Root Jumper (7 page)

There were also the Miller and Oswald families. These people had large fruit orchards. They also were farmers. They sold fruit from their orchards, but much of their fruit was given to the community. People came to Union Ridge to get fruit to can and to make apple butter. The peaches were so lovely. People have told me how delicious their fruit was.

My dad and mother, Walter and Julia Felix, lived here for a short period of time during this period. I have heard my family speak of John and Flora Miller and of how good the Millers were to them. The German fences always seemed a little straighter and the barns a little sturdier. As a child, I walked all over this area barefoot.

Leading from Union Ridge to the left was Hoop Pole Ridge. It is now known as Fairview Ridge. This ridge was where workers cut hoop poles for making barrel hoops. These were tall straight hickory timbers which the hill people would cut and put in bundles of approximately fifty to take to the river for shipping. The roads became very muddy during this time, and in the winter they had great ruts in them making it rough to travel on them. Oxen were often used in winter time to haul out their loads of hoop poles, animal skins, and fifty gallon barrels of sorghum molasses heading to Greenbottom to be shipped by boat to Cincinnati.

In addition to the cutting of hoop poles, men also cut barrel staves to take to a stave mill at Greenbottom. There was also a grist mill on or close to Fairview Ridge. This was where people took corn to be ground for bread. Many times you had to wait all day to get your corn ground. Cornbread was the main bread we used. We seldom had wheat bread, which is what we called white bread.

This was a bustling community. When you travel Fairview Ridge today, it is very quiet with only a few homes. Back in the day the Fairview community had a church and a school which were very active. The school was called Fairview and the church was called Vincent Chapel.

These people did a tremendous amount of work, but they had a good time. There were house raisings and barn raisings. There were community get-togethers. There were weddings in which everyone participated. After the wedding, there occurred what they called “bellings.” People gathered together with something to make noise. The couple appeared together, and the crowd began yelling, ringing cow bells, whistling, blowing or beating on an object such as a can. Occasionally someone would fire a gun in to the air. After the belling, the groom was expected to treat the crowd. If he didn’t treat, he was threatened to be ridden on a pole. I never knew of anybody not treating. Usually the treat was candy passed out to everyone present.

Most people living on Fairview Ridge lived in log homes. Their barns were built from logs as were their outbuildings. The only house I remember on Fairview Ridge was the Sherman Short house. I can remember the family slightly. Someone bought the old log house, tore it down, and moved it somewhere else.

My Aunt Lenora Spurlock Cooper lived on Fairview Ridge with her family. She was my grandfather’s sister. I don’t remember any of the family except Cousin Lillie Jackson. This family later went to California in a covered wagon. Cousin Lillie came back to visit a couple of times that I remember.

Cousin Lillie’s father left her mother and the children. He didn’t tell them where he was going—he just left. Soon a letter came saying he didn’t know why, but he couldn’t live in those hills any longer. Also, soon a man came saying he had come for the cow. Her father had sold the cow for seventeen dollars. That was a terrible blow since the cow was their main support. Her mother was so upset she cried. Had it not been for the goodness of her mother’s brother, they would have starved. That was my grandfather William Spurlock. Everyone called him Uncle Billy. He urged them to move down on Spurlock Creek and he would build them a log house. This they did. Uncle Billy built them two nice big log houses with a roof connecting them. One room was a living room with a ladder to climb up on. The boys slept up there. They had it almost carpeted with hides and sheep skins tanned with the wool on. The hides were those of wildcats and foxes. Cousin Lillie’s mother worked for other people for whatever people gave her. Sometimes this was meal, flour, or a little piece of meat when she helped them render lard. They worked very hard, but she said they had lots of fun with all the cousins. They still had their cane mill, and they made a lot of sorghum molasses. The boys were hired by Uncle Billy.

Then came the rumors from out West. The boys thought they could make lots of money if they could just get out West. Uncle Billy came and talked to them after he couldn’t keep them from going. He would buy their cattle. Plans were started. They had one horse, but he was what you call wind broken. When pulling a load, he would puff and blow. But her brother decided the horse would do. They got another horse and an old wagon. They traded a yoke of steers for some things and sold a fifty-gallon barrel of molasses for ten cents a gallon. They finally got it together.

They left for the West with fifty dollars and no cover for the wagon. They took a fifty gallon barrel of sorghum molasses with them also. They had a cook stove, a few cooking utensils, some food supplies, quilts and furs to sleep on since all of them would not be able to sleep in the wagon. The boys would have to sleep on the ground.

On a beautiful spring afternoon in 1897 at about three o’clock in the afternoon, they left their old log house on Spurlock Creek and headed west. There were four children under twenty years of age and one small child plus Aunt Lenora and Cousin Lillie. What a brave woman Aunt Lenora must have been. They crossed over the hills to Greenbottom that first day. They crossed the Ohio River the next morning. They headed straight for Dayton, Ohio. Upon reaching Dayton, they sold their fifty gallons of sorghum Molasses and had the bows and cover made for their wagon. So now they had a cover. I never saw Cousin Lillie after the 1960s. She made a couple of trips back to West Virginia. I remember her son, Roy Jackson. He graduated from Annapolis with the class of 1929. In 1943 he was a commander living in Washington, D.C.

Building a Log House

In building a log house, a person had to first clear the land of trees and brush. Then he had to cut the logs. This was no easy task because the logs sometimes had to be dragged a long distance. There on the site, these logs had to be notched and fitted. Then the person had what was called a house-raising. All the neighbors came from far and near with well-filled baskets of good things to eat. This was a fun time, and many hands made light work. The big pine logs were started from the bottom. Some of the men were on the ground working, and some were on the building fitting and notching. The main part of the house could be finished in a day and sometimes the rafters too.

Another interesting thing in building a log home was the chinking between the logs. Sometimes there were good-size cracks between them, and of course these cracks had to be filled. The method at this time was called “chinkin and daubin.” This chinking was made from oak timber sawed in lengths from one to three feet long. This was then split into a sort of wedge shape. It was small enough on one side to slip into the crack but too large on the other side to slip through. Then came the daubing. This was made of a very choice yellow clay. Someone would find where this clay was located. There was a hole dug about the size of a wash tub. Then water was poured in and the loose clay was mixed into a thick paste. This was carried in the basket to the house and used like cement is used today. A wedge of the wood was put in between the logs, and then a paddle of this daubing was slapped in. Then it was smoothed down as best as it could be on the rough surface. When this daubing dried, it was very hard and made a warm house.

Clapboards

Houses were often roofed using clapboards. Clapboards were made from a choice white oak tree. It was cut down and sawed into lengths of approximately twenty-eight inches and sometimes three feet. The wood was then split into boards with what was known as a “rive.” One side of this board had to be about three quarters of an inch thick. The other edge was about one quarter inch. So you see, it takes quite a timber expert to get these boards or shingles just right. They also had to be “ricked up” and seasoned before using.

I remember watching Dad and Pearl Knapp rive clapboards on our farm. They cut down this large white oak tree. It was hauled in with the horse, and Pearl rived the shingles. They had to “rick” them up, and they had to dry or season the shingles for a long time. Then they roofed the house with them. The shingles were still good when they tore down the old house many years later.

Special People

Muttie

Muttie was such a remarkable lady. I think about her often. I want you to meet this lady. Her name was Bertha White. Her maiden name was Oswald. She was married to Ed White, and everyone called her Muttie.

Muttie lived about three miles from my childhood home on Spurlock Creek. I never knew her very well as a child because she never got out much. Like most Appalachian women, she traveled only as needed for business. It was when I was a teenager that I became more familiar with her.

Muttie was of German decent. She was a rather large lady—no fat, just muscle and bone. She wore her hair back in a bun as did most of the ladies at this time. She wore what we called a sunbonnet. Sometimes strands of hair would work from under her bonnet but she would stop and push it back under her bonnet.

Muttie was always so friendly and kind. She had this wonderful laugh, and her eyes just twinkled. I never saw her out of sorts. She had this deep German accent. My husband Doyle would say to her, “Is the world treating you well, Muttie?” She always answered “Ya” with her great laugh.

I asked Mac White, her grandson, what was the one thing he remembered best about his grandmother. He said that she always wore an apron. When she got up, she put on a clean apron and wore it until she went to bed.

The apron was used for many things. Women carried eggs from the hen house, papaws, apples, baby chicks, and vegetables from the garden. They might wipe a drippy brow as they labored over the hot stove. The apron worked very well for a hot pad to open the oven. When the kids were hurt or crying, a woman would wipe away the tears and maybe a little snot. The apron dusted tables and was often used to shoo away flies. I have my mother’s apron hanging in the kitchen. When I feel like it, I can go there and shed a tear.

Muttie could do anything. No matter what the problem was, she could fix it with an “Oh, pshaw!” She was a wonderful cook. Her family had a lot of company, and we had a lot of hungry people. She fed everyone who came to her door. When you left her house, she always gave you something. Maybe this was a mess of green beans or a jar of buttermilk. This habit of giving was a habit of Appalachian women.

Muttie sold a lot of her wares at Huntington, West Virginia. One item she sold was her smear case cheese. People couldn’t get enough of this. She churned butter and sold it. She dressed chickens and had vegetables and apples to sell in season. They had an orchard and made apple butter, much of which she sold.

Muttie had a wonderful garden, and every inch had something in it. She cleared of every weed with her hoe. I was at Muttie’s house one day when she was making chow-chow. It was a huge vat of vegetables. She always had time to talk, but she never stopped working. A lot of her garden produce was sold in Huntington.

There was a metal wire stretched in her yard on which she hung her dressed fowls at Christmas time. This wire was full of dressed turkeys—sometimes as many as forty. These were taken and delivered in Huntington. Hogs and cattle were butchered at the White household. Muttie made wonderful sausage. She rendered lard by hand, and everything that could be saved was made into something good to eat. She pickled some of the pork, including ears and feet. She trimmed and salted down the hams. She raised rabbits for sale. She dressed the rabbits and even pickled some of them.

Another enterprise of Muttie was raising quail for the Sportsmen’s League of Huntington, West Virginia. There was a small flat across the creek from the house where Muttie kept her quail. They were housed in what we called “coops.” At times she might have five hundred quail at different stages of growth.

Muttie had to hatch quail eggs. She used any type chicken that might be setting, including bantam chickens. She could get a lot of eggs under a chicken hen. Another disadvantage that Muttie encountered was copperhead snakes. They loved quail eggs as well as quail. She would have to get up at night to check on her quail. A gun was always handy for the snakes as well as for the other animals that loved quail.

Many years after Muttie quit raising quail, the place where she had raised the quails was known as “copperhead flat,” due to the many copperheads that had taken up residency.

Around Christmas time, they had what we called a shooting match. For a sum of money, you had a chance to shoot at a target. The closest one to the target might win a turkey, ham, or whatever. All the men loved this shooting match. Muttie’s son Max, who was very young at that time and who lived across the road from me later in life, loved the shooting match. He always tried to replenish his mother’s stock of three or four turkeys that she had sold for Christmas. He only had pennies to enter the match, and others called him “penny boy.”