368 eviction suits against miners and thur families what won’t work withouten a contract to 25

push them outen their homes in the coal camps. Leastways nowadays they had to go through the Law, sech as it is, an’ the Union has lawyers to hep. Back in Paint Creek days, I hear, they wud jes carry all the families and thur belongins to the trains, haul ’em ten miles out in the woods, and dump ’em on the tracks in the middle of winter. That made people real mad. July 8, 1939. The coal mine owners thet is still a holdin’ out has turned down a compromise offer from John L. Lewis. Thet is like sayin’ no to a grizzly bar. In the nights, there is lots of meetins and hard words. I heer that you, Jeremiah Jr., is gettin’ to be a loud talker, too. I am a goin’ to stump down a few days and see what I kin see. I cain’t take Lucy cryin’ no more. ‘N worse, I cain’t stop starin’ at all this happenin. July 9, 1939 Sunday. My brother Hosea preached today at the rally. They wuz thousands thur, more men then I hev evur seen at oncet in one place. And they wuz a bunch of preachers from Harlan County thet has bin on the union side from almost the beginnin. “ Hold!” Hosea said. “ Hold thy tongues! The Living God is a God of fire and blood thet detests injustice, thet hates back stabbin’, and He will repay, He will repay for the orphans slighted and the bellies unfilled. He will not abandon the Israel of Harlan Miners and He will stomp on the grapes of wrath until milk and honey flows and all is righted and every hill is smoothed into a road straight into Union Paradise!” I knowed he could talk thet way, but I never seen him so warmed up until this day. He uset t’ preach on salvation, but he has changed his tune a meet. Now thet most of the Nashunul Guard has left, the union is a flexin’ its muscles more and trying to bring all this to an end. I am worried that you, Jeremiah, Jr., is atryin’ to be the muscle. July 10, 1929. The strike is fifteen weeks old, and there is a smell in the air that says somepn has got to happen, now.

July 20, 1939. I ain’t bin able to write this down for many a day now, sincet I am now a writin’ for only four sons. I don’t know what I kin say that makes any sense, sincet that day at Stanfill on July 12 when the soldiers of Governor Chandler shot Jeremiah and the others down in cold blood. He is in the ground now on the ridge, whur we brought him from the guvmint men that finally let us have him, all bloody and hard. The rest of you is out of the camp whur they held the hundreds they arrested and marched down the streets of Harlan like cattle of the fields. I was thur that day and turned to see ye a cornin’ down the dirt streets, a cloud of dust a flyin’, but I didn’t know Jeremiah

Hit is all fog and mist to me now. I want us all to go back to the days that was, when the streams runned clear and yes was yes and no was no and our porches wuz our thrones in our kingdoms. Jr. was dead til I see you, Rayber, a cryin’ and yellin’ at the soljers. My heart went to stone, and it still is stone. Lucy is still a sittin’ on the porch rockin’ and won’t talk to nobody and she still asks me ever oncet in a while when Jeremiah Jr. is a goin’ to move back on the ridge. Hosea is aflame ’cause all the operators has signed the contract now, an’ all the charges has been dismissed, ’n he kin see the Promised Land around the corner. Me, boys, you that is left, I am a tired of writing this down. I hope I hev sed it so you kin read it later and tell the children. But I have grown tired of seein’ what I see and tellin’ it on paper. Hit is all fog and mist to me now. I want us all to go back to the days that was, when the streams run­ ned clear and yes was yes and no was no and our porches wuz our thrones in our kingdoms. Some days I think thet I am a grown’ tired of the truth altogether, ’n thet I will set and stare at the moun­ CAP. tains until I die.

HARLAN, KY., MAY 18 (AP)—TROOPS RESTORE ORDER AFTER OUTBREAK OF GUNFIRE. Photo reprinted with permission from the Courier-Journal and the Louisville-Times.

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