Rednecromancer

A Fatal Mistake

So.

You are working with Appalachian communities and their negativity is driving you crazy.  What did you expect?  Did you believe that your sunny disposition and can-do attitude was going to change 800 years of socialization?  Or did you actually think that the famed Appalachian fatalism was some myth like hillbilly inbreeding and violence?  The inbreeding and violence are indeed filthy lies but the fatalism is one of the defining features of the Appalachian psychology.  But it isn't as bad as all that.

You must first realize that you cannot change these people and you have to find a way to work within their culture.  I also want you to understand that not only is it impossible to change the individual mind sets of these good people, this fatalism is probably a justified and healthy response to centuries of strife that they have had little power to avoid.

It is commonly believed by Appalachian scholars that around 70% of the originals settlers to the area were Scotch-Irish.  The label isn't exactly accurate as this number includes many groups from around the Irish Sea who were neither Scots nor Irish but northwestern English and Welsh.  Some quarter of a million people immigrated to the American backcountry between 1717 and the Revolutionary War.  There are a number of cases of whole villages moving to the new world.

This becomes important for us when we examine the experience of these peoples starting in the 13^th Century.  Life in Europe and the world was brutal at this time. Childbirth dropped the life expectancy of women to 25 years of age and many if not a majority of children never reached adulthood.  But existence along the Scottish borders had the additional horror of cross border warfare with England and  almost constant raiding between lairds and by the Gaelic highlanders.  Why would anyone use mortar to build the walls of their home when the raiders will just pull them down?   We begin to see why these people may have developed a fatalistic world view.

It would seem that some of these farmers in southwest Scotland caught a break when James VI of Scotland became James I of England.  James thought it a good idea to send farmer from the southwest of Scotland to northern Ireland (Ulster) to farm the lands that had been seized from unruly Catholic nobles.  The Scottish farmers were good Protestants and in need of better farmland since they had been plowing rocks.  Unfortunately the displaced Catholics were not pleased with this new plantation. The violent results continue to this day in Northern Ireland.

To add to the frustration of these Scotch-Irish their linen trade began to flourish until the Woolens Act of 1699 and a six year drought brought the happy days to an abrupt end.  The Test Act of 1704 had made it illegal for Presbyterians to hold public office and even called into question the legitimacy of their marriages.  Once again these people were on the move with an invitation from the Penns.  James Logan the acting governor of Pennsylvania actively recruited these Irish Protestants to settle in the western reaches of the colony.  As he told the Penn family, he hoped that these rugged Scots who had been so effective against the wild Irish in Ulster could be a human frontier between the savages and the civilized east.   

These people were probably more in control of their destinies than at anytime in their history but the treaties the east made with the native populations and the raids by enemies both native American and European must have struck the Scotch-Irish and their Rhineland German neighbors as capricious. 

Eventually the wars with the native peoples calmed down ( we killed them all off with war and disease ) and a difficult but sustainable life opened up for these new Americans.  The people of the hills had little in common with the people in the flatlands.  This was especially true in the slave states.  The Appalachian counties were denied equal representation and suffered neglect but for the most part they had their freedom.

The Civil War thrust the Appalachians between two feuding factions once again.  West Virginia stayed with the Union as did Kentucky.  The fighting in the hills was personal and brutal.  And when it was over West Virginia has the unique insult of having to pay reparations to Virginia.  The famed feuds which became a common Appalachian stereotype had more to do with unresolved conflict as a result of the Civil War fueled by a changing economic environment that some innate propensity toward violence.  Indeed Appalachian counties are among the least violent in the nation and West Virginia is one of the few states without a death penalty.

Appalachians have since been gunned down by company thugs and their own military not to mention being swept away in flash floods caused by irresponsible mining practices. I will remind our readers that the Buffalo Creek Disaster took place in 1972.

So Appalachians are a bit negative. Can anyone blame them? 

The reality is that this fatalism is no more than “knocking on wood”.  “If the good Lord is willing and the creek don't rise,” is a common American saying that captures the attitude of most Appalachians.  All they are saying is that given their experience they aren't going to get their hopes up.  It doesn't mean that they are not going to make the effort it is just that they are going to temper their hope just in case.  It is my firm belief that this caution keeps the average Appalachian from slipping into despair. Once they see this trait for what it is, the mature organizer will be able to accept this negativity as a benign element of the Appalachian culture or at its best a valuable self defense mechanism.

Bigfoot Hills of Appalachian Ohio

Not Your Typical Bigfoot Movie provides a look at the trials and triumphs of life in the Appalachian foot hills.  Through the experience of Dallas and Wayne, two amateur Bigfoot researchers in southern Ohio, we see how the power of a dream can bring two men together in friendship and provide hope and meaning that transcend the harsh realities in a dying steel town. -- from the official website

 

I got an email from my cousin Shane yesterday with a link to his new movie.  Shane (who is my first cousin once removed or commonly referred to as a second cousin) is a tortured artist and cinematographer.  We usually spend at least a few minutes chatting about our similar interests at most every family gathering.    So this past Strickland family reunion at the governor's residence he told me that his film had been accepted to the South by Southwest Film Festival in Austin.  I don't think the news was common knowledge so I kept it under my hat until I got this email.  To give you an idea of the stature of SXSW, the new Harold and Kumar movie will premiere at the festival.

 

On the surface the film is a documentary about two Bigfoot researchers, Dallas and Wayne, and their struggles to get their material reviewed.  In reality the film is about the indestructible Appalachian spirit.  It also looks to be a cry for assistance on behalf of our beloved Scioto County.

Anyone familiar with the Jesco White documentaries may be a bit concerned that this is just another exploitation doc but I am certain that this is not the case.  Shane and his friends have worked with a number of non-profit organizations in our region. Habitat for Humanity is among the better known.  The crew is from the Lucasville-Otway areas of Scioto County which gives them extreme hillbilly credibility.  There may be areas of Appalachian Ohio that are closer to the center of the region but there can be no areas that are closer in spirit.

 

The ethics of this type of documentary also depends not just on how the subjects are depicted in the film but how they are treated afterwards.  The fact that a bunch of folks had to have a fund raiser to buy cord wood for Jesse White while his documentaries were being sold by a commercial distributor is proof in my mind that ethics were breeched.   

 

 

This documentary offers Dallas and Wayne a chance to reach their primary goal of having the mainstream media pay attention to their “research” which is more than I think this pair of buddies had ever hoped for. Knowing Shane as I do and my conversations with Jay cause me to believe that this film is more similar to Country Boy in its treatment of its subjects.  I have witnessed the better angels of our nature with David Sutherland's Country Boys and the power of these small films to draw attention to the real Appalachia.   

This film is all the more poignant for me as this is about my Appalachia.

edited 2-22-08 7:10PM

 

Time to change the Neighbors?

Heading south on SR23 for a visited at mom and dad's the other day, I noticed a billboard that read:

“Time to change the Neighbors”

It was an advertisement for a national residential builder and developer.  As a matter of fact when we were hunting for our last house in Virginia, I looked at one of their “developments.”  It was basically the same type of development that we were moving from only it was located in a rural area with larger lots.  It was still the same kind of neighborhood where everyone is from someplace else and nobody stayed for more than four years.  This is one of the three or four simple reasons that America is such a Charlie Foxtrot.

Rednecromancer is a website dedicated to Appalachians both at home and abroad, (any place that ain't Appalachia) but it is also a site dedicated to global hillbilly world domination and the hillbilly way of life.  You can find hillbilly traits among non-hillbillies and in areas outside of Appalachia.  Not surprisingly these areas often have high concentrations of hilljacks. My current neighborhood is a good example.

I have neighbors on either side.  Both are hilljacks.  Bob is from the Stubenville area.  He is an accountant, Viet Nam vet, widower, newly-wed and Freemason.  Lynn on the other side is only the second owner of a nearly 90 year old home and native of West Virginia.  Lynn is likewise a widow but newly engaged.  Kathryn, Lynn's daughter was among the various kids who came out to see my band and the other bands some 15 years ago.  One of  Lynn's son's did some student teaching at my old high school when he was a student at Marshall University.   Bob and his new wife Suzanne and Lynn had a party for the purpose of introducing us to the neighborhood.  It was kind of like a belling.

Most of the other parents I meet in the school yard are from this community and a good many of them went to this very same school.  We often find that we have friends in common and I didn't even grow up in this community.

Staying in one place is good.  I know that there is a wanderlust streak in many hillbillies but I think the vast majority like to sink their roots deep down and around the rocky hillsides.  But it isn't just hillbillies who find comfort in familiar surroundings and continuity.  Most human being do.  Problem is that modern-popular culture and television has worked to make a good many people think that they need more than they have and that moving in order to take a job to make more money is a good idea. 

It ain't.

Don't misunderstand me.  Appalachia is having a difficult time providing a living for native hillbillies. This is saying something seeing as most hillbillies need much less in the way of material objects to be happy.  So one cannot blame the folks who move from the hills so they can provide the basics for their families.  This is probably why hill folks get so homesick. They are actually happy living in the hills among their own folk. Most people are.

It flies in the face of being politically correct and multi-cultural but research on “happiness” is demonstrating that living in a homogeneous community is one of the greatest factors when it comes to being happy.  To be honest I think I lot of this “happiness” crap is just that and only goofy American academics would think that it would be possible to quantify happiness but this is the results of the findings.  Oh they want to say that Iceland and Denmark are happy because they are socialist, and they may be but they are also happy because they are about as homogeneous as you can get.  I am sure however that some dolt will quote some exceptions that will do nothing more than prove the rule.

Typical xenophobic hillbilly?  Not at all.  I neither fear nor hate the other.  I do understand how being with folks who see the world the same way you do can be less stressful.  I also think that America is large enough to handle a patchwork of communities without cramming diversity down each others throats.

Another bit of research some years ago by a Finnish group found that grandmothers were critical to the health and development of children.  This explains why women live on after  they can no longer have children of their own while men remain fertile but live on borrowed time after 70.  It is pretty hard to be a good grandmother living in Tampa while your grandkids are living in St. Paul.  So we have a double whammy here.  Folks who move their children away from their parents for work and folks who abandoned their grandchildren for Miami and Scottsdale. 

Some sledtrack then gets the great idea of bringing school kids in after school to retirement centers so that the children have a place to go after they get off school and before their dual income parent get off work and the old folks have something to distract them from the fact that they are about to die, probably alone.  And I am sure that there is probably more than a few government grants to “facilitate” such encounters. 

I got an idea.  Let's stop moving about the country and destroying our nurturing communities!  Tell the big money Delberts to move the jobs to where people already live and preferably to a place that has water.  If your old and cold put a kid on your lap instead of moving 1,000 miles away where you expect the federal government to rebuild your home after every hurricane.

Our neighbors are fine.  It's our minds that need changing.

Were you born in a barn?

Versions of this idiomatic phrase asking someone to “shut the door” are universal.  The Russian version is “were you born in an elevator.”  This site from the UK gives a fairly likely origin of the phrase in English.  It also removes some of the irony of a Christian using the phrase in a derisive fashion.  Christ was after all born in a barn.  Most of us Americans (the unlucky and the Appalachians) are today born in hospitals unless our parents were hippies.  Even the current fad of converting barns into houses shouldn't add to the barn born population.  Although hippies are some of the most keen for the barn to house craze.

There was a time in the western world when people and livestock occupied the same living space.  I reckon it was for heat and security.  There have been recent studies that suggest that children raised in close proximity to livestock have a much lesser incidence of allergies.  Of course there is that whole bird flu thing.

I don't know anyone in my family who was born in a barn.  I was born in Mercy Hospital in Portsmouth, Ohio.  It had a hexagonal chapel with stained glass windows that dominated the front of the building so it was almost like being born in a church.  My dad had to demolish it a few years ago when he was the engineer for the local group of hospitals.  The old hospital with its asbestos and such could not be made safe for the patients so it was a difficult but rational decision.  I think dad was able to save the glass.

Although the living generations of my family have been born in hospitals or at home, some of us have lived in barns.  Some have lived more than once in a barn and some have died in them. 

My grandma died in a barn. 

To be honest it was an addition to the barn that was built when my uncle Ted moved back from Kentucky.  The barn had been converted into a home by my grandpa and older uncles when my grandparents' third home was destroyed by fire.  They lived in the chicken shack while the barn was undergoing its transformation.  Living in a barn may protect you from allergies but I reckon it provides you with no special defense against Polio.  My mom contracted Polio when she was a little girl of two years or so. With luck and the Shriners she was left only with a crippled foot and a slight limp.  She suffers the effects of post-Polio syndrome now but it beats the hell out of a short life in an iron lung.

You would hardly know that the old farm house was once a barn, it has white with its deep green trim and tin roof. It is cliché to talk about sleeping under a tin roof in a steady rain but there is a reason for that.  What I wouldn't give to fall asleep while my grandma rubbed my creek wadding tired back, under the portrait of Jesus while listening to the steady drumming of the Appalachian rain. 

The house is still there and my cousin Anita and her husband Mark have raised their family there.  Anita spent her last few years of high school in the barn before she went off to be a soldier.  Her childhood home burned and my grandpa sold the old home place to uncle Harry, Anita's dad.  Grandpa was ready for a smaller place closer to his favorite coffee shop where he would hold court with young men (newly retired 65+ crowd) and talk politics.

My uncle Harry died in the barn some years after grandma.  He was sitting at the kitchen table when grandma came back to get him.  I am glad he was there.  I am sure that made grandma's trip back to get him that much easier.  He recognized her immediately.

My grandpa died in the hospital at 92. I reckon that was 12 years ago.  My dad would stop in to check on him as dad made his rounds about the hospital.  The last thing grandpa said to my dad was, “Don't work too hard, Mike.”  Grandpa never thought anyone could work hard enough so that was quite a compliment to his son-in-law.

Grandpa had worked hard all his life and he could be cruel at times.  He was not cold but like many adults who are denied a childhood he could be a bit mean.  I have heard stories of grandpa living in a barn as a child after his father died. He was forced to work to help provide for the family and would often scour the railroad tracks for coal that had fallen from the coal cars.  And no this was NOT during the Great Depression; it was prior to WWI.  My great-grandmother (whom I obviously never met) was reported to have thought that Christmas trees were pagan and would not allow one in the home.  I am not sure what they would have decorated the tree with in the first place but getting a tree would have been easy and free.  When my grandma was older and tired and threatened that she was not going to bother putting up a Christmas tree since all the children had trees in their own homes, grandpa would always go up on the hill and bring down some little Charlie Brown tree. 

Grandpa loved toys.  The boys would often get him those naughty items like the guy-in-the-outhouse-who-pees-on-you if you open the door or somesuch item that used to be found in the cheesy tourist places back in the 1960s.  He had a mechanical chimp that screeched and played the cymbals that he just loved.  You pushed a button on its head and it would make this awful racket.  Grandpa would grin and flash his gold tooth.  At 90 he was still that poor little boy. 

The X-mas lights and Satan Claus are everywhere this Christmas and it is enough to shove even the most light hearted and tolerant Christian over in the dour, killjoy camp with my great-grandmother and John Knox.  I also risk excommunication when I proclaim that Christmas owns Easter.  Christmas should remind us of what great potential each child holds and how special the joy and wonder of childhood is and how it never leaves us no matter what we suffer.  In this spirit and on the more noble side of the excess of Christmas are the toy drives for the disadvantaged children.  As an example my friend Dan and some members of his woodworkers club build hundreds of beautiful wooden toys every  year.

Of course there are the unreformed Scrooges who are critical of these toy drives and argue that they just reinforce the behavior that leads to poverty.  I have news for you Skippy, the poor you will always have.  Ignoring poverty will not cause it to go away or cause people to be more responsible.  But those who believe that poverty can be cured are missing the point just as well.  I thank God for this broken world where I can prove and improve my soul by doing what is right.  It is like sniffing the mimeograph sheet of the quiz that you know you have most of the answers to.

Giving a gift to a child at Christmas is the right thing to do.  I doubt my grandpa would have been any less of a hard worker had he enjoyed a Christmas tree or a toy but he may have been a bit less harsh as an adult.  Childhood is good for children and it is up to us to insure that every child gets as much childhood as possible.  It is no easy task as  there are so many things that can intrude on it.  Obviously poverty, but there is the loss of a home perhaps by fire or flood.  Serious childhood illness robs many children of carefree play.  The death of a parent or custodian is nothing a young child should have to endure. A child doesn't have to have been born or live in a barn to deserve a gift at Christmas.  All children are to be pitied since eventually time and experience will take their childhood from them.

Were you born in a barn?  Shut the door!  But please keep your heart wide open.

Been Gone

Hey all you good hillfolk.

I have been unable to post for the past few weeks as we have been in the middle of moving.  Yes, I am back in Ohio and I beg my close friends to forgive me for keeping this all secret.  There were multiple reasons for not mentioning the move on the site but I have to admit that much of it on my part was a fear that I would jinx it like last time.  Us Appalachians are a superstitious bunch.

Needless to say the PO Box in Virginia will be useless as soon as the forwarding order runs out.  I reckon I will get a new one here in central Ohio.  All other contact info is the same but if you have sent an email you may want to resend as I just downloaded a thousand or so emails and I am sure my server dropped a few.

So I hope you all had a Happy Thanksgiving and I hope to be posting regular as soon as I can get Larry the Cable Guy to hook up my broadband.

Hillbilly Super Hero

You know how us hillbillies like to traded for stuff.  I just traded one of our readers, Michael Craine, some stickers for a sketch of Rednecromancer's icon.  Actually I would have sent Mike the stickers regardless so his hard work on this bit of artwork was just out of the goodness of his heart.

I have thought about the idea of a hillbilly super hero for years.  Actually some of us regulars at the Empty Glass in Charleston, WV would often brainstorm the notion after a few beers.  Sometimes we would get crazy and dream about Tim Truman heading up the project.  Tim who is a famous comic book artist is also a native of Gully Bridge, WV.

 

I could see this character as a revenant who embodies the Appalachian spirit.   A revenant is usually the spirit or reanimated corpse of a victim of a crime or injustice who returns to seek revenge.  This is an interesting but not so common literary feature.  The average hillbilly would be most familiar with Clint Eastwood's characters in Pale Rider and High Plains Drifter.   Appalachian horror writer, Scott Nicholson uses this device in his recent novel, The Farm.  All the same revenge, while understandable, is not a positive motive for any action from any hillbilly in any form living or dead so I would be uncomfortable with the traditional idea of a revenant.  “Vengeance is mine saith the Lord.”  My preference would be our hero aids and protects a community of hillbillies as opposed to avenging a wrong. Hey, you can still open up a can of Whoopass while protecting folks.

 

So why don't some of you folks who like to write fictions try your hand at spinning yarns about our hero? The only thing that needs to be a constant is that he (or she) is a mysterious hillbilly who helps other hillbillies in need and then slips away.  In my head he is not exactly an Uncle Sam  or John Bull (spirit of the British People) but similar.  He would appear differently to any community that needs his assistance.  Indeed he my not be a he at all.  Hints of his background would enhance the mystery but it would be breaking the rules to tell the reader exactly where the “stranger” was from or who he actually was.  Pretty open ended guidelines other than that.

Come on give it a try.

Comic and literary heroes

GrimJack

Solomon Kane

Eternal Champion

 

 

Our Crack won't kill you

Our crackers are another story.

 

This is the third and final in a series on Appalachian epithets.  Up until now we have dealt with labels that most true Appalachians would accept or at least recognize as fitting at least some of the hillbilly population.  We include cracker because of its historic connection to Appalachians and to put a finer point on the differences.

 

I reckon that most everyone has heard the term cracker used in a derogatory way towards European Americans mostly in the south.  Most anyone with an Internet connection probably knows something about the term originally meaning a loud braggart. My educated guess is that braggart could probably be more accurately replaced by raconteur given the context of the root word crack.  In the Anglo-Saxon languages of northern Britain, crack means fun usually in relation to a pub with music and drink.  I would assume that the German word gemutlikeit is similar in meaning.  We have the word in American English today in the from of a wisecrack or crack a joke. 

 

A few years ago while in Dublin I noticed provocative signs in the windows of the local pubs proclaiming, “Our Crack won't kill you.”  It would seem that southern Ireland had also absorbed the Scots-Irish word so totally that it had even been adopted into Irish Gaelic as “craic”. Indeed some young Irish are unaware that the word is foreign. 

 

In colonial American I could certainly see the other colonists turning the northern Brit's own word on them in a derogatory fashion.  These folks had to have gotten on their neighbors' nerves.  They were obnoxious and dour Covenanters on one hand and loud, whiskey swilling drunkards on the other.  A bunch of damn “crackers” I would think.  It isn't a good time until some Ulsterman breaks some crockery. 

 

In a way the term cracker is more fitting of Appalachians today than redneck.  Redneck with its origins in the Presbyterianism is more limiting than cracker.  I really have no problem being called a loud, joyful drunkard even if I haven't had a drink in 10 years.

 

But the truth is that cracker today has a much different meaning and I agree with some of our readers that I would be uncomfortable accepting the label with its current connotation.  For all of the negatives linked to the other Appalachian epithets, there is something more sinister about cracker.  There are a number of social clues that leads one to understand that there is just “something” about the term that unsettles folks.  Anyone who knows David Lowery's sensibilities would certainly deduce that there is something dark and ironic in the term for him to select it as the name of his post Camper van Beethoven band.  The fact that a number of Georgians and Floridians proudly call themselves crackers should not lead one to believe that they do so without owning its darker connotations.  There are many American sub-cultures who enjoy being seen as slightly dangerous and I tend to see cracker in this category.

 

I recall an encounter almost 25 years ago that defined the term for me and opened my eyes to a darker side of America.

 

My junior year as an undergraduate at Ohio State I shared a three story townhouse with three other young men.  I have described Mike in other articles as the life of the party and the leader of our gang.  Mike like me was from Scioto County, Ohio but unlike me Mike had been raised Catholic and was not what I would call 100% hillbilly.  I seem to remember that Mike's maternal family may have been from Pittsburgh.  Alex was, I believe a second generation Russian Jew from around the Dayton area and Chuck was a black guy from Reynoldsburg a mostly white suburb just outside of Columbus.  I was a recent convert to Catholicism but had been raised nominally Methodist.  Truth is I  mostly went to nondenominational churches with my aunt Rosemary whenever I spent the night with my cousin Mark which seems like every weekend of my childhood.

 

Two Catholics, a Jew and a black guy.  We were just a K.K.K weenie roast waiting to happen.  We made great fun of the fact that we were a cliché every time we walked into a bar together. 

 

To make some extra money we would sometimes deliver cars for Mike's dad who ran a leasing agency.  The most regular gig was to drive a brand new Chevy Chevette to rural post offices in the deep south and Mike would drive us all back in a family truckster of a station wagon.  We seldom came home with much extra money as we often stopped in Myrtle Beach or Gatlinburg.  It was great fun and exactly the type of thing that young guys are supposed to do so that they may develop  a keen understanding of just what it means to be free.  Sometimes we would bring our former roommate Greg along.  Greg was from central Florida so having a native along was good for translating.  Greg was also one thing that none of the rest of us were.  He was a Protestant I think but so was Chuck.  No, Greg was relatively rich compared to the rest of us.  So we had that class thing covered too.

 

Having all of your bases covered north of the Mason-Dixon line is something totally different and the Charlie Daniels-esque reality check that we were about to receive clued us in pretty damn fast.

 

I won't mention the name of the deep southern town nor even the state.  And don't think for a second that I would paint all folks with the same broad strokes.  I hold no one in higher regard than I do President Carter and he is as southern as they come.  But this is about a different type of southerner.

 

As was our habit we usually pilled out of the station wagon and into the air conditioned post office while Mike went over the paperwork with the local postmaster.  That navy blue wagon could get mighty hot might fast and besides I think Mike liked to show off his crew of “professional drivers.”  Most times the postal workers were warm and friendly but sometimes there was that creepy vibe.  It was hard to figure out where it was coming from.  You could never be sure if it was a class thing or a north-south thing.  My paternal grandpa was a local postmaster so I have nothing but respect for the position. Heck I  obviously had enough respect for government work to have done nothing but all my adult life.  But there were times when the folks at these facilities were subtly hostile for no apparent reason.  I recall that one of the boys hopped off the dock instead of taking the stairs as a 21 year old guy in a hurry will do.  This drew a “boy you would never work here a-jumpin' off like that.”  We of course demurred and apologized for the reckless behavior when in our mind we were thinking, “piss off Cletus, I don't think a guy with a mechanical engineering degree from Ohio State is in any danger of ending up needing a job on your dock.” But we only thought it and as respectful as these boys were and given that there was little likelihood that we would ever be that way again, there was really no reason to bitch at the boy.

 

But that was mild.

 

Alex, Greg and I were standing in the office of one of these postmasters while Mike conducted his business with the man in charge.  Chuck had a real job and didn't make these trips often.  Thank the Lord.  Mike had just finished up and was gathering his folder when the postmaster took note of Greg's Ohio State t-shirt.  It really would be impossible to parody this guy.  He was straight from central casting.  His scalp shown through his crew cut exposing a slightly moist plate that he mopped periodically with a gray handkerchief.  The air conditioning was working fine but the 60 extra pounds of recycled bacon fat he was barely hiding beneath that khaki cloth and overworked buttons had to be given his capillaries a hard time.  The man was a heart attack on a stick. 

 

“So you boys are all from up there at Ohio State?”  “Yes sir, go Bucks!”  “I understand you all have a problem up there with integration?” “Not that we know of.  Folks are pretty much free to go where they please, and if anyone is kept out of a business or such the authorities take care of it and newspapers jump on them with both feet.”

 

“Yeah, that's what I meant.”

 

My blood ran cold and I felt helpless in a way I have only experience a few times since.  Like when my daughter was born by C-section.  I had no control over the situation and I didn't know quite what to expect.  I saw out of the corner of my eye, Greg's hand come up on Alex's shoulder in a motion meant to herd him to the door.  Not only did Alex bare a slight resemblance to Garry Shandling he sounds like the comedian and shares his off beat wit.  You also never knew when Alex's righteous indignation would show up and this wasn't a High Street bar after an Ohio State game. Wise-crack or tirade either of the two most likely replies from Alex would not have been good for our health and Greg knew it.  I could see in Greg's eyes that he was spooked.

 

At that time while looking at my feet I noticed my St. Christopher's medal dangling there from around my neck like a big “shoot me I'm a Papist” sign.  I honestly think it was Mike who glided us out of there with his business chatter.  All I remember is that somehow we got back in the car and pulled away.  Greg let out his nervous fake laugh.  He knew these folks and he knew we were probably never in any real danger but you couldn't be sure and that is the way THEY wanted us to feel.  As we were headed out of the little town the blood came back to our heads and we started to gain our bravado and humor.  He laughed with the typical, “yikes, what a piece of work that cracker was.”  But we didn't really start to breathe easy until we crossed the state line later that night and we drove straight through back to Columbus, only stopping for gas.

 

I know it doesn't sound that bad but you had to be there to feel the malice come off this man.  He wanted us to know how he felt about us and our ideas and he knew that we knew that there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it because we were in his world.  Only later did my more adult empathy cause me to imagine what my life might be like if I had been born black and poor in that man's world.  I had $20 in my pocket, no family in that God forsaken little village and a big ass Chevy to get me the hell out of there. I was free.

 

So when I hear the word “cracker” I have a reference point.

 

 

 

Cuz I'm a Hillbilly, yes I am

I had a chance to watch Hillbilly: The Real Story the other day after missing the first two airings. 

 

As a propagandist for the “hill folk” I can't complain too much since its intent was to be sympathetic but if I had a couple of million dollars lying around with which to make a documentary about the Appalachian people I would have done things a bit differently.  For the most part it was factual and the more important the topic the more accurate they seemed to be.

 

I do think that they made some poor choices on editing. They begin the two hour program with a segment on moonshine after only the slightest mention about how Appalachians are misrepresented.  To be honest moonshine is a far better item of introduction than coal but I still think I would have gone to the Scottish border wars first off.  My guess is that the producers wanted to set the stage by displaying the hillbilly as both self reliant and resistant to what they see as unfair governance. Moonshine and the Whiskey Rebellion are perfect as a hub to illustrate this point.  They must be given credit for stating that the hillbillies did not “invent” moonshine in the hills of Appalachia but brought it with them from Northern Ireland.  Indeed today whiskey is so common a spirit that we tend to see it as a universal but whiskey or uisce beatha which means water of life in Gaelic is an Irish/ Scottish spirit and was even more so then.  The importance of pointing out that the new settlers to Appalachia brought their whiskey with them is that it illustrates an older heritage and a heritage that was already separate from the rest of the rum drinking colonies.

 

The following segment on marijuana is unfortunate but true and does follow somewhat the pattern of the moonshiners.  I am more inclined to accept this comparison than any between moonshiners and crystal meth production.  Given that marijuana is not a dangerous drug in and of itself other than causing the habitual user to waste his life it is not surprising that hillbillies would be more inclined to turn a blind eye to its production as stated by this portion of the program.  The problem as the police officers illustrate is that these dope growers resort to violent tactics to protect their crop which is often grown in remote patches on public lands such as national forests.

 

One difference between the classic battle between the revenuers and the moonshiners is that the anti-drug officers are often local people.  As stated by one of the officers interviewed, these hollers and hills are home to these police officers and where their children are being raised.  They have a vested interest in eradicating this blight.  One truth that was not mentioned that I know from my personal experience is that the drug producers are often outsiders.  These outside criminals move into the area and corrupt locals to make use of their knowledge of the community and geography.  As Billy Ray says an average household income of less than $8,000 a year makes such activity much more tempting than it would be otherwise.

 

In the next section of the program the producers examine the origin of the Appalachian people.  I was pleased to see that they take the high road and go with the truth instead of the politically correct, multi-cultural garbage that is popular in our universities.  The hillbilly culture has its origin in the borderlands of Scotland and England starting in the 13^th century.  The constant battles and strife of the area caused a clan society to develop.  As Senator Jim Webb explains this type of uncertainty leads individuals to form bonds with those closest to them and on their level. 

 

Starting in 1610 the Scottish King James the VII who became James I of Great Britain thought that he could kill two birds with one stone and send many of these rough lowland Scots to Northern Ireland.  This would relieve the population pressures on largely infertile  southern Scotland and send a force to “pacify” the native Irish.  Many of facts surrounding the plantation of Northern Ireland are glossed over in this segment but what facts are there are accurate.  The program does not mention the religious persecution of the Presbyterians by the Anglican Church of Ireland. 

 

The show accurately describes how a quarter of a million people from Northern Ireland settled in the back country of America in a short period of time.  The bulk of these settled  between 1750 and 1775.  There is no mention of James Logan, the Scots-Irish, Quaker and secretary for the Penn family.  Logan is largely responsible for the settlement of the Scots-Irish into western Pennsylvania.  He stated explicitly in a letter that he hoped the Ulster Scots could act as a “human frontier” between the passive Quakers in the east and the native “savages” in the west. This program is sympathetic to the Scots-Irish settlers concerning the Indian Wars but it makes no mention that they were performing a bloody task that they were specifically recruited for.

 

Although they do not use the exact words the program makes clear that before long the Scots-Irish become the new “savages” gaining much knowledge of surviving in the back country from their enemies the Native Americans.  Eventually this knowledge of guerrilla warfare would help them turn the war in favor of the American rebels.  Perhaps too much time is spent on the single Battle of King's Mountain, but it is by far the most famous battle won by the new Appalachians. Interestingly the British force that the Over-mountain Men defeated at King's Mountain were largely Scottish Highlanders.  Also a fact not mentioned.

 

There is no mention however of Sargent York Syndrome which would have fit perfectly into this segment.  This syndrome which was coined by a Veterans' Hospital physician in Tennessee, describes the phenomena of Appalachia having the highest casualty rate in all of its wars up until the current Gulf War. Nor would I expect them to delve into the horrible way in which the government exploits the likes of both Jessica Lynch and Lynndie English.

 

What many viewers probably will not catch but is so very important at the end of this section before the commercial break is the mention that for the next 100 years the Appalachian culture develops separately from the rest of the nation.  This is crucial to understanding modern Appalachian and her hillbillies.  We did not degenerate from the same basic British culture as the rest of the country; we were different from the beginning.  We came from a different branch on the British tree and naturally developed a culture that was familiar yet separate from those other largely English communities.  And this 100 years of development took place before COAL.  Hillbillies were hillbillies before coal.

 

The next segment starts with an account of the local color writers.  Certainly the local color writers of the mid-19^th century are a bunch who have to be rotting in Hell.  More than any single group including the robber barons, the local color writers so degraded the people of Appalachia that the unscrupulous industrialist were able to mistreat the citizens of the hills without fear that the nation at large would be sympathetic to the plight of the hill folk.  These same industrialist often owned the publications in which these lurid tales appeared.  Go figure. Poor and uneducated Appalachian farmers were swindled out of land or gave up timber and mineral rights for pennies on the dollar only to be left with poisoned wells and ruined moonscapes that took generations to heal.  The Industrial Revolution has come and gone and with it the economic benefits, but the negative stereotypes still survive.

 

From the local color articles to the railroad, coal mines and independent Christian churches the program by way of the most notable examples such as the Clinch Valley Line, Matewan and the Battle of Blair Mountain and snake handling highlights some of Appalachia's famous and peculiar elements.  One may be quick to point out that these are single examples of very common items in Appalachia but I assume that the Moore-Huntley production team's focus is taking on these “well known” Appalachian elements and demystifying them.

 

Many areas of Appalachia were always open to the rest of the nation.  Travelers going from east to west would have a very long detour if they did not cross Appalachia by many of her gaps and passes, stopping at the many Appalachian villages and towns that serviced these roads and early rails.  But railroads like the Clinch did open up Appalachia to the industrial age and no doubt advanced the building of rail lines into most every county in the region.  The railroad made coal possible and coal made the railroad possible.  The industrial revolution also brought new people to Appalachia from Italy and eastern Europe.

 

I have often wondered if the Battle of Blair Mountain could have happened in any other region of the nation at that time.  Certainly the wild west witnessed similar violence only a generation prior but in the 20^thcentury, I doubt that the public would have tolerated company guards dropping bombs on or machine gunning citizens in New England.  I reckon the same factors tahat allowed the Battle of Blair Mountain to take place allows MIC to be produced at Institute, WV next to the campus of WVSU.

 

There were many conflicts between the labor unions and the mine owners in Appalachia and the legal battles go even today but Matewan and the Battle of Blair Mountain are certainly the best known and perhaps the most egregious examples of industrial arrogance besides the lesser known Hawk's Nest disaster.

 

Most controversial is the segment on snake handlers.  Here the producers do a masterful job of making the members of this religious sect look rational while being clear that most Appalachians do not practice or even condone this ritual.  As a hillbilly it distresses me that West Virginia is the only state where snake handling is legal.  And this is the point.  Appalachia is full of little cinder clock churches.  Billy Ray tells us that there are 80 different Baptist denominations alone.  As one interviewee explains, if a group of folks doesn't like what is being preached at their current church they will just up and build another little church down the road. 

 

Religious freedom was one of the reasons for the Scots-Irish ending up in these hills.  The program does mention the tent revivals of the 18^th century but does not call them as such and does not go into detail about the New Light and Appalachians transformation from Presbyterianism to Baptist and Methodist sects.

 

All of these little white washed churches stand in stark contrast to the suburban mega-churches in the rest of the country.  I have sincere doubts as to whether any of those little churches fund political action committees.  I would rather risk my life by handling a copperhead than risk my soul by shaking hands with the pastor of a mega-church.

 

From the pious little churches the program turns to the moonshine runners who became the proto-stock car drivers.  The motor sport born in Appalachian Georgia that would become NASCAR may have mutated into something that the foreigners watch but I sleep better at night knowing that there are still dirt tracks out there like Lavonia Speedway in Georgia and my hometown track Portsmouth Raceway.

 

I reckon the next segment on the TVA illustrates the bittersweet realities of progress in our region.  I am a proud Luddite, but I am not about to get all Amish on anyone.  I like electric stuff and I like good paying jobs that make that stuff. When the reservoir was filled and those Appalachian communities were flooded they were lost true enough, but anytime we allow the outside world to come in so that we can have jobs we risk losing a bit of our community.  That said I can remember when the steel mills, shoe factories and the nuclear enrichment plant were all still in production in Portsmouth, Ohio.  There were  40,000 more hillbillies and their friends living in that little river city then and the Waltons  could not have been more Appalachian than my family in 1969.

 

As dangerous as it may be to welcome job producing industry into our Appalachian communities it is far more dangerous to allow our children to leave in order to find work outside of the region.  Without alternatives we have to rely on destructive extraction industry or we end up with a population of old folks and trash and the few folks in the service industry that any community needs such as hospital workers, teachers and other government types.  The producers don't say it out right but even a place as beautiful as Appalachia with workers as brave as coal miners need an infusion of industry to survive.

 

Appropriately Billy Ray states that perhaps the greatest gift that the hillbillies have given to the nation (and the world) is our music.  We have transformed the Celtic folk music we brought with us 300 years ago into a global art form. I may bristle at the pop-with-a-cowboy-hat that dominates America's airwaves but I have to admit no small bit of satisfaction that it may be watered down but it is mine. I can't expect everyone to be into John Prine or Dwight Yoakam.

 

I think the producers were also brilliant in drafting Billy Ray Cyrus as the narrator.  Of course I cheer for Billy Ray as a fellow tristate boy, but Billy Ray is a living example of the hillbilly spirit.  From the moment he gained national attention he was a target of ridicule for his mullet.  But Billy Ray didn't let that stop him.  He had a nice little show, kind of an anti-House, called “Doc” where he plays a kindly country doctor in the big city.  He started a charity for the needy children of the Ashland-Ironton area.  And now his daughter, Miley is the biggest star Disney has with her show, Hannah Montana in which Billy Ray plays her dad.   Let's just keep her away from some of the other former Disney stars.

 

So Hillbilly: The Real Story gets a Rednecromancer thumbs up.  It could have been more in depth but it would have had to have been longer which would have probably precluded it from showing up on the light weight History Channel. The facts for the most part were accurate ( the battle of Blair Mountain was NOT the origin of redneck ) and some of the most important issues were addressed.  It was biased in favor of hillbillies but that is just fine since we have years of anti-hillbilly bias to make up for.

 

The important statements made by the program are that hillbillies have a pre-American origin and that we have developed separately and not degenerated.  And while we are a separate American culture we have contributed greatly to the overall American experience. 

 

Or at least the most important items.

 

Freedom, loyalty, country music, etc, etc

 

Hillbilly: The Real Story

Our friend Cat from over at Mouth of the Holler sent me a note a few weeks ago to tell me that Moore Huntley Productions were going to have a special on the History Channel titled Hillbilly: The Real Story.  Naturally this could cause some trepidation on the part of an Appalachian advocate but the accompanying description let me know that this was at least a Boswellian social history of our people and may indeed end up being a pro-hillbilly piece of propaganda.  I reckon some folks like David Moore-Huntley realize that resistance is futile and that they are hopping on the Hillbilly World Domination bandwagon early.

The two-hour special, hosted by celebrity Billy Ray Cyrus, brings these mythic people to life through stories that span 300 years. Outcast immigrants, war heroes, isolated backwoodsmen, hard working miners, fast moving moon shiners, religious warriors, musicians and statesmen make up the rugged cast of characters.   from the History Channel site

Rating: TVPG

In the email apparently sent out by David Moore-Huntley, he mentions the battlefields of the English-Scottish border and Northern Ireland.  This makes me think that this production company has a better understanding of the social and political situations in Britain that led to the creation of this unique ethnic group and their home region compared to most film makers who focus solely on events in America.  Hillbillies were created in Northern Ireland and then moved to Appalachia where they “recruited” peoples from other cultures and backgrounds.

I am also happy to see that someone so representative of contemporary Appalachians is hosting the program. Billy Ray Cyrus, like Appalachians in general, has had his share of ridicule for no good reason but just seems to keep on going.

I am optimistic that this two hour special will help to reverse so much of the damage that the media has done to our image.  Please send us your thoughts and reviews on the program.

Schedule

Sunday, September 23 08:00 PM

Monday, September 24 12:00 AM

Thursday, September 27 08:00 AM

Thursday, September 27 02:00 PM

Addressing a need (or I need an address)

Hey folks,

I am tickled to death to send you all stickers and buttons but I have to have an address to get them to you. It is true that The Rednecromancer (the hillbilly super-hero who watches over us) does have super powers but ESP ain't one of them.

I don't keep addresses on file so if you have sent your address in the past there is a good chance that it has been deleted and that you will need to send it again.