The Mountain Spirit - March/April 1984

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

Features: Pioneers and Indians: An Overview................................5 Guardian of the Wilderness R o a d ................................. 6 I Am a Cherokee!...........................................................16 Gary............................................................................... 23

Departments: Letters..............................................................................4 Around the P ro ject.......................................................10 E ditorial........................................................................ 13 The CAP C.loseup .........................................................14 News of Our Neighbors.................................................21

The Mountain Spirit The Magazine of the Christian Appalachian Project March-April 1984 Volume III, No. 2 Editor-in-Chief.................................................Rev. Ralph Beiting E d ito r ..................................................................... Margaret Gabriel Associate Editor................................................ Glen Edward Taul Advisory Board .Mike McLaughlin, Bill Begley, Doyle Fortney Circulation M anager...............................................Kathy Stathers Graphics Coordinator.............................................Kathy Stathers Typesetting...................................................................Teresa Richey

The Mountain Spirit is published six times a year. The annual subscription price is $5.00. Subscriptions and other cor­ respondence should be sent to The Mountain Spirit, Christian Appalachian Project, 322 Crab Orchard Road, Lancaster, Kentucky 40446. Copyright 1984, 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.

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From Our President

f... During the last 34 years I have been privileged to live and work in the Appalachian section of Ken­ tucky that was instrumental in shap­ ing not only the future of Kentucky but the destiny of our westward push as a nation. In the remote community of David in Floyd County’s Eastern Kentucky mountains, a small stone pillar marks the first spot that Daniel Boone visited in Kentucky in 1767 as he sought to find a westward route into the Kentucky highlands. Here he made salt and became, possibly, the first white man to start a commercial enterprise in Ken­ tucky. In Kingsport, Tennessee, not far from the Kentucky border, I stood on the spot where in 1775 Boone and a group of hardy mountain men began their task of carving out a road through the wilderness that would lead to Boonesborough on the Kentucky River in the heart of Bluegrass region of central Ken­ tucky. Colonel Richard Henderson of North Carolina had sent Boone to prepare the way for his new em­ pire called Transylvania. It was the first organized government west of the Allegheny Mountains. Here schools were started, marriages celebrated, children christened, laws passed, and a fort built to make sure it endured. I have taken a boat up the Ken­ tucky River and camped at the creek where, in 1774, James Herrod beached his boats and went overland until he found a spot that he felt would provide shelter and safety for his new outpost on the frontier. Harrodsburg, Kentucky’s first permanent settlement, prospers today and stands as a tribute to these determined frontiersmen. William Whitley, his wife, and their two children left the comfort March-April 1984

of their home in Virginia to settle along the Boone Wilderness Road in 1775. Here he built the first brick house west of the Allegheny Moun­ tains. His station was a welcome stopping place for weary travelers. In addition, he gave protection from the Indians who still fought for supremacy in this new land. With all his work, he still found time to build the first race track in the west and give birth to Kentucky’s famed horse racing industry. On the bank of the mighty Ohio River, where the great falls have stood for centuries, now stands Louisville, Kentucky’s largest city. In 1776, when George Rogers Clark recruited a band of patriots to march on Vincennes and Detroit, they camped on Corn Island across from the settlement that would eventually be called Louisville, in honor of the French king who aided the Americans in their struggle for independence. It is difficult to see how the history of our nation would be what it is without George Rogers Clark and his dream of freedom, and his courage and determination to bring it about. The story, of course, is only half told, at best. We could talk of Ben­ jamin Logan, Simon Kenton, Isaac Shelby, James Floyd, Dr. Thomas Walker, Bishop Flaget, and the host of men and women who followed them. They were the dreamers, the peo­ ple whose physical eyes could see only wilderness danger isolation, but whose minds saw a new land, a challenge, and the opportunity to create something new. They were the road builders, the city planners. They established schools, founded churches, and passed laws. They started industries. They found time to play and enjoy the new frontier.

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Father Ralph Beiting

In the quiet moments I sometimes find, I like to sit on top of a moun­ tain and look over the tangle of valleys and lesser hills. I treasure those times when I can sit on the banks of a river like the Kentucky, Cumberland, or Dix and revive the memories of the of the giants of times past. As I come down the mountain or walk away from the river bank, however, I am always convinced that the time for pioneers is not gone. We still need dreamers and planners, and men and women who see more than the eye can tell. Why is it that today many people see Appalachia as a land of poverty and despair—a backward land whose people have lost the zest for life. For me this appraisal is totally unacceptable. I am firmly convinced that the ghosts of those hardy pioneers are still present in our Ken­ tucky hills. All we need is to excite our people to the challenges that face us. Our problems are not insur­ mountable, rather we have oppor­ tunities and challenges. Next to my Christian faith and family heritage, I treasure the privilege of having been born a Ken­ tuckian. I am convinced that many Kentuckians have great gifts that will aid us in our quest to build a better tomorrow. As in days past when people came from other areas to settle in Kentucky, so now we need pioneers from other parts of America to come and help us build a better Appalachia. If you agree with me and see an opportunity to be a pioneer, drop me a line. I’ll be waiting.

Letters As a former CAP volunteer, your work is still very close to my heart. I have many precious memories of the four years spent in Lancaster, Berea, and Martin, Kentucky. Many times I find myself wishing to be back working for and with the peo­ ple I have known and loved. But at the present time there is a great need for my services here in Lowell . . . .

try to include more coverage of your evangelistic work in The Mountain Spirit. I realize it’s much easier to document health care and work pro­ jects for a magazine article, but I want to hear about it all.

I thank God for Father Beiting’s example of faith and love. I daily pray the Lord to bless him and to give him the health he needs to con­ tinue in the work he loves. . . .

No disrespect meant, but I bet God wouldn’t have been angry with you if you had handed the paint brushes and paints to the guy that needed the thirty dollars for his utility bill, or the one that needed a bed. It looks as if the first one was putting the touch on you. I’ve walk­ ed two miles, worked two eighthour shifts, then walked two miles home, did my work, slept two hours, then the same thing over for eight years. Without God’s help I couldn’t have made it, but I raised my three children and schooled them. May God bless your work.

Sister Edna Marie, S.U.S.C. Lowell, MA

I loved your “ From Our Presi­ dent’’ in the November-December, 1983 issue of The Mountain Spirit. Thanks for having the courage to admit your faults and weaknesses. But more than that, thanks for ex­ hibiting that wonderful spirit of perseverance as you seek God’s will for your life. Your article was worth the whole magazine this issue, and that’s not to say that the other ar­ ticles weren’t good. . . . Wayne Sumner Lithia, FL Fd like to add my encouragement to that of Marlene Mclnturff (see her letter, The Mountain Spirit, January-February, 1984). While feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and other cor­ poral works of mercy are an essen­ tial part of the gospel, evangelism is, too. We receive appeals every day from missionaries whose letters are full of details on the relief programs they’re carrying out, but say nothing, really, about spreading the gospel. It’s refreshing to hear from an outreach that both preaches the gospel and lives out the beautitudes. Please continue to do both, and 4

Steve Dunham Avon, NJ

Rosa Lee Reeves Mead, OK I have just finished reading the Harlan story, and my heart ached again. It takes heart to experience the life those people lived. My husband was a miner in West Virginia, who knew those times well, and he told me how they tried to keep the unions out. But it was not that way. He later became a circuit rider, and after two years of being a widower, decided to ask the school teacher of a one room school to be his wife. She didn’t know how to say “ no’’ to the preacher, and now she’s a widow (13 years) in Florida. You are doing a beautiful work, and prayers are with you. Isabelle McCutcheon Dunnellon, FL The Mountain Spirit—as express­ ed in the title of your publica­ tion—is an example for all people, notably those struggling ones who

rely on their own backbones (spines, if you will) rather than on the wishbones of public handouts. Oh, how I wish there were such a Hud­ son Valley Spirit in my area! Perry Wood Troy, NY

Enclosed is my check to renew my subscription to The Mountain Spirit. I first became acquainted with CAP through my daughter, Leah Everette, who was a volunteer for two years. The happiest two years of her life, I might add. I look forward to receiving every copy of The Mountain Spirit and especially enjoyed the last issue about “ Home Remedies . . . ’’ May God bless and endow CAP and all its workers with all the necessities to continue the good works you have worked so hard to institute. Lucille Fanney Roanoke Rapids, NC

My first issue of The Mountain Spirit just arrived, and it is great, but the best thing of all is your editorial on spirituality—it did this old Presbyterian good to see that even a Catholic priest has human feelings like the rest of us. I had my back broken several years ago, so I understand that part, too. I must tell you about my favorite golf foursome—a Catholic priest, one Baptist, one Jew, and me. That is ecumenical. Keep up the good work. Jimmy Thompson Clarksdale, MS

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. The Mountain Spirit

Pioneers and Indians An Overview by Glen Edward Taul

The development of Eastern Ken­ tucky and the material well being of its inhabitants has lagged far behind the rest of the Commonwealth of Kentucky and the nation. These have been major themes in Eastern Kentucky’s history. Although a number of factors have contributed to these condi­ tions, a major historical influence is that much of Kentucky was settled nearly a generation before its eastern-most region. As a result, Kentucky’s Cumberland Plateau region “ experienced their pioneer period for a correspondingly longer period of time.” Marauding Indians and heavily forested mountains discouraged set­ tlement of the Kentucky highlands until 1795, twenty-one years after Harrodsburg, Kentucky’s first per­ manent settlement, was established in the Bluegrass region of Central Kentucky. The Central and Western regions of Kentucky were first to be settled because the land was better suited to farming. The first inhabitants of Eastern Kentucky were known as the “ Mound Builders,” whose society was primarily agricultural. The Mound Builders, who lived in the Big Sandy Valley during the first eight centuries A.D., were eventual­ ly exterminated by warlike tribes who based their society on hunting the buffalo. Although the region re­ mained uninhabited for the next several hundred years, Indian tribes in Ohio, and Tennessee—Shawnee, C herokee, M ingo, Delaware, Miami, Wyandot—reserved the area for hunting and warfare. Serious attention was given to the settlement of the mountains by col­ March-April 1984

onists when the buffalo, elk, and beaver had disappeared from the rest of the state and the acreage began to be fenced and tilled. Settle­ ment began after small parties of hunters, which included among others Daniel Boone and Simon K enton, and explorers —D r. Thomas Walker and Christopher Gist—for land companies returned home with more information about the area. The upper Cumberland, the up­ per Kentucky, and the Big Sandy River valleys were settled generally between 1787-1830. Although per­ manent settlements were established in 1775 and 1776 on the western edge of the Cumberland Plateau, hostile Indians hindered heavy migrations into the upper Kentucky and Big Sandy River valleys until General “ Mad” Anthony Wayne defeated the Indians at Fallen Timbers in 1795. This opened other routes into the region besides those established along the Ohio River and the Wilderness Road. The flow of newcomers began to decline after 1812; by 1830 the parent population in Eastern Kentucky had arrived. The pioneers of the Kentucky highlands settled along creeks first because they provided long, narrow ledges of bottom lands for building houses and barns and planting small crops of corn. The settler followed the coves which had been formed by the creeks until he found a suitable spot to build a cabin. He then established his claim to the land and began to farm and rear a large fam­ ily. When his offspring married, they moved further up the creek and soon the hollows, or creek branches, would have a community of related

A passageway to the west people bearing the same name. Eastern Kentucky author Jesse Stuart tells about nine Pratt families of Smith Branch in the story “ My Brother Erric.” The narrator, who is a member of the Pratt family, thinks the branch has probably been named after the Smith families who settled the nine miles of bottom land 150 years ago. But Smiths no longer live along the branch and “ I think Smith Branch should be changed to Pratt Branch,” says Stuart’s nar­ rator. The pioneers prepared the way for others. They cleared the land, built the homes, and built the com­ munities for protection and mutual sustenance. They were fiercely in­ dependent and proud. A man’s position in the society depended on his virility, courage, and ingenuity. It is the positive aspects of this tradi­ tion on which today’s Kentucky highlander is trying to build a future. For more information about this period of Eastern Kentucky history, please refer to Carol CroweCarraco, The Big Sandy, Lex­ ington, 1979; Willard Rouse Jillson, The Big Sandy Valley, Louisville, Ky., 1923; repr. ed. Baltimore, 1970; Henry P. Scalf, Kentucky’s Last Frontier, Pikeville, Ky., 1966; Harriette Simpson Arnow, Seedtime on the Cumberland, New York, 1960; repr. ed. Lexington, Ky., 1983. 5

Kentucky Tourism Department

Sportsman’s Hill and William Whitley

H i s name was William Whitley and he was to be prominent in the history of our 15th state, Ken­ tucky. Like many Kentuckians of that time, he was born in Virginia and came into the wilderness to find his fortune and help find a new territory. From 1775 until his death in 1813, he was force to be reckoned with in Kentucky. During his years on the frontier, he had risen to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the Kentucky militia. At the age of 64 he responded to Kentucky Governor Isaac Shelby’s call for volunteers to fight in the year 1812. He marched to the battle as a private. They crossed the Ohio River, pro­ ceeding to a place in Northern Ohio known as Fallen Timbers. The next day the main battle would take place. He had a hard time sleeping that night. It was October 4th, 1813 and the frost was in the autumn night. It wasn’t the cold that kept him awake however. He was troubled by a dream he had had earlier. Although he had fought the Indians since he first arrived in Kentucky in 1775, he had been wounded only once. That night he confided to a friend, John Preston, that he would die in battle the next day. John reassured him that such was surely not the case. He had fought too many bat­ tles, he was the the “ Guardian of the Wilderness Road.” He would come through this encounter as he had so many before. The old man took a final look at the clear sky, said his night prayers, and lay quietly, waiting for tomorrow. The battle that he had come to join is one in which history delights. For years the Shawnee In­ dian Chief Tecumseh had traveled from one In­ dian village to another in five states, urging the braves to unite in one great battle to defeat the ad­ vances of the white man. The British had joined him. They hoped to humble and regain this new nation. They were assisted by Tecumseh’s brother who was known as the “ Prophet.” He had assured all the Indians that they were protected by the “ Great Spirit.” No harm could touch them. They were engaged in a Holy War. The American forces were under the command of Colonel William Henry Harrison, later to become the President of the United States, partly on the strength of the victory that he would win the next day. Many veterans of the Revolutionary War were there, as well as young men seeking their first battle. The plan was a simple one. The Americans knew the Indians had prepared an am­ bush. Twenty volunteers were called for to charge the Indian position. They were to gallop their horses thirty feet apart and draw the Indians’s fire. The main body would then attack from the rear. William Whitley rode at the head of the March-April 1984

The kind of desk that Whitley used.

volunteers in this charge. The tiny band has become known in history as the “ Forlorn Hope.” At the first Indian volley, nineteen of the twenty men were unhorsed and fifteen were mortally wounded. The main American force then struck and the Indians were routed. At the battle’s end William Whitley’s body laid crumpled on the ground. He was dead. Not far away lay the dead body of the great Shawnee Chief Tecumseh. While it is not certain who killed Tecumseh, one of three men probably did. Collins in his History o f Ken­ tucky concluded that “ Colonel Johnson did not kill Tecumseh, that David King, a companion of Whitley, might have done it but that Colonel Whitley probably did kill him.” John Preston gathered up Whitley’s knife, powder horn, and shoulder belt, placed them on his horse, and delivered them to Esther Whitley at her home along the wilderness trail. Whitley’s years were three score and hardly a handful more, but his influence had been great. In the days when bravery was a common com­ modity he stands above the best. Most of the pioneers joined Whitley’s comrade, Benjamin Logan, in his fort which stood at present-day Stanford, for protection against Indian attacks. Whitley settled between Crab Orchard and Stan­ ford in order to protect the travelers along the Wilderness Road. Alone, exposed to attack, he well deserved the title given him, “ Guardian of the Wilderness Road.” On many occasions he pur­ sued the Indians down into Tennessee or up into Ohio. Several times he was successful in freeing 7

captives the Indians had taken. Frequently he came back with his neighbors’s horses and cattle which had been run off by the Indians. He knew full well if this new land was to develop, he had to keep the route of communications open. The road had to be free. Whitley, despite his isolated location, became known as one of the great builders in Kentucky. Even today, the home he built in the closing days of the 18th century is an outstanding example of fine architecture and domestic grace. He built the first brick home west of the mountains. The house was probably completed in 1792, the same year that Kentucky became our 15th state. The home, though elegant for its time, reflected the circumstances of the day. The windows are farther off the floor than what we see today. This was undoubtedly done to offer protection from Indian attacks. The stairways narrow as you go to the second and third floors. This would make it simpler to keep the Indians on a lower floor if they gained entrance to the home. The attic contains a secret hiding place that would enable a woman and a small child to conceal themselves if Indians took over the entire house. The house is located on a small knoll about a quarter of a mile back off the old Wilderness Road, which is the present day US Route 150. Over the front entrance are the initials W. W., formed by the patterns of the brick. The rear en­ trance has the initials E. W. in honor of Esther Whitley, William’s wife. In the twenty years and more that Whitley lived there it served as a meeting place for many of Ken­ tucky’s great men. The Boones, Logans, Clarks, Shelbys, and Kentons were visitors at one time or another. The home was given a special name which was customary at the time. Whitley called the house “ Sportsman’s Hill.” The name was selected because of the race track that Whitley built prior to the erection of the house. The race track was the first built in Kentucky and was the forerunner of the great thoroughbred industry that is still synonymous with Kentucky. The race track has a special characteristic. All of the English race courses ran in a clockwise pattern. Whitley, in­ tense patriot that he was, changed the pattern, and his course had the horses running counter­ clockwise. His innovation has been adopted by all the race tracks in the U.S.A. Whitley apparently figured greatly in another Kentucky tradition, the making of whiskey. When it came time to build his great house, Colonel Young tells us that Whitley gave 500 acres of land to a man for the brickwork construction on the house. He gave another farm to a gentleman in ex­ 8

change for the whiskey that he furnished to the men who worked on the house. This could be another reason why the new house was called Sportsman’s Hill. Whitley was a family man who treasured his family above all else. Back in Virginia he had mar­ ried Esther Fullen. He was 21, she 16, when they married. They had two daughters before they left Virginia in 1775 for their move to Kentucky. Nine more children were born to them in Kentucky. They had three sons and eight daughters. If one can judge by the way he dispersed his possessions, both before his death and in his will, he was very considerate of his daughters. While the land went to his sons, the house and its furnishings went to the women folk. All our records indicate that the Whitley family had a genuine bond of love and friendship, which had to flow from the deep love and respect which William and Esther had for each other and their offspring. Their second child, Isabella, married a young frontiersman from Kentucky by the name of

Phillip Sublette. In later years they, like the Boones, moved on to Missouri beyond the Mississippi River. Four of their sons were in­ strumental in the exploration of the west. Two of them went with Lewis and Clark on their historic journey west. Later on they founded the Rocky Mountan Fur Company. There must have been great excitement in the house on Sportman’s Hill when the children and grandchildren gathered to tell of the events in which they had been involved. Whitley, like most of the early pioneers, took an interest in politics. He served one term in the Ken­ tucky legislature, but his interest and involvement in the day-to-day excitement on the frontier was his greatest love and he spent his time accordingly. Whitley’s death in 1813 marked the end of an era in Kentucky’s early history. Almost all of the great names were gone. Boone was over in Missouri scouting out the routes for the Santa Fe and Oregon Trails. James Harrod was dead, shot by persons unknown while he was out hunting. Simon Kenton had moved to Ohio, George Rogers Clark was now penniless and living in Indiana.

John Floyd had been killed by Indians. Benjamin Logan and Isaac Shelby still remained. The frontier was now safe. In fact, it had now moved beyond Kentucky to Ohio, Illinois, and Missouri. The new nation would never be serious­ ly challenged by a foreign power again. Schools and universities now welcomed the children of the pioneers. Commerce was established and growing. The torch had been handed on to a younger generation. Patriots and pioneers of Whitley’s caliber will never be forgotten. Their place is secure. As I recall their exploits in days past, I feel con­ fident for the future, for their spirit is not dead. I believe the words of Patrick Henry are as true to­ day as they were more than 200 years ago. “ We shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of na­ tions, who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, Sir, is not to the strong alone, it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave.” Amen!

A hidden stairway, or ladder (above), leads from the kitchen to a bedroom on the second floor, a valuable auxiliary during an Indian attack. The family room (left) is the house’s largest room.

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around the project CAP Home Repair Takes On Unusual Project ROCKCASTLE COUNTY—Last fall a unique project was undertaken by CAP’s Rockcastle County home repair crew. Fred Manzi and Dean Gentry converted a rabbit hutch in­ to a small home, saving a couple from being exposed to the winter’s cold. “ We normally don’t do this kind of project,” said Lew Phillips, director of the home repair pro­ gram. “ We usually don’t build en­ tire homes.” Since its beginning in 1977 in Rockcastle County, the home repair program has been directed toward helping low income families and elderly people expand, remodel, and repair older homes. The remodeling and repair projects attempt to make homes safe and comfortable. Most of their work is related to carpentry rather than plumbing or electrical work, Lew said.

by the CAP News Service

possibilities for future expansion by the Abneys, Lew said. In a similar instance, the Garrard County home repair crew, Ray Greene and Larry Creech, built walls, doors, windows, and installed insulation to help a Jessamine County family of seven move into their new house before Christmas. The husband was building the house himself, and had gotten it under roof when he ran out of money. The family was living in a tobacco stripping room while their home was being finished. The home repair program has crews for Rockcastle, Garrard, Lin­ coln, and southern Madison coun­ ties, Lew said. There is a possibility of expanding into Jackson County in the near future.

Be-A-Seed Receives TVA Grant LANCASTER—CA P’S Be-ASeed program received some extra financial help from the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) this year, according to Gil Rosenberg, direc­ tor of the CAP program. TVA’s Division of Agricultural Develop­ ment awarded the program $4,000. It is the second consecutive year that the program has been awarded a grant. Last year TVA gave them a $5,000 grant. The grant money will be combin­ ed with the money contributed by CAP donors to buy garden seed, seed potatoes, onion sets, fertilizer, and powdered insecticide. In all about 750 to 1,000 families will be given the opportunity to grow their

Mr. and Mrs. Russell Abney had been dispossessed of their mobile home. The hutch they were living in had a sloping dirt floor, a dangerous heating system, and it had only aluminum siding for walls. “ It sounded good, but we didn’t know if we could do it,” Lew said of his reaction when Fred talked with him about it. “ We wanted to do it just to see if we could.” With the financial help of some local churches, Fred, Dean, and Mr. Abney built a 12’ X 24’ home with a floor, a flue, a door, windows, and insulation. Lew said each home repair applicant is asked to invest in the remodeling project according to their financial capability. In addi­ tion to his labor, Mr. Abney provid­ ed much of the building material. The lumber was rough cut from trees on the couple’s twenty-eight acre plot of land. The 10

new

hom e

has

the

Fred Manzi, Russell Abney, and Lew Phillips survey CAP’s first complete home project. The Abney family had been living in a rabbit hutch.

The Mountain Spirit

around the p ro je c t. . . continued

own food. The Be-A-Seed program helps low income families in Garrard, Lincoln, and Rockcastle counties to produce and preserve wholesome food inexpensively. Gil hopes to have the resources to include fam ilies in Floyd, southern Madison, and Jackson counties as well. The program also activates an im­ portant Christian principle. It allows a family who has much to help a rural family who has little. In 2 Corinthians Paul writes, “ Provid­ ed there is an eager desire to give, God accepts what a man has; he does not ask for what he has not.” Seed will be bought in bulk in March. With the help of volunteers and adult handicapped workers it will be divided into family-sized allotments and distributed to the families.

A Be-A-Seed Participant

In the spring and summer, Gil, Keith Gilbertson, and a crew of tem­ porary volunteers will visit the par­ ticipating families, check on their progress, and offer encouragement and help. Gil said, “ I really appreciate TVA and our donors for contributing to the program. Without them we wouldn’t be able to help these families help themselves.” March-April 1984

Special Education Unit Opens in Rockcastle County RENFRO VALLEY—There’s a spirit of cooperation afoot in Rockcastle County, which is work­ ing to the benefit of handicapped children in that county. The Rockcastle County school system has established a classroom at the Family Life Center for severely retarded and multiply handicapped children. The unit operates in a house on the grounds of CAP’S Family Life Center, with a current enrollment of four children. Prior to the opening of the unit, the children, all of whom are residents of CAP’S two foster homes for handicapped children, were enrolled in the trainable unit of the Rockcastle County school system. Seeing that the needs of the profoundly handicapped children were not being met, the director of special education in the county ap­ proached Jody Harrison about the possibility of CAP providing the space needed for the unit. Jody and his wife, Judy, have taken hand­ icapped foster children into their home for thirteen years, and for the last four years have lived at the Family Life Center, providing for the needs of the children, and work­ ing toward placing them back with the natural parents or with perma­ nent adoptive families. In 1982 Lafey and Evelyn Seals, who had several years of experience as foster parents, moved from their home in Lincoln County to the Family Life Center to operate CAP’S second special needs foster home. Of the four children who are participating, the new unit for profoundly hand­ icapped children, three live with Lafey and Evelyn and one with Judy and Jody. The school has the capacity to take up to eight children, and establishes Rockcastle County as

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To: Christian Appalachian Project 322 Crab Orchard Road Lancaster, Kentucky 40446 Please send, without obliga­ tion, my free copy of “ How To W rite A Will That Works.”

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around the p ro je ct. . . continued one of the best equipped counties in the mountains to deal with the education of handicapped children. Judy Harrison says she is very ex­ cited ab o u t these new est developments, and pointed out that the Rockcastle County system has been very open to the educational needs of her children. “ They’ve been very nice, very accepting of these kids, and always very open. In the last five years the size of the trainable unit has doubled, they have a unit for deaf high school students, and now the severeprofound unit. That’s more special education than any other mountain county that I know of.” All of these factors make the Har­ rison’s and Seals’ homes two of the most attractive placements for handicapped foster children in the entire state. Judy and Jody have the capabilities of handling children with severe medical problems, such as heart monitors, and Lafey and

Evelyn have begun to specialize more and more with children who are profoundly retarded. Both homes have had remarkable success in their ability to place children in adoptive homes, and the Family Life Center has the facilities to allow natural and pre-adoptive parents to live at the center for a time, and learn how to care for the children under the guidance of Judy, Jody, Lafey, and Evelyn. “ We have it all here,” Judy said with her characteristically optimistic laugh. “ And now we have day care, too,” she said, referring to CAP’s newest child development center. The new school opened in Lebruary in the Family Life Retreat Center. The current facilities are not large enough to accept every special needs foster child in the state, but Judy said that the calls come in constantly from state workers all over Ken­ tucky who wish to place children in Rockcastle County.

The Rockcastle County School system has provided school buses with lifts fo r handicapped children.

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Jody and Judy Harrison and their daughters, Holly and Tina.

The Mountain Spirit

Editorial

If you think about pioneers in this light, it has a tendency to make you think about what kind of pioneering can be done, based on the important work that has been done by another, rather than accepting the modern notion that there are no more opportunities left.

I can remember, as I was growing up, my mother telling me, my three brothers, and my sister, “ dare to be different!” Mom was usually saying this to a houseful of teenagers whose fondest desire, at that time, was to conform to whatever fad happened to be in vogue at the time. She didn’t relent, though, and those words still come back to me from time to time as I make deci­ sions about various things. Considering those words makes me realize that Mom was challenging us to do a little modern day pioneering of our own.

Young people have, perhaps, the greatest op­ portunity of all to pioneer new attitudes in our modern way of life. The world today tells kids that just about any kind of behavior is acceptable. It’s better if one chooses not to do direct harm to another person, but the single most important thing is to do one’s own thing. I believe that the thousands and thousands of kids who are working hard on their education and on community service are dispelling these notions, and carving out a future of peace and greatness for our country.

It seems that modern society does a lot of lamenting about a lack of heroes or pioneers for children and young people to emulate these days. Everywhere you turn you find people who used to be considered good role models falling to the foibles of human nature. Public officials turn to corruption and graft; athletes turn to cocaine; in some cases, even parental role models fall. Perhaps the answer lies in looking to human nature, rather than human beings for the kind of examples that need to be set to show children and young people the heights to which they may be able to soar. As surely as we believe in the basic goodness of God’s creation, we can see couragous pioneers in today’s world. Mother Teresa is surely one of our 20th century pioneers. By accepting the call of the Lord to work among the poorest of the world’s poor, Mother Teresa has provided inspiration and motivation to thousands of young men and women who have followed her example. How would the world have been different without the pioneering of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.? Dr. King’s example of Christian, non-violent protest of social injustices has been a shining ex­ ample to men and women, even eighteen years after his death. The most wonderful thing about these and so many other modern day pioneers is much the same as the more conventional people we think of when we here the word “ pioneer.” As was the case with Daniel Boone, Lewis and Clarke, William Whitley, and all of the other men and women who shaped our country out of the wilderness, one per­ son rarely, if ever, finishes the job that he started out to do. Each pioneer lays the groundwork for the next to pick up the job, perhaps build a little more, and then turn over the reins to someone else. March-April 1984

For your consideration, I offer the idea that in our own way every one of us can be a pioneer. All that we need is the creativity and imagination to see where improvements can be made, or new ideas can be tried. Personally, I like the idea of exploring new routes in personal relationships. How can I relate better to my friends, my co-workers, my family? Are there barriers between me and people I care about that make it difficult to communicate at times? Of all of the important discoveries that

A ll that we need is the creativity and imagination to see where im­ provements can be made, or new ideas can be tried. have been made by pioneers since the beginning of time, what could be more crucial than discovering new ways to communicate more effectively with the people who make life important? In the days when America was new there were great men who could easily be singled out and labeled “ great.” But they did not work alone. There were families along with them, braving hardships to see that the new settlements grew and flourished. There were men and women whose names we will never know, who made important contributions in smaller ways than braving a trail through the Appalachian Mountains. Our oppor­ tunities today may be seen in much the same way. The average person may never have the chance to explore God’s earth, fly in outer space, or make great medical discoveries. But we can work toward discovering and meeting the challenges that are sent our way to best shape our lives and our world in the way that allows us to serve God and each other. —MMG. 13

The CAP Closeup

Cecelia Williams “A Volunteer o f Quiet Dedication”

by the CAP News Service S he is God’s angel,” said Christine Smith, former director of Lancaster’s partial hospitaliza­ tion program for handicapped adults. “ Without Cecelia our program would have gone down the shoot. She is God’s angel of mercy.’’ Christine was referring to Cecelia Williams’s quiet dedication to being a CAP volunteer. On a cold, snowy morning, Cecelia was diligent­ ly sorting clothes in the Attic store in Stanford, Kentucky. Although she is manager of the store, you will also find her doing other things, such as helping with the distribution of CAP’S Christmas baskets. “ I enjoy meeting the people and serving the people,” she said. That was her “ wholehearted in­ terest” when she became a CAP volunteer five years ago. “ I am the oldest volunteer, age-wise and time-wise,” Cecelia said. Cecelia became a volunteer soon after her hus­ band died. While they were raising a family, she was a volunteer in the local hospital and worked with elderly people in her adopted community of Newark, Ohio. “ I decided that there was no use staying home alone,” she said. Being a native of Lincoln County, of which Stanford is the county seat, Cecelia was familiar with Father Ralph Beiting’s work. She was born 14

and raised in a German community named Broughtentown near Ottenheim. After marrying, she and her husband began their life and family on a farm in Lincoln County. They stayed about nine years, and then decided in 1955 to leave Kentucky for Ohio. A year before leaving, her children attended the school at St. William’s Catholic Church in Lancaster, “ and I worked in Lancaster at a restaurant,” she said. “ I always knew Father Beiting from the very beginning, all of his work. And I always said, ‘one day I’m hoping to come back,’ but I didn’t know it would be in this kind of situation.” The family settled in Newark, Ohio where Cecelia’s husband drove a long distance truck for the next twenty years. “ After that he retired and got sick, and was sick for two years” before dying. Cecelia said she brought him back home to Ottenheim for burial. She came back home, too, as a volunteer with the full support of her two daughters and one son. Cecelia still maintains a house in Newark. Cecelia has worked with the handicapped, cooked for Father Beiting, and managed the Stan­ ford Attic. When working with the handicapped, she transported them from the country to the The Mountain Spirit

Comprehensive Care Center’s Partial Hospitaliza­ tion program in Lancaster. CAP’S contribution to that program was its maintenence of work activity for the clients. At one time Cecelia directed the work activity program in both Stanford and Lan­ caster. “ I enjoyed working with the handicapped peo­ ple more than any of the work that I have done so far; because they are people who really need all the love and compassion than anybody can afford to give them,” Cecelia said. B efore receiving her present assignment at the Stanford Attic, Cecelia spent two months in Mar­ tin, Kentucky, cooking for Father Beiting and others. “ When I first went down there, I found that I had to find my own work, which wasn’t hard to do.” Besides cooking for 24 to 27 people a day, flowers had to be planted, and outside work had to be done. Cecelia’s love for gardening was a great asset in Martin at that time. After her stay at Martin, Cecelia returned to her home in Newark with the intention of staying. But once she got there, found that things were going well, and there were no problems with the house, she decided to return two months later. At the Attic, she keeps the place straight, sorts clothes, brings clothes onto the floor, and acts as cashier. Cecelia lives with the other volunteers

Cecelia works beside her co-workers.

Taul

who work in Stanford, and to hear them talk about her, you would think that she’s a workaholic. A former volunteer who lived with Cecelia when she was assigned to the Lancaster community remembers when the others would tell her, “ Stop! You’re making us feel guilty!” “ I try to meet as many people as possible,” she says. All kinds of people come into the Attic. “ They can be BIG tobacco farmers,” or the very poorest. Farmers often buy clothes for their tenants. Cecelia plans to continue her volunteer work in­ definitely. “ It gives me great satisfaction to do the work that I am doing,” she said. She will quit “ when I get too old and sick. I’ve always got a home waiting for me; and maybe a rocking chair or so. Otherwise I’d like to hang in here as long as I can.” For anybody who has retired in relatively good health and wants to remain active, Cecelia “ would recommend them getting into something like th is. . . ” CAP. Cecelia has helped distribute Christmas baskets every year she has been a volunteer. She often helps in other activities, too. Here she is preparing food baskets fo r distribution at Christmas. March-April 1984

15

I Am A Cherokee!

Grandma lay on a lumpy cornshuck mattress that was supported by ropes tied to the rough cherry bed frame. Her frail form shivered beneath the patch work quilts. The cold winter wind whistled through the cracks o f the log house and I had stuffed rags into the larger ones to keep out the snow as it fell silently on that bitter December day. The dirt floor was cold and damp and the fire burning in the large stone fireplace did little to warm the solitary room. Grandma had a broken hip and cancer had ravaged her left eye. I knew she was in great pain, yet she suffered silently. Even under the shadow o f death she was still beautiful. She was a fullblooded Cherokee Indian and possessed the characteristic bronze skin and high cheek bones o f her people. Her dark hair lay in a single plait across her shoulder.

Story by Beverly Carter Sexton

I had begged Momma to let me be the one to stay with Grandma and nurse her. Someone had to stay and take care o f her; she was unable to make the rough trip out o f the holler to our house. Grandpa had died several years before, and Grandma had lived alone ever since.

Illustrations by Kathy Stathers

In a weak voice Grandma asked me to come near her bed.

16

The Mountain Spirit

“Yes Grandma, I ’m here, ” I said as I reached for her hand and held it in mine. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around my own and held tightly. “In the trunk at the foot o f the bed is a bundle o f papers. I want you to read them now and learn about your Cherokee family and how your old Grandma came to live in the white man’s world. Always remember that you, too, have the blood o f the Cherokee in your veins and you never forget your Indian brothers. ” Grandma closed her eyes and relaxed her grip on my hand as she drifted o ff into sleep. I found the papers tied up in twine at the bottom o f the trunk. I recognized Grandma’s bold handwriting on the top sheet o f paper. After turning up the wick on the coal oil lamp, I sat down on a ladder back chair, carefully untied the twine, and began reading. I n 1838 the white man began the final blow against the Eastern Cherokee nation. They came in force with their armies to herd our people like cattle to the reservation in the west. The march from our fertile southern lands to the unknown lands of Oklahoma cost our nation many lives. Of the 16,000 Cherokees uprooted from their homes, over 5,000 died before reaching the western lands. This march westward was known as Nunna-da-ultsun-yi, “ the trail on which they cried.” It is im­ bedded into the hearts and minds of every Cherokee for as long as time lasts. Not all of the Cherokees went peacefully. Tsali, a brave and heroic man was provoked to fury when a guard prodded his wife with a bayonet as she stopped to care for the needs of her baby. Tsali spoke out in Cherokee in a loud voice, and asked the others in his group to join with him in overcoming the guards and gaining freedom. They fought violently, overcame their captors, and escaped into the mountains. They hid in a cave in the Great Smokey Mountains and soon the trium­ phant escape was heard of by other Indians. Hun­ dreds joined him, including my father who was the chief of his own tribe and a great and respected medicine man. For many days they lived off of roots and berries. Without weapons they were unable to kill wild animals for food, and were soon facing starvation. William Thomas, a white man who had traded with the tribes in North Carolina and gained their respect, knew the mountains and was sent to find

The route crossed by the Cherokee Indians as they traveled the “ Trail of Tears” to Oklahoma.

March-April 1984

them. He came to Tsali with a message from a General Scott: if Tsali and his family would sur­ render, the rest of the Cherokees hiding in the mountains could go free. Tsali, his sons, and his brothers surrendered themselves to the white man, and all except Tsali’s young son were executed by a firing squad. The 300 Cherokees who were freed by Tsali’s sacrifice became the Cherokee nation that now ex­ ists in the mountains of North Carolina. It was in­ to this small beginning that I was born. W e lived in a small log cabin and farmed the land around us. My father was no longer a chief, for his tribe had gone westward, now buried in shallow graves along the trail of tears, or living a new life with their western Indian brothers. Even so he was still greatly respected for his knowledge of healing, and was sought out by his own people and by the white men as well. I would follow him into the woods as he gathered berries, bark, and roots for his potions. I learned much from watching him prepare his medicines, but never reached his level of skill.

They fought violently, overcame their captors, and escaped into the mountains. They hid in a cave in the Great Smokey Mountains and soon the triumphant escape was heard of by other Indians.

My mother told me often of how he was once a great man, walking tall and proud among his peo­ ple; his eyes catching the sun and flashing fire. The father I knew bore no resemblance to the man she spoke of. For as long as I could remember, he was old and bent. His eyes no longer flashed fire but were sad and empty as if the flame of hope and dreams had been forever quenched. All that remained was a burnt-out shell of a man. He fed his despair on the white man’s whiskey and would drink himself into a stupor of forgetfulness. Yet he was always a kind and gentle man and treated my mother with respect. He called her Ghighau, or “ beloved woman,” and it seemed she was the only reason he lived at all. She could bring a smile to his lips even in his darkest moments and was the sunshine of his life. The Indian women were highly regarded and in the days before the Cherokee nation was split they occupied high positions in the Tribal Councils. My mother said that although the women held a posi­ tion of honor we should never forget that it was 17

With Grandma’s writing I found sketched representations of her life and culture. Here she shows the conflict between the Indian culture and Christian faith at the time of her mother’s death.

ceived him as my own Savior, and my faith has been my strength throughout the years. The mis­ sionaries gave me a Bible covered in soft, black leather, and I have kept it with me to this day. It is not only a reminder of my childhood but it con­ tains the promise of my future. only because the man had placed us there. A wife was subject to her husband and the children were taught to obey their father without question. So even though I felt my father was a broken man, I respected and obeyed him. My father felt the Cherokee way of life was gone forever and that eventually we all would be swallowed up by the white man’s way of life. He had resigned himself to the belief that his descendants would survive only by becoming a part of the white man’s world. My mother, however, believed that as long as a remnant of the nation survived, we would prosper. She knew we would never regain the lands we had lost or be the great multitude as before but, that we could co­ exist in the white man’s world and still be a proud and independent people. She was rooted in Cherokee tradition yet, adopted many of the white man’s practices. She taught me to make beautiful deerskin clothing, yet we wore the long cotton dresses and starched bonnets of the white women. I wore soft deerskin moccasins except on Sundays, when I had to wear stiff, black, button up shoes to church. Long before I was born, my mother had been converted to Christianity. When I was eight she started sending me to the mis­ sionary school on the reservation where I was taught to read and write English. It was here, too, that I learned of the virgin birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who came to save all people. I re18

When I was 18 my mother contracted smallpox and all of my father’s knowledge of medicine could not cure her. We buried her on a grassy hillside behind the house facing west toward the evening sun. Father was not a Christian and believed the spirit of a Cherokee returned westward to some unknown land from where the Great Spirit had brought the first Cherokee into these eastern lands centuries ago. After mother’s death, my father began spending most of his time at a trading post just outside the reservation. The trading post was also a saloon and here he would trade furs and trinkets for whiskey. I would go with him, and after he drank himself senseless I would load him onto his horse and take him home. Toward evening the trad­ ing post would fill with an assortment of moun­ tain men, Indians, and barroom women. I would stand behind my father’s chair and ignore the snears and vulgar language of the men as they gawked at me. One night when his jug ran dry he offered to trade the soft deerskin vest he wore for more whiskey. There were no takers, and finally in desperation he pointed to me and said, “ Here is my daughter, I’ll trade her to any man for 4 jugs of good whiskey.” A man who had been sitting quietly at a table nearby rose to his feet and sat down at my father’s The Mountain Spirit

table. “ Your daughter is an Indian woman,” he said in a country drawl. “ To a white man she ain’t worth 4 jugs of good whiskey.” My father studied the man for awhile in silence then he replied in a clear voice that gave no indica­ tion of his drunkenness, “ This is my daughter, a princess in her own right, for I was once chief of my own tribe who went the way of the trail of tears. She is of royal blood and will make any man an honorable and dutiful wife. She is of strong back and clear eye and has never been any man’s woman. You are a fool if you do not recognize what is now before you.” The man leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and looked me up and down. I stood straight as an oak, but I let my eyes wander over him boldly. His eyes were blue and his dark hair was thick in unkempt curls. His beard was long, covering most of his weathered face which was that of a young man in his early twenties. He was a big man but too skinny for his height, and looked almost comical with his long lanky arms and too-large hands. I decided he was a farmer and out of place here. Maybe he had come to trade furs but that wasn’t how he made his living, for his hands were too rough and calloused. “ I’ll give you 2 jugs of whiskey and promise not the beat her,” said the man suddenly, as if restless under my gaze.

$ Grandma’s note on this sketch: “ Gone to my beaver-trapping camp. Back in two days.”

My father thought for a moment then agreed. He took my hand and handed me over to the stranger. “ Go into the white man’s world and never look back. May your future there be free of the shadow of sorrow which now hangs over the Cherokee nation.”

The next morning he loaded up his mule and told me, we were going to his home in Kentucky. Up until now I had not spoken, but now I told him I would not go with him as his woman unless we were made man and wife under the eyes of God by a Christian minister. At first he laughed but when he saw I would not go with him he relented and told me to go find a preacher. So we were married. As we said our wedding vows, I heard his name for the first time. It was Garriet Boles.

Those were the last words I ever heard from my father, I never saw him again. The white man gave him the whiskey and led me out into the dark. That night I ceased being an Indian maiden and became a white man’s woman.

I enjoyed our venture through the wilderness to my new home in Kentucky. The days were spent walking and talking, and I learned much about my new husband. He was kind and gentle, and I found myself amused at how little he knew about

March-April 1984

19

the Cherokees. I think he was almost afraid I would scalp him as he lay sleeping. It was many days before he realized, I was really a civilized woman. The day before we arrived at our Kentucky home we stopped in a small town where Garriet bought me a pair of button up shoes. The only things I had brought with me were the dress I wore and my Bible, which I carried always. I was wear­ ing my moccasins, and Garriet said that from now on I either had to wear the store-bought shoes or go barefoot. He said there would be quite an uproar from his family when they found out he had married an Indian, but that if I dressed like a white woman and kept my mouth shut about my Indian heritage everything would work out. He made me promise that I would not teach our children any of the Indian ways or ever refer to my life at the reservation to anyone. He said that from now on I would be a white woman. So I vowed all these things to my husband and I never spoke of the things my mother had taught me; about the trail of tears and the old ways of my fathers. I was a faithful wife to my husband and worked hard by his side in the fields for as long as he lived. Many of his white brothers accepted me but in just as many the fire of hate never ceased to burn in their souls toward the Indians. When Garriet died today I felt freed from my promise to him. I went

out to the foot of the mountains, and I cried out to the rocks, the trees, and the sky. I told them I was a Cherokee and my fathers were here before the white man. I asked the mountains if they remembered the buffalo that once moved across them like black thunder; if they remembered the great stands of virgin timber that once adorned them; if they remembered the Cherokees who took no more from them except what they needed to survive and respected the balance of nature. I felt the sorrow of my father for what was lost for all eternity and I felt the joy of my mother in her hope for the future. I cried out to the sky, I am not a white woman! I have loved a white man, I have lived in his world and raised his children with the white man’s ideas and dreams, but I am not a white woman! I am Cherokee and my spirit has not been broken though I kept my silence through the years! I am a Cherokee! Grandma sighed and I put down the papers and went to her side. A faint smile crossed her lips, then she was gone. I felt no sorrow fo r I knew she had gone to a kingdom where prejudice and hatred did not exist, and at long last, her spirit was truly free. “ I Am a Cherokee!” gives a fictional account of events in the family history of Beverly Carter Sexton. Beverly gathered her information from the oral history of her mother’s family and from Cherokee Sunset by Samuel Carter, 111, Doubleday, Inc. Garden City, NY, 1976. Carter is a distant cousin of Beverly.

According to legend, the bird burned itself to ashes on a pyre and rose youthfully alive from the ashes to live again.

20

The Mountain Spirit

News o f Our Neighbors

For years—beginning as a teenager—I have been collecting documents and other bits of infor­ mation about my family. Informa­ tion about when they lived, what they did, how they lived, and their personalities have always caught my attention. To write a biography of an ancestor is difficult at best, unless you have the use of their letters, an autobiographical sketch, diaries, or the use of similar manuscripts pro­ duced by their friends and relatives. As is often the case with most peo­ ple, these kind of sources are nonexistant in their families. Such is the case with my grand­ father. He is a man of few words. He writes and speaks sparingly. So on a long weekend, after preparing some questions, my grandfather allowed me to turn on a small tape recorder and talk to him about his life as a farmer in Breckinridge County, Kentucky.

The Story of Appalachians, by Appalachians

by Glen Edward Taul

The tape recording of my grand­ father’s experiences and of in­ dividuals of any group, whether it be a family, a company, a race, or a community, is known today as oral history, according to Anne Camp­ bell, Appalachian librarian at the University of Kentucky’s Margaret I. King Library. It is allowing the participants of a group to tell their story vocally. The popularity of oral history has been steadily rising for the past several years. Terry Birdwhistle, director of the oral history program at the King Library, gives two reasons for the increased populari­ ty. During the past decade, the in­ terest in family, community, and state history in particular, and social history in general, has increased. For this kind of history, oral history is an excellent way of recovering its records. Before the practice of recording oral history, historians depended on letters, diaries, chronicles, and other written documents of the educated and famous to write the history of political and military events. Manuscripts were unavailable for the writing of life in local comMarch-April 1984

CAP volunteers learn much o f the past when they visit the elderly. munities. Oral history provides a way of gathering that type of infor­ mation, Birdwhistle said. Another reason for oral history’s popularity is the technological ad­ vances in small tape recorders. “ They are easier to use thereby making people more comfortable with them,” Birdwhistle said. A tape recorder and an inquiring mind is all that a person needs to become involved in oral history.

Oral history is important to any culture that roots its past in oral traditions. Harry M. Caudill wrote,“ In their solitude the people [Kentucky Appalachians] . . . repeated the old traditions to their children . . . .” This oral tradition has been a major impediment to writing the history of Appalachians, according to historian Ronald D. Eller. Fortunately, the popularity of 21

oral history coincided with the renewed interest in the state of Ap­ palachia. Until recently, the story of Appalachia was told by writers who were not natives. Oral history gives Appalachians the opportunity for the first time to “ tell the story themselves,” Birdwhistle said. The oral history program at the University of Kentucky was started in 1973. Birdwhistle said the pro­ gram seeks to document all aspects of Kentucky’s history and culture by means of oral interviews. “ We’ve done political projects, Appalachian projects, black history projects, Kentucky literature, and the arts,” Birdwhistle said. There are nearly 1,500 interviews and over 2,000 hours of tape available to researchers at the special collections division of Kentucky’s Margaret I. King Library. In addition to doing their own projects, Birdwhistle said his department assists other organiza­ tions with their oral history project for example, the Frontier Nursing Service (see The Mountain Spirit, January-February, 1984) in the Eastern Kentucky county of Leslie contacted the university for help in documenting their history. Over 200 interviews have been completed, and in the process m any manuscripts relating to FNS were discovered and deposited at the university archives. The oral history program for Ap­ palachia is designed to supplement the books and manuscripts in the King Library’s Appalachian collec­ tion, the core of which contains some 3,000 books and twenty periodicals, and this is further sup­ plemented by Kentucky county records and county newspapers from the 19th and 20th centuries. These oral recountings provide stories of people not mentioned in histories. For example, Campbell said, “ The stories of the people who work for the Frontier Nursing Ser­ vice aren’t in the books anywhere.” The oral history interviews con­ ducted to date, Birdwhistle said, 22

Terry Birdwhistle and Ann Campbell converse in the Appalachian Collection.

reveal the region’s diversity; there being a variety of subcultures within the Appalachian culture. The stories of people with varied backgrounds in a variety of communities has never been documented until now. A m ericans have had a stereotypical image of Appalachia. “ What oral history does by talking to individuals throughout the region,” Birdwhistle said, “ is to record and document the diversity of the region. It documents that there are rich and poor, middle class, educated an non-educated.” The interviews also document the rich cultural heritage that has developed—folk medicine, oral tradition, music, literature. The history program has a continuing program on the history of broad­ casting and the Kentucky Mountain Club in Lexington, and is planning a project to supplement the papers of East Kentucky writer James Still. Oral history provides the means to document the changes which oc­ cur in the common man’s lifestyle; changes that occur even in rural,

agricultural communities, Birdwhis­ tle said. Changes may seem like they happen immediately, but how it has affected the common man will re­ main unknown until he is asked. Oral histories are like tributaries to a primary river of history. “ When you do family history and you do community history, you find that eventually it will relate to the state’s history and it will relate to the national history,” Birdwhistle said. Oral history is looking at past events from the bottom rather than from the top. P ro fessio n al and am ateur historians alike will attend the Oral History Association’s 1984 annual meeting in Lexington, Kentucky, 20-23 September. The conference will feature papers and noted speakers on various historical topics, and workshops tailored to different levels of experience. Everyone is welcome to come. If you are interested in more informa­ tion, contact Oral History Associa­ tion, c/o Ronald E. Marcello, NT Box 13734, Denton, Texas 76203. The Mountain Spirit

O n first glance there is nothing extraordinary about Gary Wayne Love. He’s an affable, out­ going 20-year-old fellow from Owensboro, Ken­ tucky. He’s well spoken, has a good job, and likes to fiddle around with his ’74 Chevy Malibu, run, and play the guitar. Talking to Gary makes you feel good about young people. Ask him, though, and Gary will tell you of the changes he’s made in himself over the last three years. In February of 1981, after several troubled years of adolescence, Gary found himself “ sent,” as he said, to the Christian Appalachian Project Group Home at Camp Nelson, Kentucky. Gary says he remembers thinking, “ wait a minute! They didn’t say anything about a camp!” Even so, Gary recalls, his first impressions of the CAP Group Home were not too bad. “ When I first got here, the music was up pretty loud, and everybody was shooting pool.” Gary said it looked like a pretty good place to him, but before long he realized that the year in store for him would be a lot more than shooting pool and listening to rock music. The Group Home, established by CAP in 1975, serves juvenile delinquents ages sixteen through eighteen, giving them their last chance to change the destructive patterns of their lives before adulthood. Although the boys are “ sent” to the Group Home, as Gary was, they are kept in the program only if they have a sincere desire, coupled with demonstrable work, to change their values, their attitudes, and their lives. During Gary’s first weeks at the Group Home he made a contract with staff and the other boys in the home which set out his goals, and the goals which the others encouraged him to reach. Every boy enters into a similar contact, which clearly states the areas of their lives that need to be changed, and definite ways in which goals can be attained. All of Gary’s activities from that time on were focused on making him self-sufficient when he finished his year in the Group Home.

Gary

Every day the boys go to work at Opportunity Workshop of Lexington (OWL). In a sheltered employment situation the boys learn a variety of skills, and work habits which make them “ employable” in the general work force. Upon completion of OWL’s training program, which can be nine months or more, depending on the boy, they are awarded a certificate and are then eligible to be hired by OWL. One of the main goals in this phase of the Group Home program is that every boy should work until he is hired. Four nights a week, after work, Gary devoted himself to studying for the General Equivalency Development test (GED). The GED certifies that a March-April 1984

by Margaret Gabriel 23

person has completed high school, but in many ways is more difficult to obtain than a diploma from many Kentucky high schools. Each boy works at his own pace, on his own level, but all are committed to taking—and passing—the GED, and beginning vocational school. After nearly a year in the Group Home, Gary and his counselor, Mrs. Harriet Kidney, felt that he was prepared to take the test. He passed, and was admitted into the Industrial Electricity pro­ gram at the Central Kentucky Vocational School in Lexington. “ We try to suit the boy to the voca­ tion that he wants,” explained Mrs. Kidney, who is also the education coordinator for the Group Home. “ We did a lot of thinking with Gary, and talking with Gary. As a result, he got in. All of the boys don’t go—some don’t meet the re­ quirements, and I’m not about to put a kid in there who is not going to stay. It gives us a bad reputation, and it’s bad for the boy. Gary said that his interest in electronics came from the knowledge that it would be a good, steady line of work. Several people in his family make their living in electronics. A general aptitude for math and science eased the way for him. Without those skills, Mrs. Kidney said he would not have been allowed into the program. Since his graduation from vocation school in October of 1983, Gary has been working for a company called Muzak in Lexington. It’s a young company which started out installing systems for music in restaurants, and has progressed to install­ ing “ code blues” for heart patients in hospitals, electric gates, and amplification systems. Gary likes the work. It provides a variety of activities, and he likes and respects the people he works with every day.

“ We stress the importance of vocational school,” Mrs. Kidney emphasized. “ It’s their decision to make, and whether or not they remain in there is their decision also, but we do everything we possibly can. We give them vocational tests ahead of time. There are tests at OWL, coor­ dinated with what they have learned in the GED studies, and Gary even took an ACT (American College Testing). We felt, at the time that he went into vocational school, that this would be a preliminary thing, and once he passed it that he would go on to something bigger and better.” While Gary sees the value and importance of the strides he has made in his education and his career, he feels that the most important changes that he has made were in the more intangible areas of attitudes and values. “ I’m more responsible than I was when I first came here, more honest, more dependable than I used to be. I’m a better worker, too. I can see that a whole lot. I used to be 24

pretty lazy. But when you work with Moe, Moe works that out with you!” Moe Mercier, now CAP’S Director of Human Development, was the Group Home director during Gary’s first two years at Camp Nelson. “ The work I’m doing now almost seems like nothing compared to the way we used to work for Moe.” Gary says that he remembers resisting these changes in himself at first, but finally realized, “ ‘all right, this is what’s got to be done, and you’ve got to change it.’ When I was here it was a year program, so I had a year to do it. I’d say the first four months are probably the roughest, because you’re experiencing a lot of changes at that time, then the seventh or eighth month you kind of ease out a little bit, calm down. By the time the ninth, tenth, eleventh month comes around you’re either working hard on your pro­ gress, or not doing anything at all.” Mrs. Kidney said that “ some of them will go the very last minute, and then all of a sudden at the very last minute say, ‘boy I should have been do­ ing this a long time ago—making changes.’ Gary was pretty normal. He started to change about the fourth month. We find that the fourth month is a

I ’m more responsible than I was when I first came here . . . I ’m a better worker, too. I can see that a whole lot. crucial month for a lot of the boys. If they haven’t gone AWOL by that time, then they will in the fourth month. If they do, then chances are that when they come back they’ll level things out.” A crucial aspect of life in the Group Home is the relationships between the boys. The program ac­ cepts eight boys at any one time, and many of them experience closer relationships than they have ever had—even within their families. “ At first I didn’t know anybody here,” Gary remembers, “ and I didn’t trust any of them until probably the second or third month I was here. Then it got a lot better. I learned I could trust them with things.” Trust is not something that just comes overnight—it must be earned, and Gary feels that earning people’s trust is one of his most important changes at the Group Home. “ If somebody would tell me something, and they were being really serious, and I laughed at him because of it, that’s not really trust. This guy came to me, trusting that I would listen to him, and not laugh at him, or make a fool of him. I think that’s got a lot to do with it. If somebody has a fault, and people keep picking on him, The Mountain Spirit

Gabriel

Gary fixed a broken lamp for Mrs Kidney.

laughing at him, he’s not going to say anything else to them anymore. He’s just going to avoid them.” It’s a matter of accepting people the same way you want to be accepted, Gary said, but “ it’s hard.”

March-April 1984

“ I don’t think they really appreciate the dif­ ficulties that he’s had to surmount,” Mrs. Kidney observed, “ because they were not here during some of those periods when Gary was having a rough way to go. I think somebody who was here before could say, ‘gee, Gary made it. That’s wonderful.’ When he came here, he had as many problems as anybody else. I can’t say they were any less. I can’t say they were really that much more. But he did have a rough way to go.” Gary feels that one of his biggest advantages was his good relationship with his two brothers, and his mother, who still lives in Owensboro. He CAP Archives

Gary’s personal changes during this time were made even more evident by the progress that he was making in his education. “ I was tired of not getting anywhere, with just odds and ends jobs. I worked at an ice plant, I worked as a janitor—I can’t see doing that the rest of my life. I wanted something that was a promising job. I think that was most of it.” Gary’s last “ odds and ends” job was at Kroger’s, a grocery store in Nicholasville. The money he earned there, along with assistance from the CETA program (a federally funded job training program, which is now defunct), enabled him to meet his expenses while he was going to school. Mrs. Kidney said that Gary main­ tained a rough schedule during that time. “ At 8:00 a.m. he had to be at vocational school. He worked there until three, then he’d grab a ride any which way he could to get back to Kroger’s. He worked very odd hours. He’d come home for an hour, and have to be right back again. So many a time, Gary was left standing on the doorstep, waiting for somebody to give him a ride home, or to take him in. He went through a lot that an ordinary kid would not have done. Meanwhile, he kept up his grades—kept a good average. It takes a lot of tenacity; it takes a lot of guts to go through a thing like that.

Gary lives in a trailer adjacent to the Group Home, and participates actively in the Group Home Post Program. “ We gather together the boys who have been in the program, and we also have a newspaper that we sent out,” Mrs. Kidney said. “ This keeps them together somewhat.” The benefits of Gary’s proximity to the Group Home, though, is probably of more benefit to the boys who are currently in the program. He definitely sees himself as an example to any boy who sets his sights to do what he wants to do, and makes definite plans as to how he will accomplish those goals. “ 1 think it helps them out, that they can see me making it. It shows them that if I can make it, they can make it. I started out with the same things they’ve got now, and I made something out of it. I like to think, anyway, that it shows that they can make something out of it, too.” Gary lets this pride in his accomplishments show through, and says that he shares these feelings with the boys in the program. “ I think it jars their minds, and makes them stop and think about it. ‘This guy started out like me, he started out with what I’ve got, and look at what he’s got now.’ It’s not that high and mighty, but it’s a lot better than what I started out with.”

The CAP Group Home at Camp Nelson.

25

didn’t appreciate the value of those relationships at first. “ At the time, I felt deprived because I wasn’t raised up with my father. I know a lot of kids who were raised up with their fathers, and it hurt me a lot, but I learned to live with it. From the first week or two I was here, though, I really started to appreciate my mom. She’d write me at least once a week, and she came up to see me every visiting Sunday. That told me a lot.’’ Despite the fact that Gary goes to Owensboro about once a month, to visit with his mom, and to see some other people that he still keeps up with, he has no desire to move back. “ There are no jobs there, no businesses there whatsoever. It’s a dead town.” It’s hard to go back, Mrs. Kidney pointed out. “ It’s not easy for somebody who’s been in his predicament to go out in the world, especially if you go back to your home town. They’ll always point the finger, and they’ll not be too willing to accept somebody who has been, so-called delin­ quent. I think it makes it harder for the boys to adjust to the community. But for somebody who has had the ability to go through vocational school, and has got something that he can show the world, ‘hey, look, I’ve done this,’ it makes them feel so much better that they are better.” Gary said that he likes to go home, and doesn’t really care about what people say about the way he was before he left. He feels that he’s accomplished something, and is proud to tell it. He laughed as he said, “ I get a kick out of going home now and running into old friends. They’ll ask ‘what are you doing now? Where are you living?’ I’ll tell them, and I’ll see them thinking, ‘is this the same guy I knew three years ago?” ’

X

There’s some pressure involved in “ making it,” as Gary and Mrs. Kidney refer to his success. Mrs. Kidney, and the other staff people at the Group Home have contributed a lot of hard work to the work that Gary has put in himself. “ It’s not something that I can say I did all by myself. It can also show what somebody helped me do. I think that’s a good point, too. There were a lot of times when I was discouraged at school, and just having somebody to talk to was a big help.” Eventually Gary would like to own his own elec­ tronics business. That will involve taking another test to obtain his contractors’s license, but he feels confident that after he gets some experience behind him, and has a good three months to study for the test, it’s a perfectly attainable goal. And that is what makes Gary Wayne Love such a special person—perhaps even a modern day pioneer. He has attained goals that would be far out of reach for many young men, but as he has reached each one, he has set out new goals for himself, and continues to work at being the best person he can possibly be. cap. 26

The Mountain Spirit

Daniel Boone Hero fo r Every Age

“The year o f 1782 was not called the ‘y ear o f blood’fo r nothing. ” Rev. Ralph Belting —

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Adventures o f Daniel Boone Illustrated by Kentucky artist Freddie Johnson, this lively children’s book uses stories from the life of Daniel Boone to introduce children and young people to a vision of American history that stresses the virtues of courage and patriotism. 32 pp. $2.00.

Order either o f these histories by the Reverend Ralph Belting fo r your reading enjoyment. Or order both books and receive them fo r the special rate o f $4.50. To order, use the order form in the fo ld o f the magazine, and the attached envelope. Please enclose check or money order payable to Christian Appalachian Project.