Sicily Burns Wedding

From Sut Lovingood: Yarns Spun by a "Nat'ral Born Durn'd Fool" (1867)
by George Washington Harris
edited by: Angel Price 11/96

Sicily Burns Wedding

"Hey Ge-orge!" rang among the mountain slopes; and looking up to my left, I saw "Sut," tearing along down a steep point, heading me off, in a long kangaroo lope, holding his flask high above his head, and hat in hand. He brought up near me, banteringly shaking the half-full "tickler," within an inch of my face.

"Whar am yu gwine? take a suck, hoss? This yere truck's ole. I kotch hit myse'f, hot this mornin frum the still wum. Nara durn'd bit ove strike-nine in hit I put that ar piece ove burnt dried peach in myse'f tu gin hit color better nur ole Bullen's plan: he puts in tan ooze, in what he sells, an' when that haint handy, he uses the red warter outen a pon' jis' below his barn; makes a pow'ful natral color, but don't help the taste much. Then he correcks that wif red pepper; hits an orful mixtry, that whisky ole Bullen makes; no wonder he seed 'Hell-sarpints.' He's pisnt ni ontu three quarters ove the b'levin parts ove his congregashun wif hit, an' tuther quarter he's sot intu ruff stealin an' cussin. Ef his still- ous don't burn down, ur he peg out hisse'f, the neighborhood am ruinated a-pas' salvashun. Haint he the durndes sampil ove a passun yu ever seed enyhow?

"Say George, du yu see these yere well-poles what I uses fur laigs? Yu sez yu sees em, dus yu?"

"Yes."

"Very well; I passed 'em a-pas' each usher tuther day, right peart. I put one out a-head jis' so, an' then tuther 'bout nine feet a-head ove hit agin jis' so, an' then kep on a-duin hit. I'll jis' gin yu leave tu go tu the devil hatf hamon, ef I didn't make fewer tracks tu the mile, an' more tu the minis, than wer ever made by eny human man body, since Bark Wilson beat the saw-log frum the top ove the Frog Mountin intu the Oconee River, an' dove, an' dodged hit at las'. I hes allers look'd ontu that performince ove Bark's as onekel'd in histery, allers givin way tu dad's ho'net race, however.

"George, every livin thing hes hits pint, a pint ove sum sort. Ole Bullen's pint is a durn'ed fust rate, three bladed, dubbil barriltd, warter-proof, hypockracy, an' a never-tirein appertite fur bal'-face. Sicily Burns's pint am tu drive men folks plum crazy, an' then bring em too gin. Gin em a rale Orleans fever in five minits, an' then in five minits more, gin them a Floridy ager. Durn her, she's down on her heels flat-footed now. Dad's pint is tu be king ove all durn'd fools, ever since the day ove that feller what cribb'd up so much cotn down in Yegipt, long time ago, (he ran outen his coat yu minds). The Bibil tell us hu wer the stronges' man hu wer the bes' man hu wer the meekis' man, an' hu the wises' man, but leaves yu tu guess hu wer the bigges' fool.

"Well, eny man what cudent guess arter readin that ar scrimmage wif an 'omen 'bout the coat, haint sense enuf tu run intu the hous', ef hit wer rainin deaf cats, that's all. Mam's pint am in kitchen insex, bakin hoe-cake, biling greens, an' runnin bar laiged. My pint am in taking aboard big skeers, an' then beatin enybody's hoss, ur skared dory, a-runnin frum onder em agin. I used tu think my pint an' dad's wer jis' the same, sulky, unmix'd king durn'd fool; but when he acted hoss, an' mistook hossflies fur ho'nets, I los' heart. Never mine' when I gits his 'sperence, I may be king fool, but yet great golly, he gets frum bad tu wus, monstrus fas'.

"Now ef a feller happens tu know what his pint am, he kin allers git along, sumhow, purvided he don't swar away his liberty tu a temprins s'ciety, live tu fur frum a still-hous, and too ni a chu'ch ur a jail. Them's my sentimints on 'pints,' an' yere's my sentimints ontu folks: Men wer made a-purpus jis' tu eat, drink, an' fur stayin awake in the yearly part ove the nites: an' wimen wer made tu cook the vittils, mix the sperits, an' help the men du the stayin awake. That's all, an' nuthin more, onless hits fur the women tu raise the devil atwix meals, an' knit socks atwix drams, an' the men tu play short kerds, swap hosses wif fools, an' fite fur exercise at odd spells.

"George, yu don't onderstan life yet scarcely at all, got a heap tu larn, a heap. But 'bout my swappin my laigs so fas' these yere very par ove laigs. I hed got about a fox squirril skin full ove biled co'n juice packed onder my shut, an' onder my hide too, I mout es well add, an' wer aimin fur Bill Carr's on foot. When I got in sight ove ole man Burns's, I seed ni ontu fifty hosses an' muels hitch'd tu the fence. Durnashun! I jis' then tho't ove hit, 'twer Sicily's wedding day. She married ole Clapshaw, the suckit rider. The very feller hu's faith gin out when he met me sendin sody all over creashun. Suckit-riders am surjestif things tu me. They preaches agin me, an' I hes no chance tu preach back at them. Ef I cud I'd make the institushun behave hitsef better nur hit dus. They hes sum wunderful pints, George.

Thar am two things nobody never seed: wun am a dead muel, an' tuther is a suckit-rider's grave. Kaze why, the he muels all turn intu old field school-masters, an' the she ones intu strong minded wimen, an' then when thar times cums, they dies sorter like usher folks. An' the suckit-riders ride ontil they marry; ef they marrys money, they turns intu store-keepers, swaps hosses, an' stays away ove colleckshun Sundays. Them what marrys, an' by sum orful mistake mlsses the money, jis' turns intu polertishuns, sells 'ile well stock,' and dies sorter in the human way too.

"But 'bout the wedding. Ole Burns hed a big black an' white bull, wif a ring in his snout, an' the rope tied up roun his ho'ns. They rid 'im tu mill, an' sich like wif a saddil made outen two dorgwood forks, an' two clapboards, kivered wif a ole piece ove carpet, rope girth, an' rope stirrups wif a loop in hit fur the foot.

Ole 'Sock,' es they call'd the bull, hed jis' got back frum mill, an' wer turn'd intu the yard, saddil an' all, tu solace hissef a-pickin grass. I wer slungin roun the outside ove the hous', fur they hedn't hed the manners tu ax me in, when they sot down tu dinner. I wer pow'fully hurt 'bout hit, an' happen'd tu think SODY. So I sot in a-watchin fur a chance tu du sumthin. I fus' tho't I'd shave ole Clapshaw's hoss's tail, go tu the stabil an' shave Sicily's mare's tail, an' ketch ole Burns out, an' shave his tail too. While I wer a-studyin 'bout this, ole Sock wer a-rosin 'roun, an' cum up ontu a big baskit what hilt a littil shattered cotn; he dipp'd in his head tu git hit, an' I slipp'd up an' jerked the handil over his ho'ns.

"Now, George, ef yu knows the eater ove a cow brute, they is the durndes' fools amung all the beastes, ('scept the Lovingoods); when they gits intu tribulashun, they knows nuffin but tu shot thar eyes, belier, an' back, an' keep a-backin. Well, when ole Sock raised his head an' foun hissef in darkness, he jis' twisted up his tail, snorted the shatter'd co'n outen the baskit, an' made a tremenjus lunge agin the hous'. I hearn the picters a-hangin agin the wall on the inside a-fal in. He fotch a deep loud rusty belier, mout been hearn a mile, an' then sot intu a onendin sistem ove backin. A big craw-fish wif a hungry coon a-reachin fur him, wer jis' nowhar. Fust agin one thing, then over anuther, an' at las' agin the bee-bainch, knockin hit an' a dozen stan ove bees heads over heels, an' then stompin back'ards thru the mess. Hit haint much: wuf while tu tell what the bees did, ur how soon they sot intu duin hit. They am pow'ful quick-tempered littil critters, enyhow. The air wer dark wif 'em, an' Sock wer kivered all over, frum snout tu tail, so clost yu cudent a-sot down a grain ove wheat fur bees, an' they wer a-fitin one anuther in the air, fur a place on the bull. The hous' stood on sidelin groun, an' the back door wer even wif hit. So Sock happen tu hit hit plum, jis' backed intu the hous' onder 'bout two hundred an' fifty pouns ove steam, bawlin orful, an' every snort he fotch he snorted away a quart ove bees ofen his sweaty snout. He wer the leader ove the bigges' an' the madest army ove bees in the worild. Thar wer at leas' five solid bushels ove 'em. They hed filled the baskit, an' hed lodged ontu his tail, ten deep, ontil hit wer es thick es a waggin tung. He hed hit stuck strait up in the air, an' hit looked adzackly like a dead pine kivered wif ivey. I think he wer the hottes' and wus hurtin bull then livin; his temper, too, seemed tu be pow'fully flustrated.

Ove all the durn'd times an' kerryins on yu ever hearn tell on wer thar an' thar abouts. He cum tail fust agin the old two story Dutch clock, an' fotch hit, bustin hits runnin geer outen hit, the littil wheels a-trundlin over the floor, an' the bees even chasin them. Nex pass, he fotch up agin the foot ove a big dubbil injine bedstead, rarin hit on send, an' punchin one ove the posts thru a glass winder. The nex tail fus' experdishun wer made aginst the caticorner'd cupboard, outen which he maade a perfeck momox. Fus' he upsot hit, smashin in the glass doors, an' then jis' sot in an' stomp'd everything on the shelves intu giblits, a-tryin tu back furder in that direckshun, an' tu git the bees ofen his laics.

"Pickil crocks, perserves jars, vinegar jugs, seed bags, yarb bunches, paragorick bottils, aig baskits, an ' delf war all mix 'd dam permiskusly, an' not worth the sortie, by a duller an' a 'elf. Nex he got a far back across the room agin the board pertishun; he went thru hit like hit hed been paper, takin wif him 'bout six foot squar ove hit in splinters, an' broken boards, intu the nex room, whar they wer eatin dinner, an' rite yere the fitin becum gineral, an' the dancin, squawkin, cussin, an' dodgin begun.

"Clapshaw's ole mam wer es deaf es a dogiron, an sot at the send ove the tabil, nex tu whar ole Sock busted thru the wall; tail fus' he cum agin her cheer, a-histin her an' hit ontu the tabil. Now, the smashin ove delf, an' the mixin ove vittils begun.

They hed sot severil tabils tugether tu make hit long enuf. So he jis' rolled 'em up a-top ove one anuther, an' thar sot ole Missis Clapshaw, a-straddil ove the top ove the pile, a-fitin bees like a mad wind-mill, wif her calliker cap in one hen, fur a wepun, an' a cract frame in tuther, an' a-kickin, an' a-spurrin like she wer ridin a lazy hoss arter the doctor, an' a-screamin rape, fire, an' murder, es fas' es she cud name 'em over.

"Taters, cabbige, meat, soup, beans, sop, dumpling, an' the truck what yu wailers 'em in; milk, plates, pies, pudding, an' every durn fixin yu cud think ove in a week, wer thar, mix'd an' mashed, like hit had been thru a thrashin-meesheen.
Ole Sock still kep a-backin, an' backed the hole pile, ole 'omen an' all, also sum cheers, outen the frunt door, an' down seven steps intu the lane, an' then by golly, turn'd a fifteen hundred poun summerset hissef arter em, lit a-top ove the mix'd up mess, flat ove his back, an' then kicked hissef ontu his feet agin. About the time he ris, ole man Burns yu know how fat, an' stumpy, an' cross-grained he is, enyhow made a vigrus mad snatch at the baskit, an' got a savin holt ontu hit, but cudent let go quick enuf; fur ole Sock jis' snorted, bawled, an' hissed the ole cuss heels fust up intu the air, an' he lit on the bull's back, an' hed the baskit in his hen.

"Jis' es soon es old Blackey got the use ove his eyes, he tore off down the lane tu out-run the bees, so durn'd fas' that ole Burns wer feard tu try tu git off. So he jis' socked his feet intu the rope loops, an' then cummenc'd the durndes' bull-ride ever mortal man ondertuck. Sock run atwix the hitched critters an' the railfence, ole Burns fust fifing him over the head wif the baskit tu stop him, an' then fitin the bees wif hit. I'll jis' be durn'd ef I didn't think he hed four ur five baskits, hit wer in so meny places at onst. Well, Burns, baskit, an' bull, en' bees, skared every durn'd hoss an' muel loose frum that fence bees ontu all ove 'em, bees, by golly, everywhar. Mos' on 'em, too, tuck a fence rail along, fas' tu the bridil reins. Now I'll jis' gin yu leave tu kiss my sister Sall till she squalls, ef ever sich a sight wer seed ur sich nises hearn, es filled up that long lane. A heavy cloud ove dus', like a harycane hed been blowin, hid all the hosses, an' away abuv hit yu cud see tails, an' sends ove fence-rails a-flyin about; now an' then a par ove bright hine shoes wud flash in the sun like two sparks, an' away ahead wer the basket a-sirklin roun an' about at randum. Brayin, nickerin, the bellerin ove the bull, clatterin ove runnin hoofs, an' a mons'ous rushin soun, made up the noise. Lively times in that lane jis' then, warnt thar?

"I swar ole Burns kin beat eny man on top ove the yeath a-fitin bees wif a baskit. Jis' set 'im a-straddil ove a mad bull, an' let thar be bees enuf tu exhite the ole man, an' the man what beats him kin break me. Hosses an' muels wer tuck up all over the county, an' sum wer forever los'. Yu cudent go eny course, in a cirkil ove a mile, an' not find buckils, stirrups, straps, saddil blankits, ur sumthin belongin tu a saddil hoss. Now don't forgit that about that hous' thar wer a good time bein had ginerally. Fellers an' gals loped outen windows, they rolled outen the doors in bunches, they clomb the chimleys, they darted onder the house jis' tu dart out agin, they tuck tu the thicket, they rolled in the wheat field, lay down in the krick, did everything but stan still. Sum made a strait run fur home, an' sum es strait a run frum home; livelyest folks I ever did see. Clapshaw crawled onder a straw pile in the barn, an' sot intu prayin yu cud a-hearn him a mile sumthin 'bout the plagues ove Yegipt, an' the pains ove the secon death. I tell yu now he lumbered.

"Sicily, she squatted in the cold spring, up tu her years, an turn'd a milk crock over her head, while she wer a drownin a mess ove bees onder her coats. I went tu her, an' sez I, 'Yu hes got anuther new sensashun haint yu?' Sez she

"'Shet yer mout, yu cussed fool!'

"Sez I, 'Power'ful sarchin' feelin bees gins a body, don't they?'

" 'Oh, lordy, lordy, Sut, these yere 'bominabil insex is jis' burnin me up!'

" 'Gin 'em a mess ove SODY,' sez I, 'that'll cool 'em off, an' skeer the las' durn'd one ofen the place.'

"She lifted the crock, so she cud flash her eyes at me, an' sea, 'Yu go tu hell!' jis es plain. I thought, takin all things tugether, that p'raps I mout es well put the mountin atwix me an' that plantashun; en' I did hit.

"Thar warnt an' 'oman, ur a gal at that weddin, but what thar frocks, an' stocking wer too tite fur a week. Bees am wus on wimen than men, enyhow. They hev a farer chance at 'em. Nex day I passed ole Hawley's, an' his gal Betts wer sittin in the porch, wif a white hankerchef tied roun her jaws; her face wer es red es a beet, an' her eyebrows hung 'way over heavy. Sez I, 'Hed a fine time at the weddin, didn't yu?' 'Yu mus' be a durn'd fool,' wer every word she sed. I hadent gone a hundred yards, ontil I met Missis Brady, her hans fat, an' her ankils swelled ontil they shined. Sez she,

" 'Whar yu gwine, Sut?'

"'Bee huntin,' sez I.

"'Yu jis' say bees agin, yu infunel gallinipper, an' I'll scab yer head wif a rock.'

"Now haint hit strange how tetchus they am, on the subjick ove bees?

"Ove all the durn'd misfortinit weddins ever since ole Adam married that heifer, what wer so fon' ove talkin tu snaix, an' eatin appils, down ontil now, that one ove Sicily's an' Clapshaw's wer the worst one fur noise, disappintment, skeer, breakin things, hurtin, trubbil, vexashun ove spirrit, an' gineral swellin. Why, George, her an' him cudent sleep tugether fur ni ontu a week, on account ove the doins ove them ar hot- footed, 'vengeful 'bominabil littil insex. They never will gee tugether, got tu bad a start, mine what I tell yu. Yu haint time now tu hear how ole Burns finished his bull-ride, an' how I cum tu du that lofty, topliftical speciment ove fas' runnin. I'll tell yu all that sum uther time. Ef eny ove 'em axes after me, tell 'em that I'm over in Fannin, on my way tu Dahlonega. They is huntin me tu kill me, I is fear'd.

"Hit am an orful thing, George, tu be a natral born durn'd fool. Yu se never 'sperienced hit pussonally, hev yu? Hits made pow'fully agin our famerly, an all owin tu dad. I orter bust my head open agin a bluff ove rocks, an' jis' wud du hit, ef I warns a cussed coward. All my yeathly 'pendence is in these yere laigs d'ye see 'em? Ef they don't fail, I may turn human sum day, that is sorter human, enuf tu be a Squire, ur school cummisiner. Ef I wer jis' es smart es I am mean, an' ornery, I'd be President ove a Wild Cat Bank in less nor a week. Is sperrits plenty over wif yu?"

Remnants

Today I thought I'd post a few remnants of various trips from all around West Virginia. One thing I've found to be true while travelling the countryside, you never know what you are going to find right around the bend.



I've also learned several valuable lessons while driving down the lesser known backroads, such as not all roads are listed on a map, and if you are on an unknown road and you see grass growing in the middle of it, well, that is a pretty good sign that you need to turn around and find an alternate route.



Conversely, I have discovered many interesting sites, met many great people and have rediscovered the uniqueness of Appalachia. It truly is an adventure every time I head for the hills.

It never fails that you find the most interesting sights alongside these country roads, such as this sign that we lucked onto near Birch River. Do you rent pigs?



I've saw wonders of the natural world and an outdoorsmans paradise.



And I've found one of the last vestiges of real, honest-to-God wilderness.



I've discovered scenic beauty that will bring tears to your eyes, and make you intensely aware that you are part of something larger than you ever imagined.



I was so impressed that I began to recognize beauty everywhere I turned, even in things that I would typically overlook.

Like this fungi...



And this milkweed...



And amidst a forest of color, I even noticed...



And lastly, I even grew to appreciate the significance of all this crap.



I would highly recommend that you take to the backroads, keep an open mind, and discover yourself in a new land.

The Ballad of Eugene Butcher

A few years ago, I remember hearing a true central West Virginia folksong about Eugene Butcher, a brakeman for the railroad. I got to thinking about it a few days ago, and decided to do a little research on it.

I believe our folk hero was born Eugene F. Butcher and that he was the son of Granville & Madura Butcher. Eugene was born in October of 1890 in the Salt Lick District of Braxton County, WV. He married Bessie Beatrice Butcher, daughter of J.N. and Margaret Butcher on July 21, 1909 in Weston, Lewis County, WV. Eugene’s father Granville went mostly by his initials G.S.M. Butcher, and he worked at the lumber company’s planing mill in Weston, so I’m sure Eugene grew up near the lumber industry and the mills, and that he was very capable at his job.

After the horrible accident that claimed Eugene Butcher’s life, there seems to have been several children (both boys and girls) born in that area of West Virginia that were named after Eugene Butcher. I found several instances of boys with the first and middle names of Eugene Butcher, and even several instances of girls with the first name of Eugenia or with their first and middle names being Eugenia Butcher. I even found one instance of a middle name of a girl being Eugene. The births of these children all fell within a 15 month window of Eugene’s death, so I’ve no doubt they were named in his honor.

Here is a link to a recorded version of “The Ballad of Eugene Butcher” that was performed by Georgie Carr of Gilmer County, WV in 1986. The recording comes from the Oral History Collection at Glenville State College in Glenville, WV.

Below I’ve transcribed the words to the Ballad and I’ve done my best to get them correct. I may be off a few words here or there, but I think it is complete.

The Ballad of Eugene Butcher

Eugene Butcher was a brakesman,
Toiling for the B & O,
While enlisted, 33 wrecked,
And threw him far below.

When his comrades found him later
He was fastened ‘neath the rod
“Release me, please,” he pleaded
And in prayer he turned to God.

“Lord, receive my soul in Heaven,
Give to me a home on high,
Where I’ll meet my own dear mother,
God, protect my wife and child.”

Yes, he had a wife and baby,
Toiling for them day by day.
And perhaps for him she is kneeling,
“God have mercy” hear her say.

Someone brings to her the message,
See her kiss her darling babe,
as she reads the fateful story,
“Killed last night on Hawkins Grade”.

In obedience to the engine,
O’er the icy rails he sped,
Twas the first of February,
And he was carried back home dead.

It was the first of February,
In the year of Nineteen and twelve,
It was in the town of Weston
that Eugene he did dwell.

To the home of Melvin Meadows,
he was taken that fatal night,
and there he lived eleven hours,
and as though asleep he died.

And we trust he entered Heaven,
Earnestly, he prayed while here
And we hope sometime to meet him
Up there with our Savior dear.

And it was his brother trainmen,
That greets him as he rushes by,
Though it may be our last greeting
‘til we meet again on high.

The Farmer's Old Wife

Recently I've been looking at folktales, rhymes and ballads from the Old Country where my people came from hundreds of years ago. "Over the Water" is the way my granny referred to the Old Country. I think I have connections to most countries of Europe: Germany, England, Scotland, Ireland, Sweden, France and I'm sure I'm leaving out some of them. For the most part, my people were weathly and from priminent families, but that has since went the way of the weasel in this country. I guess I descend from too many "Seventh Sons of the Seventh Son" to have inherited anything except a pride in my heritage and all of the old stories. Of course, to me, those are worth more than gold. Anyway, for some reason I've been in search of the old stories from over there, and I'm finding many variations of stories that I grew up with on a mountain in Pendleton County, WV. I'll be posting one's that I find of special interest over the next several months. I'll try not to bombard you with these stories, songs, etc, since I don't know how much you all find them of interest. If anyone out there knows of any good books of these stories, songs, ballads, etc, please let me know.

With that said, today I'm going to post an old "whistling song" from Sussex, England titled "The Farmer's Old Wife". It was called a whistling song because all the listeners were expected to whistle between every verse. I can just imagine how much joy this song must have brought to my people over the generations. I remember hearing this one growing up, although it was a slightly different version than this.

The Farmer's Old Wife.

There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,

[Chorus of whistlers.]

There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,
And he had a bad wife, as many knew well.

[Chorus of whistlers.]

Then Satan came to the old man at the plough, -
‘One of your family I must have now.

‘It is not your eldest son that I crave,
But it is your old wife, and she I will have.’

‘O, welcome! good Satan, with all my heart,
I hope you and she will never more part.’

Now Satan has got the old wife on his back,
And he lugged her along, like a pedlar’s pack.

He trudged away till they came to his hall-gate,
Says he, ‘Here! take in an old Sussex chap’s mate!’

O! then she did kick the young imps about, -
Says one to the other, ‘Let’s try turn her out.’

She spied thirteen imps all dancing in chains,
She up with her pattens, and beat out their brains.

She knocked the old Satan against the wall, -
‘Let’s try turn her out, or she’ll murder us all!’

Now he’s bundled her up on his back amain,
And to her old husband he took her again.

‘I have been a tormenter the whole of my life,
But I ne’er was tormenter till I met with your wife.’

One Fall Day

One Fall Day, I slowed to admire...

The beauty of nature.

All around I looked and all around I felt...

That I belonged to the Ages.

Aftermath

A few days after the rain stopped, the grown-up’s figured it would be safe to venture down into the valley to witness the damage first hand and to check on some of our friends and give them a hand if they needed it. Since we were on the mountain, we were relatively safe from the floodwaters, only Burns Holler road got washed out and the cow barn got destroyed, and from the reports we heard throughout the valley, we considered ourselves very lucky. It seemed that every community had at least one life lost, and some communities were completely washed away. In all, I believe Pendleton County had 16 people to lose their lives in the flood.



Riverton after the flood.

We heard over the radio that there was a State of Emergency called and that we were not supposed to be out on the roads, but we had no choice in the matter. All of our meat and refrigerated goods were lost and while we had home canned food, there was no electricity in which to run most of the stoves in the neighborhood, and we were out of bottle gas for the gas range, the gas was supposed to be delivered the day the flood hit! It seemed that the community of Monkeytown as a whole migrated to The Salvation Army stand in Riverton to eat. They informed us that we’d likely be without electricity for at least a month and told us under no circumstances to drink the water from our spring until it had time to settle because it was likely contaminated. We knew we could boil it on the wood cookstove and it would be fine, but the sheer amount of water that we would need for use would be a full time job with as many of us as there was. So this really limited our ability to fend for ourselves, no electricity, no water, and no meat. We could have made it if we had to, but there was an easier alternative, and that was The Salvation Army. Luckily, The Salvation Army served hot soups and plenty of coffee and hot chocolate, they really took care of everyone. I don’t know what we’d have done without the Salvation Army people coming in and helping us, and to this day I always give money to the Salvation Army during the holidays.

I don’t want to talk bad about any of the charitable organizations but I feel compelled to tell about one in particular that I still view as particularly repugnant, and that is the American Red Cross. They too were called in and made a big show of it, but didn’t help anyone that I know of. They gave moral support, but to the people who had just lost everything they owned, they needed more than talk. It seems the Red Cross said their resources would be better spent in the more populated area’s, which as we found out, were not in Pendleton County. Luckily, the good people at The Salvation Army pulled through for many people. They fed us, gave out blankets and water, and worked in conjunction with The National Guard to determine who needed help the worst. That is the way everyone thought it should be. We were lucky, we just only lost our road, we still had our homes, so we didn’t expect any help . It was nice that they were feeding us, and they always had plenty and were so nice about making everyone comfortable. Later, after the worst of the flood was mostly cleaned up, the National Guard came and rebuilt our holler road, and we were grateful for that.



Another view of post-flood Riverton.

While we were in Riverton, we (even us kids) pitched in and helped some of the people down there to clean out their homes. I vividly remember the home of our distant cousin Bill Bland, which was packed full of mud and debris. His home and all of his belongings were completely destroyed. He was left with the shell of the house. We all pitched in and helped carry buckets of mud and rocks out of the house and dump them over near the riverbank. The National Guardsmen didn’t help in this area, they were far too busy trying to get the roads open and the bridges secured so help could get in to Pendleton County. I remember the dismay of the Bland Family at finding family photos and such, they were usually just remnants but of course they were trying to salvage everything that they could. It took several days to clean out their home and they were grateful for the help we could give them. We also helped several other families down there, we had to stay in Riverton all day anyway because we had to conserve gasoline to get back and forth from home and there, and Riverton was the only place where food was served and besides, so many people were in need and we were in a position to help



Flood damaged Riverton.

I remember also picking Dad up from work, we’d meet him at the limeplant bridge, he could drive the three miles down the holler from the plant to the bridge, but the bridge had been so badly damaged that you had to cross it on foot and meet someone on the other side to take you on home. I remember seeing the legs of a sheep sticking out of the underside of the bridge, I know that sheep hung there for the better part of six months after the flood. There were dead livestock all along the riverbanks but seeing that sheep squished against that bridge really stuck with me.



The Destruction in Riverton. This is near Bill Bland's home.

After about a week, the road to Franklin was opened back up and we were told there was a huge relief shelter set up where you could get everything from food to couches to clothing to chainsaws. The shelter was a big inflated nylon bubble that was 500 feet long and 300 feet wide. Everyone referred to it as the “Bubble Tent”. We first went to the Bubble Tent when we took some of the people from Riverton over there. These people had lost everything and they were really in need. My family didn’t plan on getting anything from the Bubble Tent because we hadn’t lost like many people, but the folks who ran it told us to please take anything we wanted because there was so much stuff coming in from all over the country that they just didn’t have room for it all. We then didn’t feel at all bad about taking stuff from them. We did get a lot of food. The ladies who worked there told Mom to get us kids some clothes because they knew that she didn’t have any way to wash up our stuff we would at least have clean clothes to wear, so we got a lot of clothes.


The outside of the Bubble Tent.


My Uncle Shell who had lost his home and everything he had, volunteered at the Bubble Tent and he really helped people get the stuff they needed. He knew everyone in the county and gave a lot of stuff out to families who may not have lost stuff in the flood, but were really hard up none-the-less, and he made sure that everyone got all they could haul away. He confirmed that if stuff sat there for a few days, The Salvation Army would tell headquarters that such stuff was no longer needed, and he knew that there was still a great need in Pendleton County. He practically begged people to take anything that they could use, or to get stuff that they could take to a neighbor and such. Many people got new wood stoves, and kerosene heaters, and even furniture. Many people didn’t realize that these things would be needed in the winter months, because there wasn’t going to be any electricity and in many places, even roads to get in and out. I think Uncle Shell was excellent at determining which people needed what items, and he had a knack for looking at the months ahead instead of just looking at immediate needs of people. It was also good that Uncle Shell remembered the elderly and the sickly who weren’t able to get to the Bubble Tent and he would send items to them by way of a neighbor. I don’t think many people knew just how lucky there were to have Uncle Shell looking out for their interests.


The inside of the Bubble Tent.


I also remember the Presbyterian Church over in Franklin opened a donated goods shelter for people to get what they pleased. The Methodist Church did as well, and we went there too, they had lots of food which they insisted that we take because Mom was feeding such a large family, at that time there were 20 mouths to feed. We made many trips to the Bubble Tent, and since it was the only place in the county that was open to shop at, all you had to do was holler “Bubble Tent” and everyone packed into the car.


The Salvation Army, The National Guard and The Bubble Tent helped a lot of people get the household goods, food and clothing that got them back on their feet, and they really did a lot of good. There’s an old mountain saying “when you do a good deed for me and mine, I'll repay the kindness a thousand times”, and it is for this reason I will continue to donate to The Salvation Army every time that I am able. They really done right by Pendleton County in the months following The Great Flood of 1985.

16 Dead, Millions in Damages in Pendleton Flood

The Pendleton Times
November 14, 1985

Flood Leaves 16 Dead in Pendleton, $Hundreds of Millions in Damages
Entire County Pounded by Worst Flood in History

High waters resulting from five days of steady rain roared down the hollows and valleys of Pendleton County November 4 leaving at least 16 persons dead and hundreds homeless in the worst flood to hit this county in history.

Hundreds of homes were washed away and hundreds more were destroyed as walls of raging water struck with unyielding force. Rivers overflowing their banks cut new river channels through farms and skimmed thousands of acres of rich top soil from bottom land leaving mountains of rock and sand in its place.
Property damages will run into hundreds of millions of dollars. Farm machinery, buildings, mobile homes, dead cattle, sheep, hogs and poultry were strewn along the entire length of the county as if this once fertile agricultural valley had been turned into a giant trash dump.

The community of Riverton, a town of approximately 150 persons situated in the North Fork Valley, was particularly hard hit. Some six or eight homes along the North Fork River washed completely away, and practically every other house and business place in the community was either destroyed or extensively damaged.

Much of the Smoke Hole area, nationally known for its rugged beauty and good trout fishing, was gutted. The raging water extended across the narrow valley from mountainside to mountainside sweeping away houses and road and everything in its path, leaving sheer vertical cliffs on each side extending into its path, leaving sheer vertical cliffs on each side extending into the river channel with no semblance of a road to be seen.

Evacuation centers were setup in the Franklin Elementary School where approximately 60 persons spent Monday and Tuesday nights and in the Dixie School at Riverton. However, it was necessary to evacuate the Dixie School Monday night when it was on the verge of collapsing.

The county was isolated from the outside works for three days with 18 bridges washed out and massive slides blocking roads in all sections of the county. Electricity and telephone service were halted with utility poles washed out and trees across lines. The only communication out of the county was provided by ham radio operators who worked 24 hours a day relaying emergency messages.

Communities within the county were isolated from each other making it impossible for local service organizations to render assistance to many areas. The Franklin Fire Department sent teams of members to try to get to isolated areas to assess their needs and try to get emergency supplies to them. Attempts were made to obtain help from the National Guard at Buckhannon and the Elkins Fire Department, but they were unable to get past Harman.

Sanitation and health problems posed a threat until the National Guard came in with helicopters and began airlifting medical supplies to isolated areas. Of particular concern were shortages of insulin and nitroglycerin and a means of distributing the supplies that were available to those who need them.

Water supplies throughout the county either were destroyed or the water was rendered unfit for drinking. All community water systems in the county were knocked out.

The large spring five miles south of Franklin which has been the sources of the town's water supply since the 1930s was filled with rock and gravel and much of the water line leading from the spring to town was washed out. Volunteers and the town maintenance crew working over the weekend laid 5,000 feet of water line through the fields south of Franklin. Town residents hauled water in buckets from a spring at the Fred Mullenax residence west of Franklin until Wednesday when the town water system was placed back into operation.

The community water system at Circleville was ruined, and several thousand feet of water line was washed out in the community water system being installed at Upper Tract. Residents have been boiling their water before using it on the advice of county sanitarian Raymond Harr.

Sewage also has been creating a major health hazard. The lagoon in the Franklin sewer system was washed out, and sewage throughout the county is running directly into streams and rivers.

Electricity was restored in Franklin on Wednesday and long distance telephone service from Franklin was restored Friday, but most of the remainder of the county still was without either electric service or telephone service on Monday of this week.

Two mobile home parks and four trailer camps along the South Branch of the Potomac River near Franklin were washed away or completely destroyed. Completely wiped out were the Trout Rock Trailer Park and Hanging Rock Trailer Park, both south of Franklin, and the trailer park at Meck's Cabins where 63 trailers and cottages washed away, and Thompson's Trailer Camp and Riverside Trailer Park north of Franklin and Cave Country Camping Area south of Franklin.

The swinging bridge spanning the South Branch of the Potomac River in South Franklin, which has survived floods for 45 years, was washed away, and the approach to the bridge a half- mile south of Franklin leading to Propst Gap was washed away.

Pendleton, along with seven other counties, was declared a federal disaster area last Thursday by President Reagan, making it eligible for federal assistance.