National Parks * Groundhogs ¢ Coal and Tobacco Alternatives ¢ The WVEC
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THE APPALACH
THE CENTER FOR APPALACHIAN STUDIES AND SERVIC Volume 12, Number 1 e $4.50
| MAGAZINE
MRE NNESSEE STATE UNIVERSITY
PROPERTY OF ARCHIVES OF APPALACHIA EAST TENNESSEE STATE UNIVERSITY
Appalachia and the Environment
Plus: Fiction, Poetry, and Reviews
The Woods
| breathe through the woods ~_almost silent from my Indian blood.
A spot suddenly stops me.
Not a leaf shines different or even special,
but here, a tingle goes up my back.
| am almost frightened by my own stillness.
It is not a feeling that | belong or don’t belong. It is an assurance that | am alive
wearing all of the woods like a skin.
| am no more aware of one part than another. From this spot, | am in the center of the world, and | stand for a long time breathing
to listen and look the woods in and out
before stepping further.
There is so much noise in the woods that there is none.
| like the rooms of woods,
slipping up a bank under pines or shouldering a laurel thicket. | like the way trees place themselves in the best way possible, the staged azaleas with their color
holding out their arms to be in front
even in the middle of the forest,
ladyslippers so blatant in shape that | am embarrassed.
At times, a wine bottle waits as all remembrance,
its green more jagged and crystalline
than the rocks securing it in the stream.
The hemlock that bends over the road
and twists slow to its fullness
is a fertility rite that the air bites into.
In the woods,
| am truly here and nowhere else.
| am as happy as when | am with you and no one else. You can see the braille of truth
on the underside of chipped off bark.
When | press my body to a tree, it is my prayer to the earth that we are one.
Cover photograph by Kenneth Murray. Cover layout by Jane Hillhouse.
A doe and her fawn step from the woods into the field’s less stiff air
and our hearts leap at each other.
In these woods,
there are things having lives.
Jack, a quarterback on the varsity team,
said he was going to take me up in the woods.
Oh no, you're not, | said.
| was twelve with blonde hair nearly to my knees, that swayed like a lizard’s tail when | ran,
and | could run fast.
He tied my arms to the porch swing,
but when he went inside,
| loosened the ropes thinking with heartbeats in my ears, Oh no, you're not.
When my friends played basketball with Jack,
he spit thickly and said words that made us brace. | was never safe if he saw me walking alone. Many times, Reba’s grandfather in a nearby house would hit him away with a broom as | outran Jack to the porch. Jack’s father led singing in church.
His mother taught Sunday School class,
of black and white polka dot dress.
With Jack’s slam back through the screen door,
| was running aslant the yard
where a basketball lay.
| threw it hard into his stomach.
He folded and fell.
| flew free and ran back for the rope.
| can tie better than you,
| tied his feet and hands together.
His parents were angry
when they came home from work, hours later,
and found him still tied on the ground.
At a recent decoration at Silver Chapel Church, Jack stood with his new second wife and their toddler and | stood speechless when they said hello.
continued on inside back cover
Spring 1995 Volume 12, Number 1
Editor Jane H. Woodside Assistant Editor Nancy Fischman Poetry Editor Jo Carson Music Editor Ed Snodderly Book Review Editor Sandra L. Ballard Memberships Frieda Souder
Music Consultant Carl King Support Staff Charles Moore 0 Penelope Lane Volunteers Darla Dye 0 Jack Higgs ? Blair White
Student Assistant Janet Hearne
Editorial Advisory Board ¢ Bert Allen * Ed Cabbell ¢ ¢ Pauline Cheek ¢ Mary Chiltoskey ¢ Robert J. Higgs * Marat Moore ¢ Rita Quillen * Fred Waage
Center for Appalachian Studies and Services Director Jean Haskell Speer
Now & Then has been published three times a year since 1984 by the Center for Appalachian Studies and Services (CASS) at East Tennessee State University. CASS is one of the State of Tennessee’s Centers of Excellence supporting artistic, scholarly, and public service projects in the region. When you become a Friend of CASS ($15 per year, $20 for institutions and libraries), you receive three issues of Now & Then, three issues of News CASS, and other benefits.
Submissions of poetry, fiction, articles, per- sonal essays, graphics, and photographs concerned with Appalachian life, past and present, are wel- comed if accompanied by a self-addressed stamped envelope. Upcoming deadlines: Entrepreneurs & Innovators —July 1, 1995 (for Fall/Winter 1995), Conserving Appalachia — Nov. 1, 1995 (for Spring 1996). Address correspondence to:
Now & Then, Box 70556, ETSU
Johnson City TN 37614-0556
The views expressed in these pages are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent opin- ions of East Tennessee State University or of the Tennessee Board of Regents.
East Tennessee State University is a Tennessee Board of Regents institution. East Tennessee State University is fully in accord with the belief that educational and employment opportunities should be available to all eligible persons without regard to age, sex, race, religion, national origin, or disability.
TBR No. 260-084-94 2M ISSN No. 0896-2693
© Copyright by the Center for Appalachian Studies and Services, 1995 Printed by Inové Graphics, Kingsport, Tenn. Special thanks to Connie Green, Jim Sledge, and Jerry Nagel for his positive groundhog ID.
NOWes THEN
THE APPALACHIAN MAGAZINE
“The immense scale of all this scenery up here causes you to want to look at it by the hour in silence.”
— D.R. Beeson from his journal, In the Spirit of Adventure (1994)
ARTICLES
3 Protecting Appalachia’s National Parks Jane Harris Woodside
7 Before the Blight, Boars, and Acid Rain Charles Maynard
8 Excerpts from /n The Spirit of Adventure D.R. Beeson 10 Putting the Push on Conservation Jill Oxendine 12 Beyond Tobacco/Beyond Coal Richard Cartwright Austin 15 Groundhogs Jim Minick
17 West Virginia’s Environmental Council Mary J. Wimmer Janet Hearne Sharon K. Turnbull
Margaret L. Brown & Donald E. Davis
Arthur S. Smith
22 Appalachian Environmental Organizations 25 Aging Architecture
30 “Il Thought the Whole World Was Going to Die”
32 The Day the Hawks Flew
FICTION
27 Tree of Fire Charles M. Saplak
POETRY
Hilda Downer Rita Quillen Jim Minick Marilyn Kallet
«< The Woods
16 The Cabin at Devil’s Fork 26 What the Moon Knows 33 Rhinoceroses
REVIEWS
34 Lost & Found Fred Chappell by Jeff Daniel Marion 35 Mountains of the Heart Clyde Kessler
by Scott Weidensaul 36 Whistle Over the Mountain: Timber, Track, & Trails in the Tennessee Smokies by Ronald G. Schmidt and William S. Hooks 37 Selu: Seeking the Corn-Mother’s Wisdom by Marilou Awiakta 37 Oakseeds: Stories from the Land by Gary W. Cook 38 Hiking Trails of the Smokies edited by Don DeFoe, Beth Giddens, and Steve Kemp 38 Oak Ridge National Laboratory: The First Fifty Years by Leland Johnson and Daniel Schaffer 39 Ready for Harvest: Clearcutting in the Southern Appalachians video directed by Anne Lewis Johnson
Margaret Lynn Brown M. Rupert Cutler Ernest Lee
Eric Graves
Connie Jordan Green
Phillip Obermiller
MUSIC
40 Black Waters by Jean Ritchie Ed Snodderly
NOW & THEN MAGAZINE
was surprised by what I learned while
editing this issue.
First of all, I had not realized that the membership of national environmental groups has declined so precipitously in the past few years, in some cases as much as 20 or 30 percent. Some speculate that such groups are suffering from “the Gore effect,” from the perception on the part of their members that with a relatively pro- environment administration in office, it was time to turn their attention to other is- sues.
Of course, even as I write, the “Gingrich effect” could well be neutralizing the “Gore effect.” But what is certain — and what is demon- strated by our three page listing of Appa- lachian environmental organizations — is that there are many, many groups in this region dealing with environmental issues, from fighting toxic waste incinerators to forging links to other mountain communi- ties throughout the world in an effort to find sustainable solutions to common problems. The fact that there are so many different environmental groups at work in Appalachian communities today makes Mary J. Wimmer’s account of the West Virginia Environmental Council’s early days important reading. All these groups, from single-issue local groups to Sierra Club chapters, need to know what the other ones are doing, and this statewide umbrella organization performs that net- working function.
I expected to receive stories about en- vironmentalists doing battle against inef- fective government and greedy, insensitive industries. I am certain that there are still plenty of those stories to tell, but I didn’t get any of them. Early in December, I spoke to Don Barger, the current southeastern regional director for the National Parks and Conservation As- sociation. What we need now, he asserts, is for people who used to end up on oppo- site sides of law suits and picket lines to find ways to work together.
Sometime later, I received Jill Oxendine’s interview with Ed E. Will- iams II, a Johnson City attorney who of- ten represents industry in environmental suits. But Williams too made a case for environmentalists and industry becoming partners. This cooperative approach will
2 °¢ Now & Then « Spring 1995
EEE EE EEE OO OL
be tricky since liberal and conservative environmentalists often have values and priorities that aren’t congruent. But it will be interesting to follow new initiatives such as the Southern Appalachian Man and the Biosphere, a broad-based consor- tium affiliated with UNESCO, to see what happens.
hat I hope you’ll hear throughout
Now & Then are the distinctive voices of individuals, from our essayists, our poets, our writers of fiction and non- fiction. At a reception last fall, writer John Bowers told me that what he appre- ciated most about this magazine was that you could still hear each writer’s unique voice. His remark crystallized for me the core of what I’ve inherited from Pat Arnow.
Pat, as most of you already know, left for Durham, N.C., last summer to become editor of Southern Exposure. As her suc- cessor, I’ve discovered over the past few months the ways in which she has made my job more difficult and the ways in which she has made it painless. She has made the task easy because during her eight years as editor, she established Now & Then so firmly that it is not difficult to attract well-written and stimulating work. She has made the job more difficult be- cause she set such high editorial stan- dards.
With this issue, we will also be saying another farewell, this time to our poetry editor, Jo Carson. Jo has not only Spent many long hours reading each and every poetry submission, she has also fre- quently contributed pieces and even more frequently offered advice. She will still be supplying us with essays from time to
Nature abhors a vacuum, and so do we. Send us your letters. We would like to start pub- lishing Letters to the Editor in Now & Then’ssummer issue. So if youhave something to say about anything you've read here, put your thoughts down on paper andsend it to: Editor/ Now & Then, Box 70556, ETSU, Johnson City TN 37614-0556. We reserve the right to edit.
time. We appreciate all of her past work and look forward to hearing from her be- fore too long.
Linda Parsons will be our new poetry editor. If her name seems familiar, it js because she won both first prize and an honorable mention in last year’s Now & Then Appalachian Poetry Contest. A playwright and a poet, she has published her poetry in publications such as the Iowa Review and Appalachian Heritage. Linda works as an editor and technical writer at the University of Tennessee- Knoxville. Please send your poetry sub- missions directly to Linda Parsons at 2909 Fountain Park Blvd., Knoxville TN 37917.
We will also have, for the first time, the services of a book review editor. Sandy Ballard is currently an assistant professor of English at Carson-Newman College in Jefferson City, Tenn. Moti- vated by her deep interest in Appalachia, she is currently winding up a stint as the highly competent editor of Appalink: The Newsletter of the Appalachian Studies As- sociation and as the Association’s secre- tary. Again, send book reviews to Sandy Ballard at the Department of English, Carson-Newman College, Box 2059, Jefferson City TN 37760.
Ax finally, a few words about my- self: I am assistant director of the Center for Appalachian Studies and Ser- vices at East Tennessee State University, where I have worked since 1987. Almost from the beginning, I’ve contributed to Now & Then, as time allowed. I have just finished co-editing a volume with Susan Eike Spalding on vernacular dance re- cently published by Greenwood Press, Communities in Motion. The book project has made the prospect of getting a publi- cation out from start to finish in less than five years enormously attractive.
My special thanks to assistant editor Nancy Fischman for the help (and all the reassurance) she has offered as I worked on this first issue. We promise to continue to hear, to respect, and to do our best to preserve all of the many distinctive voices from the Southern Appalachian moun- tains.
— Jane Harris Woodside, editor
An Interview with NPCA’s Don Barger
Protecting Appalachia’s National
Parks
A native son goes national with lessons learned from working with Appalachian grass-roots organizations.
With over 450,000 members, the National Parks and Conser- vation Association (NPCA) is one of the largest, yet at the same time one of the least well-known, of all the national environmental organizations. ““We work the national parks,” explains the organization’s new southeast regional di- rector, Don Barger. “The NPCA has stayed very focused.”
But concentrating on national parks is not as simple as it sounds. “You can’t draw a dotted line on the landscape around a na- tional park and just protect that little piece. You have to look at the larger picture.”
Using national parks to draw people into looking at the larger picture — and to search for new solutions to long-standing environmental questions — lies at the heart of much of what Barger does as the NPCA’s first southeast re- gional director. “My job is to take people wherever they are and say, ‘This is how environmental issues affect something you re- ally care about.’”’
Currently based in Washington, D.C., the association was founded in 1919, just three years after the establishment of the National Park Service (NPS), by its first director Stephen Mather. Its purpose is to advocate for the park system and to guard against its commercialization and exploitation.
In the early 1990s, just when many believed that with Clinton’s election, the environmental movement was poised to exert unprecedented influence, most large national organizations were Startled by substantial drops in membership, as much as 20 or 30 percent in some cases. Possible explanations ranged from the “Gore effect,” the feeling on the part of many that the envi- ronment was being looked after by an environmentalist vice president, to members’ impatience with some environmental or- ganizations’ frequent requests for money.
Whatever the reasons, NPCA proved to be an exception. From 1990 to 1994, membership more than doubled, from just over 200,000 to around 450,000 members. Barger believes that NPCA flourished precisely because of its concentration on na- tional parks. “The appeal of the national parks cuts across politi- cal boundaries. A lot of people who would never consider themselves environmentalists have a real gut level love for na- tional parks,” he notes.
Barger became the NPCA’s first southeast regional director in 1992. After having worked as a community organizer for Save Our Cumberland Mountains, a network of community citi- zens’ organizations currently operating on Tennessee’s Cumber- land Plateau and in nearby areas, Barger took a job in 1990 with
National Parks and Conservation Assoc.
Don Barger
by Jane Harris Woodside
the Environmental Policy Institute in Washington, D.C., as the director of the Citizen Mining Project.
However, he never intended to stay in Washington. “I wanted to get whatever experience and credentials were necessary to get a job back in the real world,” explains Barger, who was born in Charleston, W. Va. and spent most of his childhood in Red Bank, Tenn., near Chattanooga. “This is where I’m from, and this is where I feel comfortable as a person.”
Barger has come back home, more or less, to Norris, Tenn., the community near Knoxville where he maintains an office in his modest, 1950s-vintage ranch house. Finding him in his office, however, can be difficult. His jurisdiction includes more than 60 park units, including the Great Smoky Mountains National Park (Great Smoky Mountains NP), along with the Blue Ridge Parkway, the Everglades, and numerous smaller parks, battlefields, historic sites, and national monuments. His territory stretches south from Arkansas, Kentucky, and southern West Virginia, down to Florida, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Is- lands, and west to Louisiana.
An Early Warning System
Air pollution is a good example of an environmental problem that refuses to be contained by those dotted-line park bound- aries. Acid deposition, ground-level ozone, and visibility impair- ment are the three major air pollution problems at the Great Smoky Mountains NP.
To focus on the visibility issue: Back in the early 1950s vis- ibility in the park was almost on a par with that in the western United States, points out Thomas Cahill, a researcher at the Uni- versity of California-Davis in a recent New York Times article. Since 1948, average summertime visibility in the Smokies has deteriorated from about 65 miles to under 12 miles. A 10-year study conducted by Cahill and his colleague Robert Eldred for the federal government and released last year found a 39 percent increase in haze-producing sulfate concentrations in the Smokies, the worst of the 12 parks studied across the nation.
“Well, as some people remind me, we’re dealing with moun- tains that are called the Great Smoky Mountains. “Why do you think they call them the Smokies?’ I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that,” sighs Barger. The Smokies were actually named after the mist-like clouds that rise up after a rain storm, not for the uniform white haze that today often shrouds the mountains and the region.
Data collected at the park has established that fine particulate matter, mainly sulfates, is responsible for 70 to 85 percent of the impaired visibility. The sulfates which find their way to the Smokies are formed from the sulfur dioxide gas released into the
Spring 1995 ¢ Now & Then e 3
air from fossil fuel-fired plants and other industrial sources in the eastern U.S., especially in the Ohio and Tennessee River Valleys. When high sulfate levels meet up with high humidity, especially during the summer months, the sulfate particles ab- sorb water to form the haze that washes out colors and obscures views. In addition, the EPA is presently investigating possible health effects of fine particulate matter.
Some of the haze does occur naturally, Barger concedes. “But if you go to the Smokies in the winter, right after a cold front has taken all of the stagnant air and just blown it out, then you see what’s natural. There’s a beautiful, fine blue haze that hugs the ridges. However, if you look back over the Tennessee Valley, you can see a very discernible, yellowish brown line that is definitely not natural.
“For me, the parks are very much in the canary-in-the-coal- mine role,” he continues. “We are talking about poor visibility, but at the same time, we’re talking about the air we breathe. I am not only interested in protecting parks, but I’m also inter- ested in dealing with regional air quality for the health benefits that would result.”
The reason that Great Smoky Mountains NP staff can talk so knowledgeably about levels of sulfates and other pollutants such as ozone and how they affect the park has to do with a 1977 amendment to the Clean Air Act. This legislation mandated that air quality in national parks, including visibility, had to be pro- tected; it specifically stipulated that “Class I’ areas, including parks with areas of over 6,000 acres, receive the highest degree of protection. Great Smoky Mountains NP was among the nearly 200 areas that received the Class I designation.
Under the 1977 Clean Air Act, federal land managers respon- sible for these Class I areas are obligated to determine whether emissions from proposed new pollution sources within 120 miles will adversely affect the park before construction permits are issued. In order to be able to make that determination, the Smokies established an air quality monitoring and research pro- gram in 1980 to determine what pollutants were in the air, where they were coming from, and what their effects have been on park resources.
Once the park began to document its air pollution problems, the search for solutions began. One result was the 1992 Forum on Air Quality Management for Class I areas in the Southern Appalachians conference held in Gatlinburg, Tenn., and spon- sored with the NPS’s support by the Southern Appalachian Man
Great Smoky Mountains National Park
Two images of Gregory Bald in the Great Smoky Moun- tains National Park: (left) Visibility is 12 miles, the current
4 ¢- Now &Then e Spring 1995
and the Biosphere (SAMAB) program, part of an international environmental effort under the auspices of UNESCO. Over 100 representatives from state and federal governments, industry, universities, and environmental groups came together to begin crafting a comprehensive regional strategy to address air pollu- tion problems.
Out of this conference, the Southern Appalachian Mountain Initiative (SAMI) was born. Currently being organized by eight Appalachian states, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), the NPS, and the Forest Service, SAMI will attempt to establish the necessary forums and processes to foster a coop- erative approach to air pollution problems in the Southern Appa- lachians.
“It would be hard to overestimate the value of having a Class I area in our neck of the woods,” asserts Barger. “AII of this enormous collective effort around SAMI would not be happen- ing unless we had the park here and the park had taken its re- sponsibilities to monitor air quality seriously.”
Dueling Mandates
But finding the type of cooperative effort between federal and state agencies represented by SAMI can be difficult. In 1992, the Catoosa Water District applied to a federal agency, the Rural Development Administration, for a loan to help finance a water supply dam, treatment plant, and development of a 100- acre lake on Clear Creek, about 20 miles upstream from the pro- tected part of the Obed River system. It is estimated that if built, the dam will divert 1.5 million gallons per day from the Obed water system. The Catoosa Water District is charged with sup- plying drinking water to the northwestern portion of rural Cum- berland County in Tennessee.
With its headwaters on the Cumberland Plateau, the Obed eventually flows into the Tennessee River; portions of the Obed, along with segments of several of its tributaries, have been a Federal Wild and Scenic River protected area administered by the NPS since 1976. The Wild and Scenic Rivers Act of 1968 protected certain U.S. rivers by limiting development, including the construction of federal dams, along their banks in order to preserve these waterways as recreational resources. Although the proposed dam was not on a portion of Clear Creek included in the protected area, Barger reasons that “‘a watershed is a wa- tershed. If you take 1.5 million gallons per day out of the Obed watershed, it doesn’t matter whether you take it out right next to
summer average; and (right) an example of a good day with an estimated visibility of 65 miles.
SOCM: Asking the Right Questions
Educated as an architect at the University of Tennessee- Knoxville, Don Barger worked for seven years as a community organizer for Save Our Cumberland Mountains (SOCM). Be- cause SOCM does deal at times with environmental issues, it is often misidentified as an environmental organization. It is not. Formed in 1972, it is in fact a network of community chapters. Though initially it concentrated on strip mining is- sues, over the years SOCM’s focus has broadened so that to- day, it helps communities — mostly located on or near Tennessee’s Cumberland Plateau — help themselves in deal- ing with problems ranging from obtaining better roads to at- tracting high-paying, nonpolluting industries.
I have an amazing amount of respect for SOCM. It truly is a citizen-run organization. The board, which is completely made up of volunteer citizens from the region, really does make all the decisions. At board meetings, the staff sits at a circular table over in the corner and speaks when spoken to. You deal with whatever the community determined was the issue.
Just about everything I do today derives from my years at SOCM: connecting people with people, connecting people with resources, doing problem solving. Probably one of the most important lessons of SOCM was that if you do something for people, you create a mystique, you always leave them with the belief that you know how to do something, and they don’t. Even if you just sit there with them while they write the letter, put the stamp on it and send it, then the reply comes back to them in the mail. It makes a quantum difference. Community people come away from that experience knowing, “/ did that. I can do that.”
When I was working with SOCM, I did a lot of just sitting on the porch and talking. Most city-based organizing models have this rap: You go in and try to keep it under 45 minutes. Then you say “Thanks,” and move onto the next house. It sim- ply doesn’t work that way here.
You go sit on the porch, and you stay half a day. When somebody wants to feed you, you let them feed you. In this re- gion, the best way to gain someone’s trust is not to do some-
the park or 20 miles upstream. That’s 1.5 million gallons less water going through that system each day.”
Once an NPCA member alerted the Association about the dam project, the Association and other environmentalists went into action. They notified their members about the threat to the Obed and organized a letter-writing campaign. Particularly effec- tive was a letter sent to Leon Panetta, then Office of Manage- ment and Budget director. Drafted with Barger’s assistance and co-signed by the conservative National Taxpayers Union and the environmentalist organization, Friends of the Earth, the letter spelled why they believed the project would seriously damage natural resources while wasting taxpayers’ money. All these ef- forts did not manage to get the project scratched, but the NPCA and the Tennessee Citizens for Wilderness Planning pressured the dam proponents to develop a full-scale environmental impact statement which would consider other alternatives. That environ- mental impact statement is currently being done.
thing for them, but to let them do something for you. When you’ ve accepted someone’s hospitality, it’s almost like you be- come part of their family.
I learned from SOCM that it is much more important to have the right question than the right answer. In meetings, | would be a resource person. Before a chapter meeting, I’d meet with the community chairperson and talk about the agenda. “O.K., this item’s probably going to be controversial, and there’s going to be a lot of discussion; this one’s going to go real quick.”” How do you get consensus in a group, how do you do decision making, how do you get Fred to shut up so you can do decision making — just basic facilitation skills. If I felt like people were headed for a familiar pitfall, I would not say, “Well, you’re wrong.” I would say, “I’m aware of this other community over here that’s been through the same thing. Do you think it would be a good idea to find out what they know?”
From my experience, rural people in this area are much, much more tolerant of outside intrusions into their lives than people elsewhere. They all believe that somebody ought to be able to do on their own land whatever they think is proper. Most people are perfectly content to let anybody do anything anywhere, if the effects of what they did stopped at the prop- erty line. If you weren’t disrupting their water system, if you weren’t churning up dust on all their unpaved roads, dust that’s going to cover their gardens and their front porches and their lives, they don’t oppose things.
A lot of rural people are so polite that they will allow you to push and push and push, but they all have a line somewhere. If you go over that line, watch out. They’ ve just decided, “I have to take action now. This person can’t push me any farther.” What I saw trigger that reaction more than anything else was a sense that their community was being disrupted — not commu- nity in a physical sense but as a sense of place and belonging.
I’ve been gone from SOCM for three years now, and al- ready it’s a different organization. It’s not static at all. It moves with the issues and with the people who are involved in it. All in all, it’s a very good reflection of what people in the moun- tains are about.
The dam project loan request was submitted by a local water district with the help of the Tennessee State Planning Office to the Rural Development Administration (RDA); the RDA and the Farmers Home Administration shared some administrative staff. The RDA and Farmers Home Administration have vanished in a recent governmental reorganization and been replaced by the Rural, Economic, and Community Development service (RECD). Then there is the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency, which oversees the nearby Catoosa Wildlife Refuge, and the NPS, of course, with its responsibility for the Obed Wild and Scenic River area itself. The EPA has weighed in with the opinion that planners must do a full-scale environmental impact statement; all of the land involved is included in a watershed un- der the jurisdiction of the Tennessee Valley Authority which has been given the task of developing the environmental impact statement.
“There are nine different governmental agencies involved,
Spring 1995 ¢ Now & Then e 5
and we’re talking about a 12-square-mile area on the Cumber- land Plateau,” says Barger. Each of these government agencies has its own mandate, and often those mandates are at odds. The water district and the RECD are charged with fostering eco- nomic development in rural areas by increasing water supplies. Even though Barger believes that the main beneficiary of this particular project would be a Florida-based developer, he con- cedes that up on the Cumberland Plateau, adequate water sup- plies are hard to come by since rainfall tends to drain rapidly down off the plateau. “After all the years I worked for SOCM, I know the problems. Those folks have two choices: build reser- voirs or go thirsty and stop all development.” On the other hand, the NPS is charged with seeing that the river does not have its scenic and recreational character “unreasonably diminished.”
Barger points out, “If you have a mandate as a federal agency and by implementing that mandate you violate another federal agency’s mandate, how is that resolved? At this point, it’s not. And that’s central to the problem.”
Old Battles, New Solutions?
Recently, the Blue Ridge Parkway found itself taken aback by a Roanoke (Va.) County planning commission decision. Once again, the NPS and the NPCA found themselves having to react to a problem-in-progress.
Begun in 1935 and designed both to run along mountain ridges and to lead past valley farms and fields, the Blue Ridge Parkway extends from Waynesboro, Va., in the north to Chero- kee, N.C., in the south. The crux of the problem of preserving this particular park, says Barger, is that “you have a resource that is 469 miles long and a few hundred feet wide. If someone were to ask you what’s special about this place, easily 90 per- cent of what you’d describe would be outside the park bound- aries. It’s mainly the views, the vistas.”
When in December 1992 the county planning commission recommended a change in zoning from agricultural to residential for several hundred acres bordering the Parkway just south of the city of Roanoke, it threatened one such treasured view. The land in question, known locally as the “bowl and knoll,” lies in a section of Parkway that dips down and travels through the rela- tively urbanized area around Roanoke. An exception is a gentle sweep of pasture which rises up to the forested mountains on both sides.
After the Friends of the Blue Ridge Parkway challenged the decision and developers began filing lawsuits, the Roanoke County Commission tried to strike a compromise by re-zoning the area to allow a lower density of houses than the developers’ application had requested. Still, the compromise would have re- sulted in houses appearing in the Parkway’s viewshed. Since then, the Parkway has been having ongoing conversations with two of the major developers, promising discussions which might lead to a solution satisfactory to both sides.
Whatever the outcome of those discussions, the bowl-and- knoll controversy called attention to the fact that new ap- proaches to land management issues were badly needed. In the past, says Barger, “everyone would fight their particular posi- tion, beat their governmental representatives over the head, and see who won. And that would be the fate of that piece of prop- erty:
This adversarial approach is still necessary in some instances,
6 ° Now & Then « Spring 1995
he says. But the disadvantage is that “you can fight brush fires along the Blue Ridge Parkway forever. As soon as you put that one out, you’ve got three others burning somewhere, and you're exhausted.”
As in the case of air quality, the Parkway battle is in danger of being lost by increments. ‘“‘Nobody’s coming in and putting in Disneyland. It’s a house here, a house there.” The old ap- proaches tend to lead to “the really sort of mushy compromises that please absolutely no one. What we end up with is medioc- rity. We don’t end up with things that are actually planned ahead. How do we begin to change what we’re doing?”
A cooperative approach similar to SAMI and organized in 1993, the Coalition for the Blue Ridge Parkway is one answer to Barger’s question. Barger is among the 36 representatives from the Parkway, other government agencies, conservation groups, tourism councils, universities, and developers belonging to the group. Barger also serves on the executive committee. Currently headed by ex-congressmen Jamie Clark of North Carolina and Jim Olin of Virginia, the Coalition’s mission is to conserve the Parkway’s “physical, cultural, and scenic integrity” through a “community driven process that accommodates growth in a changing environment.”
Figuring out how to accomplish that goal is going to be a long process, says Barger. “We’re going to be inventing things as we go. But it’s obvious that the way to start is to get a broad base of people together ahead of time and ask the right ques- tions,’ notes the ex-SOCM community organizer. “A lot of coa- litions are springing up, efforts that are pulling together traditional adversaries, making them sit around a table and fig- ure out ways they can all balance out their views.
‘“There’s not going to be one solution. We are not putting to- gether a handbook for communities along the Parkway: this is how you protect the Parkway. We are putting together a cata- logue: here are a lot of different ways the land can be protected. Pull out the ideas that apply to you. We want to be a resource to help you in any way we can. You tell us.”
The potential pay-off to this more cooperative approach, Barger believes, is that “you end up with a Parkway. A true win/ win Situation is not a compromise. It’s an agreement where de- velopment and the protection of resources can coexist.”
A New Way of Doing Business?
But there are still plenty of chances for private and public sectors to land on opposite sides of an issue or for governmental agencies to find themselves working at cross purposes with each other. Occasionally government teams, such as Gore’s Inter- agency Task Force on Ecosystem Management, try to come up with ways to improve the system. It’s Barger’s impression that “their idea of ecosystem management is that you just redraw the dotted lines along ecosystems instead of the way they’re drawn now.” He doesn’t subscribe to that view and cites the Obed as supporting evidence. “Nobody’s going to draw a 12-square-mile dotted line around the upper end of the Obed watershed. It’s a problem-driven situation. Until a dam is proposed there, that ecosystem doesn’t become a consideration.”
The problem, he says, has to do with the way that agencies do business. The solution lies in greater communication and
Please see Barger on page 27.
A Hiker’s Diary Gives a Glimpse into Changes in the Smoky Mountains
Before the Blight, Boars, and Acid Rain
the last 80 years, humankind has ex-
perienced many changes, all sorts of changes — social, economic, even geo- graphic. Yet people often assume that the Great Smoky Mountains have managed to remain inviolate in the midst of all these upheavals. The hiking journals of D. R. Beeson point out a different truth.
Born in Western Pennsylvania, not far from the West Virginia line, Donald Ri- chard Beeson, Sr. was an architect who eventually settled in East Tennessee’s Johnson City after having worked as a draftsman for various coal and steel com- panies as well as for the Clinchfield Rail- road. He and his hiking partner, C. Hodge Mathes, an English professor and dean at what was then the East Tennessee State Normal School, left their homes to roam through the Southern Appalachians on four amazing hikes from 1913 to 1915.
In The Spirit of Adventure is Beeson’s record of one such hike made through the Great Smoky Mountains in 1914. This volume has recently been published by Panther Press in collaboration with the Archives of Appalachia, a division of the Center for Appalachian Studies and Ser- vices at East Tennessee State University. The original journal, currently housed in the center’s Archives of Appalachia, was fully illustrated with Beeson’s own pho- tographs, made on 5" x 7" negatives taken with a bulky camera mounted on a wood- en tripod.
Walking 113 miles through “unknown and untrod”’ territory, Beeson and Mathes traveled through old growth forests with giant chestnut and spruce-fir. Their trek along the crest of the Great Smokies was unmarked and offered unparalleled views of North Carolina and Tennessee.
In the eight days of their trip, they en- countered the tracks of bear (but no bear) and very few people. They often lost their way due to poor maps and dense under-
ti almost goes without saying that over
by Charles Maynard
growth. After a “long slide” down the eastern slopes of Mt. Guyot, they found a bed and some much needed food in a log- ging camp at Crestmont on Big Creek.
he Great Smoky Mountains of the | 1990s are very different from those through which Beeson and Mathes passed in 1914. The chestnut trees fell to a blight in the 1930s. A few chestnuts still sprout from the root stock of the ancient forest, but blight usually kills them before maturity.
The spruce-fir forest which greens the heights of the Smokies is dying under the attack of the balsam wooly adelgid. The adelgids have killed the large trees whose weakened condition is caused by acid rain. The rain’s pH factor in the Smokies is more than seven times that of normal rainfall.
In addition to acid rain, the Smokies have become “smokier.” Smog from nearby cities, distant manufacturers, and numerous automobiles settles over the mountains, particularly in the summer months. The views which Beeson and Mathes enjoyed are now available only on the clearest of days after a weather front has “cleaned” the air.
Wild boar, a species unknown in the Eastern mountains in 1914, now inhabit all areas of the Smokies. Their destruc- tion of plant life is well-documented. Their ancestors were Russian boar brought to the area for game hunting in an enclosed area. Eventually the area fell into disrepair, and the boar escaped to proliferate throughout the Southern mountains.
In August of 1994, on the eightieth an- niversary of Beeson and Mathes’ expedi- tion, I and a friend went on an overnight hike to an Appalachian Trail shelter at Spence Field, located right on the North Carolina-Tennessee line. That night, after a wonderful day of hiking, I watched the
sun set in a glorious blaze of color. For a few moments, the clear air and coming darkness allowed us a view similar to the one that greeted Don Beeson’s and C. Hodge Mathes’ eyes back in 1914. Then the lights of the cities of the Tennessee Valley slowly blinked on to compete with the light above.
At our feet spread a scene of the power of humanity and electricity. We could see the city lights from Maryville all the way to Greeneville, a distance of about 70 miles. It was a visible example of the great press of people surrounding the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The brilliant human galaxies in the valley below were in stark contrast to the dim- mer heavenly ones.
( "Co can be both good and bad. Certainly, part of the fascination of Beeson’s journal is that it al-
lows us in the 1990s to see the changes
which have occurred. The establishment of the Great Smoky Mountains National
Park 20 years after Beeson’s and Mathes’
walk was an attempt “to preserve and
protect” the Smokies, in the words of the
National Park Service’s mandate.
Today’s struggle is to balance the press of
humanity with the needs of the Great
Smoky Mountains ecosystem so that fu-
ture generations might be able to enjoy
the wonders of the Smokies, the wonders
Beeson and Mathes experienced so long
ago.
Charles Maynard is the Executive Director of the Friends of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
In the Spirit of Adventure: A 1914 Smoky Mountain Hiking Journal, written by D.R. Beeson. Edited by Norma Myers, Ned Irwin, and Charles W. Maynard. Seymour, Tenn.: Panther Press. 1994.
Spring 1995 ¢« Now & Then e- 7
ee ss ee ae EE
Excerpts from In The Spirit of Adventure: A 1914 Smoky Mountain Hiking Journal
written by D.R. Beeson
C6
The country for as many miles aS you can see is decorated, and in many places, covered with the masses of white fog or cloud that rests all over these mountains in the night time and fills up the valleys. To the south we can see the Nantahala Mountains some forty miles off and to the north, the same distance to the hills about Knoxville, all clear and beautiful.”
Early morning — looking southwest from Thunderhead.
“| am glad to be able to say at last that we know where we are camping and that, while we were lost for an hour this afternoon, we are now located for sure and have made a fine dry little camp under some beech trees that grow so
close together that the moonlight can’t get through.”
“VV ;
e left the cabin at 12:50 and, with a good dinner on board, proceeded to celebrate by taking the wrong trail before we had gone more than two blocks on our way. The Government map is SO poor as to be almost useless till we get to Clingman’s when we get onto another, and, | hope, more accurate sheet of the Geological Survey. It is dated 1910 and should preity well [be] fitted to the actual geography.”
The Hall cabin.
8 - Now &Then « Spring 1995
6 “From the Gap on, we made about a mile an hour and I’m free to confess that | doubt if we could have this last part of our trip at all if the trail had not been broken to some extent quite recently by a party of two, from the footprints, a man and a boy. As it is, we do well to make over the mile an hour as extreme care has to be used on account of the narrowness of the ridge and the uncertainty of the footing. A slip to either side would generally mean serious consequences. The indications are that not very many people have ever made the last half of this trip.”
“lt begins to look like our digestive powers would be undertaxed, however, as it will probably take us till Friday night to reach the Pigeon River Gap which we counted on making by tonight. . . . Our suppers for the past three nights and for the future are consisting of a couple of handfulls of ground parched corn and a pint of water witha chocolate almond bar for dessert. We are both agreed that chocolate is a necessity on such trips as these. The blackberries have been a great help to us as afillerin.... They are also a preventive of thirst.”
Laurel thicket near Porter’s Gap.
“This stupendous mountain scenery has, nevertheless, repaid us for all our hard tramping and the memory of it will always be a source of pleasure to me. Itsa blessing that such a recollection stays with a man so much longer than the memory of rubbed feet and half rations.”
Looking east from Siler’s Bald over the Great Smoky Mountains.
Spring 1995 © Now & Then e 9 GE Sn 2
Putting the Push on Conservation
Every spring, employees of a law firm in Johnson City, Tenn., don jeans and head for the banks of the nearby Watauga River.
No, it isn’t a lawyers’ day out for the firm of Baker, Donelson, Bearman, and Caldwell. It’s an environ- mental clean-up, part of a local program called Carter County Clean Streams that is sponsored by the Elizabethton, Tenn.- based company, North American Rayon, and by Trout Unlimited.
“Our involvement,” explains Ed E. Williams III, the attorney who heads the law firm’s Environmental and Labor Practice section, “is that we have actually adopted a stretch of the Watauga River to Keep clean.”
To those who know Williams, it will come as no surprise that the attorney has made river clean-ups a part of his firm’s yearly routine. Something of a visionary, he’s been called by a reporter for North- east Tennessee’s Business Journal “one of the new players on the national envi- ronmental scene” — a man who touts the virtues of a pragmatic strain of conserva- tion.
A one-time Circuit Court judge for Washington, Unicoi, Johnson, and Carter counties, Williams is probably best known for his land preservation efforts. He serves as trustee for the Tennessee chapter of the Nature Conservancy, an organization dedicated to protecting Tennessee’s lands and waters.
Until recently, he was also a trustee for the National Park Foundation, a Con- gressionally chartered entity that raises funds to help support the national parks. Williams is also credited with helping de- sign Tennessee’s Scenic Parkways Sys- tem, which was part of the Safe Growth Plan created by former Tennessee gover- nor Lamar Alexander. The program was designed to formulate future state policy on environmental and conservation is- sues.
When MCA, the business that oper- ated the concessions at Yosemite Na- tional Park, was almost bought out in
10 ¢ Now & Then « Spring 1995
Baker, Donelson, Bearman, and Caldwell
by Jill Oxendine
You can’t get a cleaner, greener environment by battling the bad guys,
says a Johnson City attorney.
1990 by the Japanese company Matsushita, it was Williams who stepped in to negotiate a deal with MCA so that
ownership of the $100 million concession
business and historic Ahwahnee Hotel went to the National Park Foundation. Foundation president Alan A. Rubin
called Williams the leading catalyst of the
effort, noting: “Ed had the creativity to see what was possible early on and the determination to see it through.” Today, the attorney calls the MCA transaction simply “the Yosemite deal,” even though at $7 billion, it turned into the largest na- tional business transaction of 1990.
Wanted: Public/Private Partnerships
While some people might say Will- iams is driven by political ambition — he admitted he might one day run for gover- nor — he does have a deep reverence for Tennessee’s natural landscapes. His rule of not alienating industry is a means to an end. “We need to stop trying to find out who’s wearing the white hats and the black hats,” he says, “and work together.
“Tm a pragmatic environmental type,
Ed E. Williams III
not one of those calamity howlers.
I’m not one of those people who
chain themselves to a tree or bull-
dozer for the sake of an endan-
gered species. That’s not to say that I take lightly any of those people. And I certainly don’t take the Endangered Species Act lightly. But I view my role very differently: I set up partnerships with the private and corporate sectors to ac- complish conservation goals.”
Ironically, this conservationist lawyer is the son of a former Johnson City- Washington County industrial recruiter — someone responsible for luring numer- ous businesses and industries into North- east Tennessee. Although his father’s role probably helped shape some of Williams’ perspectives, the attorney claims his per- sonal observations as an outdoorsman and nature advocate have influenced him most.
“Both factors have made me aware that partnering with industry is a neces- sity,’ says Williams. “We can’t beat up industry. After all, we have to have public and private dollars to sustain our public land system.”
Open Spaces The Watauga River in Northeast Ten- nessee is the linchpin for the Open Spaces Conservancy. Founded by Williams, Open Spaces is a non-profit organization that seeks to link historic sites and greenways throughout Northeast Tennes- see. Incorporated in April 1992, the organization’s immediate goal is to cre- ate the Watauga River Corridor, a “linear corridor” connecting two major state his- torical sites, Fort Watauga/Sycamore Shoals in Elizabethton and Piney Flats’ Rocky Mount. A linear corridor, Will- iams explains, is a collection of historic sites and created greenbelts or environ- mentally protected areas along a desig- nated route.
In 1992, Williams attracted national attention for this local effort by inviting then U.S. Interior Secretary Manuel Lujan to go trout fishing on the Watauga.
Lujan didn’t get a catch that fall day, but he was impressed with the Open Spaces concept.
Lujan was so impressed, in fact, that he proclaimed it a model for the nation. It seems the idea dovetailed nicely with the Interior Department’s American Heritage Partner- ships, an initiative that gives National Park designations to areas that don’t ordinarily meet the criteria. Such areas, similar to the Watauga River Corridor, have unique historical, cultural, and natural resources that can be joined together.
Once established, smaller corridors, such as the one along the Watauga River, could then be connected to other sites and historic districts in the area. For example, Williams envisions a series of corridors stretching from Abingdon, Va., to Tusculum and Greeneville, Tenn., located some 70 miles to the south.
In addition, Williams also hopes that if Open Spaces develops as hoped, Johnson City’s Buffalo Mountain Ecological Park will one day join up with the Watauga River Corridor. The proposal of Buffalo Mountain Park back in the 1970s actually provided the inspiration for what was to become the Open Spaces Conservancy. Today the Johnson City park connects the city via a network of hiking trails and pic- nic areas to a large section of the Chero- kee National Forest, situated south of Johnson City.
“We have identified every historic site, every piece of land that’s owned by non- profit organizations, or by governments and governmental agencies at every level. What we want to look at is some way to link up those sites so that someone com- ing into Northeast Tennessee can have an experience akin to driving the Blue Ridge Parkway,” says Williams.
It has been documented that senior citizens are the biggest users of the Na- tional Park system. Williams’ Conser- vancy is striving to meet the needs of this constituency. With the help of the Nature Conservancy, Open Spaces has already acquired at least $20,000 in contributions and land donations, including 50 acres from General Shale Corporation. An ad- ditional 1,000 acres in donations are pending, and several other informal com- mitments are to be negotiated in the
Ed E. Williams III
en em re enn oan IS es ee!
a
Interior Secretary Manuel Lujan trout fishes on the Watauga River in 1992.
spring and summer of 1995.
“Eventually, what I’d like for the Watauga River and some of these linear connectors to be is a place for senior citi- zens to take one of the most beautiful drives in Tennessee. I’d like to take my mountain bike and go along a roadway or along a mountain bike trail. I’d like to put on my hiking boots and hike it or get in my canoe and float a river corridor. I’d like for all those outdoor activities to be possible.”
Now that Williams’ six-year stint with the National Park Foundation’s board of directors is over, he is likely to have more time for drumming up donors and sup- port.
Other Worries, Other Fears
But other problems besides basic land conservation worry Williams. He fears that the current shrinking and downsizing of the federal government could prove devastating to the National Park Service. Park employees are living in deplorable housing, he maintains, and better roads and sewer systems are needed. Politicians have focused for too long on crowd- pleasing projects, such as visitors’ centers and park expansions, and avoided facing tougher problems.
Just like the typical town, the Park Service has let housing, roads, and sewer systems deteriorate. “We’ve got park em- ployees,” he says, “who are living in houses that would be condemned by any city government anywhere in Tennessee. They’re living in World War II surplus barracks, in trailers. Families with chil- dren are living in trailers that are rat-in- fested. We’ ve ignored our national parks, our crown jewels, to create our warm
fuzzies.”
Williams also has opinions about industry’s responsibility for environmental problems. For a while now, he insists, in- dustry has gotten a bad rap by being blamed for all environ- mental woes. In his opinion, strict environmental laws have virtually ended environmental abuses by industry.
“T represent a lot of indus- tries on environmental compli- ance, and I’ve found that 99 percent of them are doing the right thing. It’s the one percent that make the headlines and give everyone a black eye.”
When Williams gives speeches, he of- ten uses the Watauga and Holston Rivers of Tennessee as cases in point to show that industrial development and conserva- tion can be compatible. Twenty years ago, environmental abuses by industries had rendered both of these rivers virtually sterile, with no aquatic life at all. Then Elizabethton’s industries, forced to com- ply with increasingly stringent environ- mental legislation, spent millions of dollars to control their discharges. The City of Elizabethton spent millions as well to upgrade its sewer treatment plant.
The result is the miracle that modern environmentalists pray for. Today, ac- cording to the Tennessee Wildlife Re- sources Agency, the Watauga River is one of the best trout fisheries in the East- ern United States.
On the other hand, the private house- hold and agricultural sectors are unmonitored and generally ignored, says Williams. “You'll find more stuff going through household drains and more use of improper pesticides in agriculture, than in practically all industries combined. We aren’t focusing on that. The environmen- tal problem,” he continues, “isn’t just an industry problem. It’s a problem every- where — in households, in schools, in apartment buildings, in retail space.”
Here again, Williams might be plying his visionary powers. Perhaps we should
all take a listen.
Jill Oxendine of Johnson City, Tenn., edits Storytelling Magazine and is a writer for The Tombras Group.
Spring 1995 ¢« Now & Then e 11
Beyond Tobacco/Beyond Coal
by Richard Cartwright Austin
There can be life beyond tobacco and coal, but planning
alternatives means finding new public and private
initiatives.
sean and coal, twin pillars of the Southern Appalachian economy, are both eroding. There is little new investment in the region’s coal in- dustry, while many of the large, older mines will close soon. Congress has tem- porarily thwarted the tobacco companies’ plans to substitute cheap foreign leaf for American tobacco, but the tobacco price supports that have provided livelihood for thousands of small farmers in this region are unlikely to survive into the next de- cade. When these pillars fall, the Appala- chian community — America’s home- grown Third World — will endure devas- tating blows. There are creative alterna- tives, but they require vision, political courage, and a willingness to invest in America.
First, tobacco.
Tobacco or Fresh Produce?
After 25 years of smoking and 10 of abstinence, I was delighted when my doc- tor told me, “You don’t need a chest X- ray. Your risk of lung cancer is back down with the general population.” The small tobacco allotment assigned to my farm by the government is leased to my neighbor. He raises the tobacco allotted to his own farm plus a few leases, enough to support his mother on the homestead his family has maintained for generations.
The distinctive allotment system is a hold-over from the Great Depression. Each farm where tobacco has been grown historically retains the right to grow a 12
° Now & Then « Spring 1995
limited quantity for an assured price. This system to control production and protect farmers’ income is paid for by the farm- ers themselves and costs the federal gov- ernment little. Because this system has changed little over 60 years, tobacco is the only major American crop still raised primarily on small farms — 127,000 of them in the Southeast. Consequently, small farms remain the predominant pat- tern of landholding in the tobacco region from Virginia and the Carolinas, west to Kentucky, Tennessee, and north Georgia.
The income from most allotments is
just a few thousand dollars, “Enough to
pay the taxes on the place anyhow,” my neighbors say. Yet because the sale price of tobacco is stabilized by a government purchase program, this income is depend- able. A little tobacco, some cattle, and fa- ther or mother working in the mine, factory, store, or school — these keep the old homeplace in the family.
The 2,500 pounds of tobacco raised on my farm’s allotment probably feeds the addictions of several hundred people, and some of them, less fortunate than I, will die from it. This is why those concerned for human health will prevail in their ef- forts to remove the government from the tobacco business. Ironically, ending the federal tobacco program will do nothing for human health. Cigarette companies will simply buy their tobacco more cheaply from large producers, both do- mestic and foreign. Terminating the to- bacco program will, however, collapse the economic underpinnings beneath tens
of thousands of small farms, accelerate the consolidation of farmland into fewer hands, and drive families from rural homesteads.
On my farm, we have begun to experiment with alternatives. We deliver raspberries to restaurants in small cities nearby, and we share peppers, range-fed chickens, and grass-fed beef with folks who have become members of the farm to obtain meats and produce grown in wholesome conditions without artificial chemicals. Most of the foods Americans enjoy can be grown in this region.
New Crops in Old Warehouses
The problem is marketing. Selling to supermarkets is cumbersome and unprof- itable for the small farmer because the chain stores want large volumes of highly standardized produce. Prices are uncer- tain. Independent processing plants for chickens exist no longer. The small farmer who departs from the crops tradi- tional to the area has to develop his or her own markets. Most farmers lack the time and resources to do this.
There could be a renaissance of small farming in our region if the federal gov- ernment phased in a marketing program for quality regional meats, fruits, and veg- etables, while phasing out tobacco. The government could offer assured prices for limited quantities of high-quality veg- etables, fruits, and meats, grown using sustainable practices that assure whole- someness while protecting soils and the environment, and the government could assist with the distribution of these items. Farmers could elect to raise several items, but the total protected crop on each farm would be capped at a fixed dollar amount.
Extra production could be sold without price protection.
The tobacco warehouses now found in every town could be replaced by farm markets, small facilities to prepare fresh meats and produce for consumers as well as canning and freezing facilities for sea- sonal surplus. All supported produce would be given distinctive regional labels and marketed to grocery outlets in nearby metropolitan areas. Soft, flavorful toma- toes and fruits ripened on the vine could be rushed to market through such a sys- tem, bringing better taste to the consumer and better prices to the farmer.
This system would require initial in- vestment of public capital and some sub- sidy for perhaps a decade until markets were well-established and farmers re- trained. Then, as with the present tobacco program, costs could be covered through fees paid by farmers at the point of sale. In return for such public investment, con- sumers would receive more wholesome food, and the small farm economy would be re- vived. There might even be room for more families on the land.
When I quit smoking, I first thought it would be virtuous to give up my tobacco allotment as well. However, I finally con- cluded that I would be walking away from my neighbors. We are all guilty of polluting the earth and poisoning one another until we pull together to de- mand a just system that protects farmers, consumers, and the land itself. It is time to reform American agriculture so farm- ing becomes an opportunity for those who choose it, while the rest of us enjoy wholesome, de- licious food grown by neigh- bors who take care of the good earth.
Coal: Beyond Distress
Now on to the problem of coal.
In Southwestern Virginia, the owners and managers of the large mines are warning the re- gion to prepare for life beyond coal. There is virtually no in-
Kenneth Murray
es
vestment in new mines. As seams acces- sible to existing mining facilities are ex- hausted, the operation is closed. A billion tons of coal are mined every year in the United States, more than ever before, but the economic benefits from this mining have been shrinking, while the polluting consequences intensify.
Because of underground mechaniza- tion, growing reliance upon surface min- ing, and the shift of production to thick Western seams, coal employment is less than a third of what it once was. Yet the spread of strip mining devours thousands of miles of land in Appalachia, the Mid- west, and the Northern Plains, while the toxic consequences of burning coal are becoming both socially and environmen- tally unacceptable. Acid rain damages buildings, lakes, and forests; other air- borne pollutants attack human health, while greenhouse warming threatens the stability of the world’s climate.
Fresh produce could provide an alternative to tobacco pro- duction, with short-term federal support for a marketing
program replacing tobacco subsidies.
Many of Appalachia’s most accessible coal seams have been exhausted by a cen- tury of mining, and it is unlikely that coal will ever again command the prices nec- essary to justify mining the more difficult reserves. Coal executives warn local com- munities to plan for the days when the mines must close.
Since 1959 when I first came to the Appalachian coal fields as a Presbyterian minister, I have seen hard times aplenty, but none more grim than the hardships now emerging. In a few of the oldest min- ing areas, such as nearby McDowell County, W. Va., the collapse of the coal economy is complete. Where 23,000 mined in 1948, only 1,500 remained at work in 1990, and the number continues to dwindle. More than half the population has fled the county since 1960, even though jobs are hard to find elsewhere. Only one-third of the working-aged popu- lation is actually employed; the rest are either unemployed (22 percent in 1990), full-time students, disabled, or out of the work force for lack of opportunity. Coal-dependent West Virginia ranks 47th among states in per capita income, and median in- come in McDowell County has fallen to $15,756, roughly two-thirds the West Virginia figure.
The mountain landscape has been tortured by mining. Mine acids in the streams mix with raw sewage, for only one town was left with any sewage treatment by departing compa- nies. Families haul water home from safe springs in plastic jugs, for many cannot drink the water from their taps, and some dare not even bathe in it.
In the words of sociologist Richard Couto, counties like McDowell have dropped “‘be- yond distress.” That is, condi- tions are far worse than government economic indices were designed to measure. Yet even from this nadir, creative leadership has emerged in many depleted McDowell towns. “I feel invigorated,” one woman told me. She and her neighbors were renovating
Spring 1995 ¢ Now & Then e 13
an abandoned school for a community center. “The coal companies aren’t here to hold us down. It’s a mess, but now it’s our mess.”
Homesteading Revisited
To provide a fresh start for the people of the Appalachian coal fields and their ravaged landscapes will require a quality of political leadership not often seen. We need two fundamental changes: land re- form and deep reclamation.
During modern history, Appalachia has experienced two great transitions in landholding patterns, and a third is re- quired to provide the basis for economic recovery. The first “land reform” took place as frontier settlers drove bands of Indian hunters from the hills and claimed private plots for subsistence farming. The second change came near the beginning of this century when land agents repre- senting railroads and coal speculators bought mineral rights for pennies an acre from mountaineers who had little sense of the value of the coal beneath their hills.
Today, 75 percent of the land in Appa- lachian coal field counties is owned by coal and land companies with headquar- ters in places like Pittsburgh, Philadel- phia, or London, England. The land is held for possible coal, gas, or timber de- velopment. Rarely will such companies sell land for local use. As mining de- clines, some land companies propose to develop giant landfills for urban garbage or toxic wastes on depleted coal lands. Citizens across Appalachia are resisting proposals to trash their counties with pol- luting wastes from urban America.
Systematic land reform is necessary to provide the basis for economic revival in the coal fields. Federal or state commis- sions should condemn corporately held lands that are not in production, paying the value that their owners have claimed for real estate tax purposes. The lands should then be opened for homesteading by families with productive, agricultural, residential, recreational, or reclamation intentions, after such families have been trained in the care of fragile, abused mountain lands.
The gradual reopening of Appalachian coal field lands to settlement and use by local families or by those who wish to re- turn to the mountains would stimulate a social and economic revival from the in- genuity of the people themselves. Hun-
14
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unproductive lands back into use, stimulating economic and social revival.
dreds of thousands of small enterprises — farms, craft workshops, stores, local manufacturers, and mountain tourist fa- cilities — would provide a more secure economic foundation than the marginal industries that mountain counties now try to lure away from high wage regions of the country. We don’t need to steal facto- ries from others. We need our land back.
Deep Reclamation
Deep reclamation is the second funda- mental requirement for rebuilding a ro- bust economy and a healthy society in the Appalachian coal fields. Toxic streams and unsafe water supplies, eroding strip- mined hillsides where timber struggles in vain to put down roots, these will frus- trate developmental efforts. For a century, Appalachian coal has fueled the modern- ization of America. Its low cost did not reflect the environmental degradation left unattended in these remote hills. It is the obligation of the larger society, now en- riched by our coal, to underwrite the clean-up necessary to restore healthy natural systems so the human community may rebuild.
Appalachian people have the skills re- quired for this reclamation: We can oper- ate bulldozers, plant trees, tend farmland, restore streams. When land is returned to the people and we receive compensation for the work of reclamation, this work
will be done well by those close to the land who have eyes to watch over it and hearts to love it. It will be deep reclama- tion.
Therefore, as part of a land reform and homesteading strategy, Appalachian lands should be appraised for their reclamation needs. The government should set recla- mation targets for each parcel and offer reasonable financial inducements to the homesteaders who undertake the work.
Coal and tobacco, the crumbling twin pillars of the Southern Appalachian economy, can plunge us “beyond dis- tress” when they fall. Alternatively, Ap- palachia can develop a new economy that offers opportunity to our people, reclaims our despoiled environment, and provides healthful products and services for other Americans to enjoy. The transition will require vision, political courage, and a willingness to invest in the places we
value.
These articles first appeared in the Roanoke Times, March 14-15, 1993.
Richard Cartwright Austin, a Presbyterian minister in Southwest Virginia, was a leader in the struggle for Federal regulation of strip mining in the 1970s.
Groundhogs
by Jim Minick
inherited my hate for groundhogs from Grandpa. He in-
stilled in me, while I was still young, his utter disgust of
those hairy varmints which live in holes. As I became a teenager, I took his hate as mine.
We both disliked the “hogs,” as we called them, because they ate our alfalfa, or if they were daring, they’d sneak into our gar- den and feast on our beans or cantaloupe or tomatoes. They were tricky animals in collusion with the devil. We hated them most, though, because of the placement of their holes. These “hogs” forever wanted to dig three or four holes in the middle of every one of our hayfields; they weren’t comfortable living on the edges.
This den-building in the center of fields created havoc when we worked there — like the time I was fifteen and we were bal- ing hay. Grandpa was driving the tractor pulling the baler and wagon while Uncle Harry and I rode and stacked the hay. Grandpa saw and avoided the groundhog holes with the tractor and baler, but the wagon hit a hole and threw Uncle Harry and me clear off the wagon. Grandpa just swore a long blue line at that groundhog, then spit his tobacco in the hole.
hen I was twelve and an expert with my BB gun, Grandpa gave me permission to use his .22s. I set up a target in the pasture, and he taught me how to load and shoot the .22 magnum, which had a scope. I hit the bull’s eye three out of five times, and Grandpa figured I could use the gun.
The next day, off I went to hunt groundhogs. I soon learned that there was more to hunting than shooting well. I learned the patience needed for sitting on a hill above a den and waiting an hour or more for the critters to emerge; or the stealth needed to slip through a cornfield and surprise the groundhogs who sunned themselves in the open hayfield; or the anger of missing the same groundhog three straight times, and the blood-tinged joy of finally finding my mark and dropping the dead wood- chuck back into his hole.
On a locust fence post next to the barn, Grandpa and I kept tallies for each summer, marking down who shot the most groundhogs. My record was eight and his, a dozen. But even killing twenty in one summer did not slow their spread into our fields. One summer when he got fed up with our losing battle, Grandpa recruited the help of smoke bombs. For the next two days, we drove from infested field to infested field. I covered all the holes but one with burlap sacks, and he lighted the smoke bomb and threw it down the remaining open hole, which I then covered with another sack. The smoke burned my eyes and
made us both cough, but we knew these were small sacrifices in our battle. A month later, after we hadn’t seen any ground- hogs, we declared our victory. The next summer, however, we saw fresh dirt around their holes and knew we’d never win.
his summer I have been relearning that I’1l never “beat”
these woodchucks. For eight years, I didn’t handle a
gun. In that time, I went off to college, then to work in other places, and I found that guns and killing went against the grain of my stock.
But this summer has changed that. We put in a large garden in an old plot surrounded by briars which grow over the garden fence. When the beans started sprouting, we discovered groundhogs with voracious appetites living under these briars. They regularly snack on tomatoes and beans and, in one week- end, have eaten five head of cabbage and eight head of broc- coli. Nothing escapes their toothy touch: birdhouse gourds,
A groundhog partakes of the local vegetation.
Spring 1995 e¢ Now & Then e 15
watermelons, even my prized cantaloupes. I had ten melons in various stages of growth, and a day later, before they were even ripe, I only had six.
To combat these varmints, I’ve tried just about everything. The only device that’s worked is Mom’s old pantyhose that I put over the melons — groundhogs don’t seem to like the taste of nylon. For the peas, beans, and tomatoes, I’ve put up chicken wire fence that they crawl under. I regularly yell ob- scenities from the back porch and piss around the garden bor- der — to no avail. Frustrated, I finally got my .22 from home, a Marlin open-sight Grandpa bought just before he died. It’s a good gun, but over these past eight years, I’ve become a bad shot, especially when I don’t have a scope to help. I’ve killed two groundhogs in the last three months and have missed more than I care to admit. The first one I killed was a youngster at point-blank range. He didn’t know to run from me. The second was full-grown and fat from eating our beans. For two weeks off and on, I shot at him from the back porch and missed sev- eral times. Finally I set up a target in the garden and practiced
The Cabin at Devil’s Fork
The old ones called it Devil’s Fork
Where furious water came From two directions
And the quiet miraculous pool
High in the laurel hell of Stone Mountain Was the Devil’s Bathtub
Ominous names undeserved
Perched high above its wild run off
We called our cabin
The Creekhouse
Piece by piece He built it himself
I watched listening
To the jarring counterpoint:
Pounding hammers, singing saws Roaring earthmovers
Would rest and reveal
The birdsong, bee buzz
Cricket click crescendo
When evening falls
we sit without talking
16 ¢ Now & Then
e Spring 1995
shooting across the sixty feet of pasture. I figured out the sights and killed the groundhog the next day.
But there are still two old warriors who somehow always know when we’re not home. Or when I am home and shooting, they know I’m not a good shot.
ext spring, I plan to put up a better fence and bury the N bottom six inches. If Grandpa were still alive, he’d
say I should forget the fence and just shoot the damn
things. But Grandpa’s dead, and I don’t really like killing any-
more.
Jim Minick teaches at Radford University where he is also director of the Appalachian Teachers’ Network. This spring, he and his wife are planting an acre of blueberries. All are invited to come pick — except the groundhogs.
The colors bleed and fade To black and quiet
Each weekend we do this bring our silence
to join this choir
The Creekhouse
A retreat before defeat
A hideaway from all We've worked for
Where creation runs ragged Overgrown, overblown
Out of its lines
Adam and Eve we are not Both of us have sinned
And sinned and this garden Is full of snakes
With no knowledge
— Rita Quillen Among her many activities, poet Rita Quillen serves on Now & Then’s advisory board. This poem will be in-
cluded in a forthcoming collection from Sow’s Ear Press entitled Counting the Sums.
Birth of a Citizen Coalition West Virginia’s Environmental Council
hen it comes to environmental protection, Appalachia in gen- eral — and West Virginia in
particular — are not generally regarded as cutting edge. In fact books such as Harry Caudill’s 1962 Night Comes to the Cumberlands speak to the region’s long history of exploiting its natural and hu- man resources. How then did it come to be that a National Governor’s Association bulletin was able to report: “The [1991] West Virginia Ground Water Protection Act is one of the strongest state ground- water protection measures yet enacted”?
The main reason West Virginia has produced such strong environmental leg- islation can be traced to a group of citi- zens who organized into a powerful political force, the West Virginia Envi- ronmental Council (WVEC). As a mem- ber of the WVEC board since its christening at a meeting held in a Morgantown Hardees in late 1989, I have watched the WVEC develop into the cen- tral voice of the environmental movement in this Appalachian state.
The youngest of 40-some state envi- ronmental coalitions, the WVEC is one of the broadest-based of them all. Composed of national, statewide, and local groups, it includes a very eclectic mix of people, from housewives to professors to lawyers to farmers. In contrast to other more is- sue-oriented coalitions, the WVEC is unique in its involvement in virtually all the major environmental issues facing West Virginia.
By the late 1980s, citizens groups were forming all over West Virginia, groups such as the Friends of the Little Kanawha (FOLK); People Concerned with MIC (methyl isocyanate of Bhopal fame); the Team Effort Against Ruining Southern West Virginia (TEARS WV), and Mon Organization for a Viable Environment (MOVE). Such groups usually formed in response to a local environmental issue, such as a mega-landfill pro- posal, a strip mine expansion, chemi- cal plant emissions, or some other
eat) i ee. |
perceived threat to a community’s quality of life.
Meanwhile, environmental issues had moved into the forefront of the nation’s agenda. Statewide and national groups, groups like the Sierra Club, West Vir- ginia Highlands Conservancy, and Trout Unlimited, had established a presence in West Virginia. These groups deal with a host of issues, from the local to the na- tional level. Because these groups tend to be around for the long haul, they often provide underlying support for many lo- cal initiatives.
All told, six main ingredients went into the development of the WVEC. The first essential ingredient was citizen volun- teers, and West Virginia had hundreds of them in organizations scattered across the state. About a dozen West Virginia envi- ronmental leaders saw the need and the opportunity to create a formal coalition among the numerous citizen groups. We felt that by developing an efficient com- munication network, we could greatly ex- pand our influence and harness the energy of the thousands of West Virginia citizens concerned about environmental matters. We believed that we could make environ- mental protection a statewide priority.
The Groundwater Coalition At a 1987 conference held at West Virginia University in Morgantown, 150
attendees heard experts describe the na- ture of the various threats to the state’s groundwater quality. Groundwater is found below the water table and serves as a source of both well water and stream water. Over 50 percent of West Virginia’s population, and over 90 percent of its ru- ral population, depend directly on groundwater for their drinking water. The quality of West Virginia’s groundwater was being threatened by pollution from
by Mary J. Wimmer
numerous human activities, such as coal mining, natural gas extraction, waste dis- posal, agricultural use of chemicals, and the operation of septic tanks.
The Environmental Defense Fund (EDF), a New York-based national orga- nization that makes use of market forces and the courts to address environmental issues, had recently set up an office in Charleston. In 1989, EDF received a grant from the Virginia Environmental Endowment (VEE), a private foundation based in Richmond, Va.
One of VEE’s goals is to improve wa- ter quality in the Kanawha and Ohio River Valleys. The grant was to help EDF organize a West Virginia Groundwater Coalition to provide a political block strong enough to pass a good groundwa- ter protection act, an act considered criti- cal to the future of this relatively pure West Virginia resource. In 1990, when EDF closed its West Virginia office, the Endowment funded the West Virginia Citizen Action Group (WV CAG), a Charleston-based organization that works on issues related to health care, govern- ment ethics, and the environment. WV CAG was to finish the job that EDF had started.
What the VEE didn’t realize at the time was that these grants also planted the seeds for what was to become the WVEC. WV CAG ultimately hired a full-time en- vironmental coordinator, a former coal operator named Norm Steenstra, to do the coalition’s organizing work. Today, Steenstra is still the environmental coor- dinator for WV CAG as well as a WVEC board member and its chief lobbyist.
Hiring Steenstra moved us away from being a solely volunteer work force and provided the fledgling organization with a person who had the time, as well as the energy, political savvy, love of media,
and dedication to make this Coalition succeed. Having a paid staff person was the second key ingredient in what even- tually evolved into the highly effective WVEC.
e Now & Then e 17
Spring 1995
Being able to lay claim to office space was the third ingredient that moved the Coalition forward. The Groundwater Coalition was based in WV CAG’s office in Charleston. Located a few minutes from the state capitol, CAG became the main contact point and meeting place for those from all around the state who came to Charleston to lobby for environmental legislation. Staff members and volunteers could take phone messages, hold meet- ings, activate phone trees, have access to a computer and a Xerox, and, last but cer- tainly not least, enjoy the luxury of hav- ing a place to change into comfortable clothes from more formal lobbying attire. Many of us found the CAG office a safe and comforting place after a day sur- rounded by industry lobbyists.
The fourth crucial ingredient was our newsletter. What began as the Ground- water Coalition Newsletter became GREEN, the Grass Roots Environmental Effort Newsletter of the WVEC. GREEN’’s first editor, Sheila McEntee of the National Audubon Society, put it out at the end of every week of the legisla- tive session — a feat begun by Steenstra and Joyce Cooper of WV CAG during the early Groundwater Coalition days. It usually came out monthly when the leg- islature was in recess. This report kept hundreds of people throughout the state up-to-date on environmental activities. It went to anyone who asked for it, free if need be.
Activists had fun reading GREEN. It was freewheeling environmentalism at its best, giving volunteers a fine plat- form for their issues. Not only was leg- islative action discussed, but also anything that dealt with the environment could find its way into GREEN’s pages — from cartoons to profiles of WVEC members. Its reporting of environmental groups’ activities around the state always confirmed the strength of the movement, and Steenstra’s tongue-in-cheek humor could uplift any tired volunteer (as well as irritate a politician now and then).
Outgrowing a Name
It didn’t take long for Steenstra to real- ize that groundwater protection was only one of the many issues facing West Vir- ginia. People began coming out of the woodwork to beat him over the head about their particular concerns: from mine reclamation and acid mine drainage
to medical and hazardous waste incinera- tors to land use and public lands. To pro- tect Norm’s precious head, the Coalition newsletter began covering these and other key topics.
Solid waste became a major rallying issue. Norm Steenstra dubbed this par- ticular group of activists “The Garbage Crazies.” They were led by Martha Huffman of the Wetzel County group Halt Out-of-State Garbage (HOG). She was called the “Housewife from Hell” in a July 1991 Family Circle article on women who have made a difference.
Developers had proposed importing thousands of tons of municipal waste per day from out-of-state metropolitan areas
From 1988 to 1991, with pressure from the Coalition, the West Virginia Legislature passed some of the most progressive and comprehensive legislation on rural solid waste management in the
nation.
and depositing it in huge landfills in West Virginia’s rural mountains. Affiliated with large corporations, the developers generally lived out-of-state as well (Penn- sylvania, Maryland, and the Netherlands). They were drawn to West Virginia by the availability of lots of cheap land.
Since rural West Virginia had no ef- fective land use planning in place, its citi- zens did not have a say in land use decisions. The outside firms usually tar- geted economically depressed areas, such as McDowell or Berkeley counties, and promised them jobs. The two largest pro- posed landfills would each ultimately take in 3.6 million tons of garbage annu- ally, together more than five times that generated by the entire state.
18 ° Now & Then « Spring 1995
Soon people from all over the state were committed to stopping West Vir- ginia from becoming the dumping capital of the East. Monstrous landfills for out- of-state waste would generate huge prof- its for the dump owners. Meanwhile, landfill leachate would threaten the qual- ity of the state’s ground and surface wa- ters. West Virginia’s mountain topography would be destroyed as its val- leys and streams were filled. Its roads, which were not designed for huge haul trucks, would rapidly deteriorate. Finally, these massive landfills would promote a very common “out-of-sight and out-of- mind” mentality, undermining efforts at recycling, biodegradation, and conserva- tion so badly needed nationwide.
Activists also realized that West Virginia’s own solid waste, amounting to approximately 120,000 tons per month at the time, needed to be dealt with more ef- fectively. We needed to stop the waste from either ending up in unlined landfills or in roadside/riverside dumps. Recogniz- ing the connection with groundwater pro- tection, the solid waste groups naturally joined, first the Groundwater Coalition and later the WVEC. They became a great source of citizen influence in the state legislature.
From 1988 to 1991, with pressure from the Coalition, the West Virginia Legislature passed some of the most pro- gressive and comprehensive legislation on rural solid waste management in the nation. Tom Degen of Chloe, W. Va., be- came WVEC’s expert on solid waste bills. Two of the most important pieces of legislation passed were the 1990 Solid Waste Referendum and the 1991 Com- prehensive Solid Waste Acts.
The 1990 Solid Waste Referendum Act gave citizens the right to petition for a referendum in which they could vote on whether to approve construction in their county of a “Class A” landfill, one that
accepts 10,000 or more tons of waste per month. The first referendum, made pos- sible by the Barbour County Concerned Citizens aided by WVEC, halted a large landfill. When this developer went into nearby Webster County, Doyle Coakley, a local farmer, gathered his neighbors (and the signs used in Barbour County)
and quickly drove him out. These victo- ries were important examples of new lo- cal empowerment against out-of-state exploitation.
Environmental activists crowd the West Virginia Capitol rotunda at the first
WVEC
E-Day Celebration at the West Virginia State Legislature, January 1990.
Governor Gaston Caperton actually called a Special Session of the State Leg- islature in 1991 to pass the West Virginia Comprehensive Solid Waste Act. Among other things, this law reduced what could legally be placed in landfills (no yard waste, tires, batteries). It increased recy- cling provisions, and, critical to address- ing the problem of mega-landfills for out-of-state waste, it placed a cap on landfill size of 30,000 tons per month.
This limit did what a McDowell County referendum narrowly missed ac- complishing: It drove out the Philadel- phia, Pa., developer proposing a huge landfill there. Since passage of this legis- lation, there has been over a 15 percent reduction in the amount of local waste that has been deposited in West Virginia landfills.
Back to the Tale
Let’s see. So far, we have lots of vol- unteers, Norm Steenstra and staff, the CAG office, and GREEN. The last two ingredients were Environment Day (E- Day) in the legislature and the Annual Environmental Convention.
The first E-Day was on January 22, 1990. During this landmark event, over 600 people from around the state came to the Capitol to declare the 1990s as the ‘Decade of the Environment” in West Virginia. The diversity of groups, from Mountaineers for a Clean Environment to the new Vandalia Chapter of the State
Audubon Council, showed in the numer- ous display tables overflowing with envi- ronmental propaganda and t-shirts. Speakers Lois Gibbs, who became an ac- tivist when she discovered that her Love Canal, N. Y., home had been built atop a toxic waste dump, and Brock Evans, a Washington lobbyist for the National Audubon Society, highlighted the day. Evans and I gave formal presentations on the condition of our state and federal en- vironmental protection programs to the House of Delegates.
Constituents bombarded their legisla- tors with environmental concerns. The events were covered by the statewide me- dia, thanks largely to reporter Monty Fowler of the Huntington (W.Va.) Dis- patch. This first E-Day’s great success solidified WVEC’s course.
The first Annual Environmental Con- vention was put together in September, 1989, at the Cedar Lakes Conference Center near Ripley, in the western part of the state. Open to everyone, the meeting’s main purpose was to assemble the state’s environmental advocates and put together the following year’s legislative and nonlegislative agendas.
The opening session, dubbed “We all live on a dot,” allowed us to share person- ally why we were there. This gathering, more than any other of the weekend, made me aware of how powerful we could be. The remaining sessions con- sisted of brainstorming and consensus-
building among the more than 100 attend- ees, with no formal voting. It worked great. All participants had a chance to contribute to the final product, Blueprint for the Environment, edited by Brian Hagenbuch. With its detailed descriptions of each issue, this booklet was a great aid in educating activists. Also out of this meeting came a working group charged with developing bylaws for a more for- mal, broad-based coalition that, by year’s end, had been named the West Virginia Environmental Council.
Over 300 people attended the 1990 Convention at Jackson’s Mill near Weston. The Saturday morning Dot ses- sion, as these key sessions came to be known, lasted for hours. The daunting task of reaching consensus was accom- plished first by breaking into small groups, each focused on a specific issue, then by regrouping.
WVEC: Nuts & Bolts
Planners of WVEC decided early on not to make the Coalition a typical mem- bership organization. Most activists were already committed to a particular group, and we wanted their energy augmented, not diminished in any way. Also, we did not want the Council bogged down in or- ganizational paperwork. The WVEC has just enough of a structure to solidify the statewide coalition, but it grants a great deal of autonomy to the constituent indi- viduals and groups who “join” simply by being put on the mailing list and showing up for Council actions. Sierra Club’s Jim Kotcon helped us construct a set of by- laws consistent with this open-policy goal. By and large, this important concept has served us well. In August 1991, WVEC was incorporated as a state non- profit organization
Our structure is based on geography, not member groups. I believe this has worked to our advantage by minimizing the turf battles often typical of other envi- ronmental coalitions. We divided the state into eight regions; within each region, ac- tivists select three local representatives for three-year terms that rotate in order to provide continuity. These 24 people, along with three at-large members and the recent addition of three organizational members from issue-based state coali- tions, such as the West Virginia Rivers Coalition, make up the 30-member Board of Directors. We operate by consensus.
Spring 1995 ¢ Now & Then ¢ 19
ee ee Seer ee ee ee
Even with a large board, it works.
The office of Council president is a key position. The president, currently computer consultant Beth Little of Hills- boro, facilitates our almost quarterly meetings and keeps the WVEC calendar of events on track. Acting as a WVEC spokesperson is often a minor part of the job. Due to the member groups’ auton- omy, individuals are careful about what is said on behalf of the whole Council.
Past presidents Perry McDaniel, a Charleston lawyer, and Kim Baker, a Huntington environmental organizer, not only got the WVEC off to a good start, but they also dealt well with our initial growing pains. Most have been minor. Some of these, not surprisingly, involved personality clashes and turf conflicts. I believe that the latter were inevitable as we tried to fashion an umbrella group without infringing on the roles that the in- dividual groups had traditionally played.
When a person or group is committed to a cause, the necessary funds somehow appear. What I have found amazing is how little money it really takes to make a big impact, especially when you consider the comparatively huge sums of money industry spends to counter our efforts. WVEC operates on an annual budget of under $10,000.
After the VEE grants got us off to a good start, WVEC scraped for funds from member organizations and individuals. In addition, we took advantage of WV CAG’s subsequent grants and generosity in terms of staff support, office space, and copying equipment, and we made it work. West Virginia’s mainstream environmen- tal organizations provide most of the funds: WV Highlands Conservancy, Si- erra Club, Trout Unlimited, Audubon Council, WV Rivers Coalition, and the Ohio Valley Environmental Coalition (OVEC). These funds, along with the free housing provided by Charleston environ- mentalists, give citizens who might not otherwise have the means the opportunity to devote significant hours on the legisla- tive front. In addition to the funding, many individuals donate lots of volunteer time.
Education
One of the most important things WVEC is able to do is educate volunteers and staff on key issues by calling on ac- tivists who have specific areas of exper- 20
¢ Now & Then «¢ Spring 1995
© = =
Members of the 1991 WVEC lobby team celebrate their successes, includ- ing passage of the West Virginia Groundwater Protection Act. Top to bottom and left to right: Martha Huffman, Tom Degen, Courtney Mor- row, Wendy Ratcliff, Cindy Rank, Sheila McEntee, Mary Wimmer, Gary Zuckett, Tamara Schulman, Missy Wolverton, Norm Steenstra.
tise. For example, for a question on incin- eration, we went to Missy Wolverton, a feisty woman who moved to Charleston from Calhoun County and became a criti- cal part of our lobbying team. For a min- ing question, we started with Cindy Rank of Rock Cave or Tom Rodd of Morgantown; for air toxics, we had Brian Hagenbuch of Huntington. As the West Virginia University scientists in the group, Jim Kotcon and I, tagged the “technicrats,”’ were called upon to give scientific or technical interpretations, as well as to help draft and review lots of legislative bills. And of course, if we ever needed the proverbial “sound bite,” we went to Norm Steenstra.
Everyone gave legislative testimony. We became competent at quickly plan- ning finely orchestrated presentations that analyzed the issue in question, conveyed broad public concern, and more than bal- anced the opponents’ efforts. Phone lines were always burning as our folks in Charleston reached out to our regional contacts with the latest news and needs.
The Groundwater Bandwagon Initially, WVEC’s main legislative goal was passage of a bill that would ef- fectively protect West Virginia’s ground- water. The main push, begun with the VEE Groundwater Coalition grant, cul- minated in 1991 with the passage of the West Virginia Groundwater Protection Act. The whole process took just over three years — not long for such a com- prehensive piece of legislation. During both the 1989 and 1990 legis- lative sessions, we attempted to get our own progressive bill passed with the help of House Speaker Chuck Chambers, a Democrat from Huntington who signed on as sponsor. The bill’s main feature was the “non-degradation” clause. This clause stipulated that West Virginia’s ex- isting groundwater quality would be maintained, even if that quality actually surpassed what was necessary to provide safe drinking water. In contrast, industry wanted to allow groundwater pollution as long as the level of pollutants met stan- dards that supposedly protect beneficial uses.
Another key part of our bill was a citi- zen suit provision which would allow a person to sue another for polluting groundwater, a provision that industry
could not abide. The opposing forces — primarily coal, natural gas, chemical, and agricultural businesses and their trade groups — beat our legislation back re- peatedly, but we kept making slow progress.
With minutes to go in the 1990 ses- sion, some quick changes were made in a conference bill, with the governor’s office working with industry-backed legislators in our absence to fashion a law acceptable to them, and our key provisions of non- degradation and citizen suit were left out. WVEC members signaled Representative Chambers to kill the bill just before the bell ending the session went off.
We felt tired and beaten, for we had come so close. I recall an administrative assistant who typed bills for the House looking me in the eye and gently saying, “Tm sorry.” Delegate Mary Pearl Comp- ton, a Democrat from Monroe County whose district is the home of Quibell’s groundwater source, brought out a won- derful bottle of raspberry-flavored spar- kling water to comfort us — and to remind us of what was still at stake.
2Z7News CAST
Newsletter of the Center for Appalachian Studies and Services
¢« East Tennessee State University
Spring-Summer 1995
Ne. INSIDE: vine Se Mt. Mitchell Hiking Diary Published, p. 3 Archives & IPCIS OS Annual Art Show Set At Reece, p. 6 A Omnon of Sherrod Library
CENTER PLANNING BEGINS FOR APPALACHIAN ENCYCLOPEDIA
Co-editing the volume with Speer will be Rudy Abramson, Washington, D. C. correspondent for the Los Angeles Times, a long-time believer in the need for such a project. Abramson has enlisted the interest of former Tennessee Senator Howard H. Baker Jr., | historian David McCullough, the Appalachian Re- gional Commission, and other influential sponsors. During a recent visit to the center, Abramson said "An authoritative reference book devoted to Appalachia will help stimulate scholarship and enhance public
Current reference works about Appalachia are scarce, and few are comprehensive in their approach to the region. To answer that need, the center announces plans to edit and publish an Encyclopedia of Appala- chia that will address topics, events, and individuals significant in Appalachian history.
The encyclopedia will be a multidisciplinary work that will take several years to complete. Center director Dr. Jean Speer says, "We're excited by the prospect of making this contribution to our region. It represents an
enormous investment of time and funds for us, but we already have enthusiastic expressions of support from friends and colleagues of the center.”
awareness and understanding of the region." While visiting ETSU, Abramson met center staff, members of the university administration, and various friends of
the center. Abramson has covered Washington, D. C. for the Los Angeles Times for more than 25 years as national
continued on page 11
SHELBRIDGE ROOM HONORS HERITAGE
To help commemorate our 10th anniversary, the Center for Appalachian Studies and Services established an Appalachian Heritage Room in Shelbridge, the historic home provided for presidents of East Tennessee State University. The room, which serves as a guest room in the home, is decorated with the finest in antique and contemporary art and craft work from the Appala- chian region.
Contributions for the room came from many places
Photo by: Jim Sledge, University Relations, 1995
continued on page 2
Appalachia project.
)
Now & Then Seeks Contributors For Upcoming Issues
Now & Then, the Appalachian magazine published by the Center for Appalachian Studies and Services at ETSU, is accepting fiction, poetry, essays, interviews, non-fiction articles, and photography about Appala-
chian life for the next two issues.
The deadline for the Fall-Winter issue on Appala- chian Entrepreneurs and Innovators is July 1. This theme is a broad one. We're open to any submissions that answer the question: "What new ideas and approaches to old problems are coming out of Appala- chia?" We'd like to hear about people starting new, imaginative businesses or coming up with exciting
Heritage, continued from page I
in the mountain region, including Kentucky, Southwest Virginia, Western North Carolina, and East Tennessee. The room features such items as a Star of Kentucky quilt, an 1890s vintage crazy quilt, a variety of other
"Handicrafts are an integral part of the culture of the mountain people.”
—Allen Eaton, Handicrafts of the Southern Highlands (1937)
quilts and quilted pieces, handmade Windsor chairs, original oil and watercolor paintings, antique clothing, ceramics, woodcarvings, a cherry corner cupboard, an antique rope bed, and books about the Appalachian region. The craft artists and the donors are identified for visitors to the room.
The staff developed the idea for the room from a “Mountain Room” in the White House during the term of Woodrow Wilson. The White House room was furnished in the best of mountain craft work from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Believing that fine art and craft work are among Appalachia’s great gifts to the world, the center celebrates that tradition in this special room.
The center acknowledges the enthusiastic support received for this project from the following individuals and organizations: Dr. Roy Nicks, president of ETSU, and Ann Nicks; David Appalachian Crafts of David, Ky., especially director Julie Johnson; Susan Campbell, owner of The Mountain Heritage Collection in Knoxville, Tenn.; Dr. Murray Scher; the Bristol Art Guild, especially artist Susan Updyke; Grace Spurrell; quilter Wynne Stewart; painter Nancy Earnest; the Historical Society of Washington County, Inc.; Louise Palmer; quilter Hazel Speer; chairmaker Curtis Buchanan
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solutions to problems in any walk of life.
The Spring 1996 issue will be Conserving Appala- chia, with a deadline of November 1, 1995. This will be an opportunity to talk about the task of preserving this region's unique way of life— for example, by document- ing Appalachian culture for future generations, by keeping some aspect of Appalachian life alive, or by adapting some custom from the past to present needs.
For more information, or to obtain writer's guide- lines, please write Now & Then, CASS/ETSU, Box 70556, Johnson City, TN 37614-0556. We very much appreciate written, rather than phone queries.
of Jonesborough, Tenn.; Kathleen Curtis Wilson; William Baylor Adams, Cedar Bluff, Va.; Fred H. Combs, Tazewell, Va.
All items are on loan or are gifts to the Reece Museum, a division of the center. We still welcome contributions, either antique or craft items, or financial sponsorship of items in the room to make them permanent acquisitions for the museum.
If you would like to see the room, would like more information, or would like to make a donation, please contact the center.
DANCE BOOK PUBLISHED
Communities in Motion: Dance, Community and Tradition in America’s Southeast and Beyond (280 pp.., $59.95) has been published by Greenwood Press. It is a collection of essays and interviews on vernacular dance; its co-editors are center assistant director Jane Harris Woodside and former center fellow, Susan Eike Spalding. For ordering information, write CASS/ETSU, Box 70556, Johnson City TN 37614-0556 or call 615-929- 5348.
CENTER STAFF
Dr. Jean Haskell Speer, Director
Jane Harris Woodside, Asst. Director & Editor, Now & Then
Charles Moore, Coordinator
Penelope Lane, Technical Clerk
Nancy Fischman, Asst. Editor, Now & Then
Frieda Souder, Secretary
Archives & Special Collections
Archives of Appalachia Special Collections University Archives
Poe eae
Beeson and Mathes with group of men at weather station on top of Mt. Mitchell, 1915.
rchives & Special Collections, E TS U -
Sr. Papers,
_D.R. Beeson,
Series Planned For Beeson Diaries
With the success of the recent publication of the D. R. Beeson, Sr. hiking diary, In the Spirit of Adventure: A Hike in the Great Smoky Mountains (noted in the last issue of NewsCASS), Panther Press has decided to publish all four hiking diaries housed in the Beeson Papers in the archives as a series titled, In the Spirit of Adventure.
In addition to the Great Smoky Mountain diary (1914) published this past December, the series will include the publication of North Carolina hikes taken by Beeson with ETSU educator and author C. Hodge Mathes to Grandfather Mountain (1913), Table Rock (1914), and to Mt. Mitchell (1915). These volumes will be published during 1995-96 with proceeds from royalties going to support Archives and Special Collections. The Mt. Mitchell diary is being published this spring, to be followed by the Grandfather Mountain diary this fall and the Table Rock diary early in 1996.
The diaries are being edited by Norma Myers and Ned Irwin of the archives in conjunction with Charles Maynard of Panther Press. Individual volumes will contain a transcript of the diary text, reproductions of photographs taken on the hikes and included in Beeson's diaries, maps, a biographical sketch of Beeson and Mathes, glossaries, and other introduc- tory materials.
On the Mt. Mitchell hike, taken in May of 1915, Beeson and Mathes encounter descendants of Big Tom Wilson, and are led by Dolph Wilson to the site where his father, Big Tom, discovered the body of Dr. Elisha Mitchell (1793-1857), who had fallen to his death on the mountain later to bear his name.
: continued on page 5
Collection Spotlight: PHOTOGRAPHING APPALACHIA
The department is fortunate to have a number of collections which photographically document the history and culture of the Southern Mountain region. Some collections focus on customs, ways of life and the people of the region, while others center on buildings and landscapes.
East Tennessee is the subject of a number of collections, foremost among them the Sing Along With Appalachia, the Clifford Maxwell Photographs and the Burr Harrison Photographs. Sing Along With Appalachia contains both negatives and prints of life during the mid to late 1930s in the area now encompassed by the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Photos depict such activities as making lye
continued on page 5
Spring-Summer 1995 News CASS 3
ee ee ee ees |
Archives and
Selected Recent Acquisitions
EDWIN C. ALEXANDER COLLECTION
1904-52 and undated. .5 linear ft.
Consists of copies of newsclippings and scrapbook items on Crawford Alexander and his role in Elizabethton, Tenn. city government, including the bringing of the rayon plants to the city. In addition, there is correspondence and legal documents concerning Alexander and his father, J. H. Alexander. Donated by Edwin C. Alexander, Elizabethton, Tenn.
APPALACHIAN-SCOTTISH STUDIES COLLECTION
1991-94. .75 linear ft. Additions.
Consists of 1991 schedule of lectures and events; Ian Fraser’s lecture notes on the settlement and geography of Scotland; two oversized maps of Scotland; an audio cassette of Gaelic songs; audio and video recordings of 1993 and 1994 lectures, interviews, and performances; student research papers done for the 1994 program; an audio cassette recording of Gaelic songs recorded by Donald Archie MacDonald with lyrics to the songs. Donated by Thomas Burton, Department of English, ETSU.
HIRAM FAIN DIARY
1850-70. 1 item.
Consists of a photocopy of the original diary kept by Hiram Fain. Original in the possession of the East Tennessee Historical Society, Knoxville, Tenn. Donated by John Fain, Memphis, Tenn.
CHARLES GUNTER, JR. COLLECTION
1994. Addition.
Consists of nine audio cassette recordings of interviews with area residents conducted for Gunter's oral folklife project. Interviews focus on life in Appalachia during the "Great Depression” of the 1930s. Donated by Charles Gunter, Jr., Dept. of Geography and Geology, ETSU.
JOSEPH S. HALL PAPERS
1931-88. 7 linear ft. Addition.
Consists of audiotape recordings of interviews and music (1937-c. 1969) taped by Hall, miscellaneous audiotapes, 16mm and 8mm film recordings, and audiodiscs. In addition, two linear feet of paper records contain field notes, indexes and informant lists, ballads, and Smoky Mountain lore, as well as books and journals (1931-88). Donated by Michael Montgomery, University of South Carolina, Columbia, S.C.
4 New CASS Spring-Summer 1995
HARRIS-WOFFORD FAMILY HISTORY
1990-92. .25 linear ft.
Consists of a photocopy of a narrative on the history of the Harris and Wofford families written by Charles Wofford. Donated by Charles Wofford, Johnson City, Tenn.
LEE R. HERNDON COLLECTION
1958-78. 1,100slides.
Consists of 1,100 color slides of birds and flora of East Tennessee, Florida, and Texas taken by Lee R. Herndon. Donated by Lee R. Herndon, Elizabethton, Tenn.
ABRAHAM JOBE AUTOBIOGRAPHY
1850-70. 4 folders.
Consists of a photocopy of the autobiography of Abraham Jobe. Original in the Tennessee State Library and Archives, Nashville, Tenn. Donated by Mildred Kozsuch, Jonesborough, Tenn.
MAXINE KENNY COLLECTION
1977-87. 3.5 linear ft.
Consists of materials on environmental issues in Appalachia, including clippings, interview transcripts for public radio programs, and audio cassette recordings of interviews taken for "A Time to Reap” and "Down to Earth: the Appalachian Family Farm." Donated by Maxine Kenny, Nickelsville, Va.
B. CARROLL REECE MUSEUM RECORDS
1981-94. 10 linear ft. Additions.
Consists of office files of the museum, including material on grants, meetings, scholarships, exhibits, museum- sponsored activities, museum management, regional and state organizations for Tennessee artists, financial records (1987-91), files of the Aesthetics and Heritage Committee (1986-94), and personnel records (1982-91). Donated by Margaret Carr and Blair White, Reece Museum, ETSU.
ARCHIVES STAFF
Norma Myers, Director
Marie Tedesco, Technical Services Archivist Ned Irwin, Public Services Archivist
Ed Speer, Library Assistant
Georgia Greer, Secretary
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Special Collections
WAYNE SCOTT RIAL COLLECTION
1987-94. .5 linear ft.
Consists of materials on gospel singing in southern Appalachia, including a report written by Rial and a series of index cards containing announcements of gospel sings in the region, 1987-94. Donated by Wayne Scott Rial, Bristol, Tenn.
SOUTHERN APPALACHIAN HIGHLANDS CONSERVANCY COLLECTION
1980-93. .5 linear ft.
Consists of materials on Roan Mountain (N.C.-Tenn.) and Yellow Mountain (N.C.), including reports, a case statement booklet, a computer disc and printout on the flora and fauna on Roan Mountain, and three reports on the flora and fauna on Yellow Mountain. Donated by Jerry Nagle, Dept. of Biological Sciences, ETSU.
UNIVERSITY RELATIONS RECORDS
1949-79. 19 items. Addition.
Consists of 19 reels of 16mm film related to East Tennes- see State University, primarily to ETSU football games, including Burley Bowls in 1949, 1952-53, the 1969 Grantland Rice Bowl, and a 1979 game with James Madison University. Transferred from B. Carroll Reece Museum, ETSU.
W. B. "PAT" WATSON COLLECTION
1920-85. 1 linear ft. and 5 oversize folders.
Consists of road maps of Tennessee, Johnson City, Knoxville, and Chattanooga; photographs (including post cards) of Johnson City, Tenn. and the area; newspapers from Johnson City, Maryville, Bristol, and Knoxville, Tenn.; memorabilia on Johnson City, Tenn.; pamphlets, brochures, and clippings on Johnson City, Tenn. Donated by Herstyne Watson, Gadsden, Ala.
WCYB-TV COLLECTION
1994, litem.
Consists of one VHS format videotape recording entitled “Bristol: The Birthplace of Country Music.” Donated by Greg Wallace, WCYB-TV, Bristol, Va. ¢
Beeson, continued from page 3
As in the earlier diary published, the account of the trip is filled with Beeson's dry and subtle wit, along with insights into what was involved in those early hiking days of making one's way to the highest point in the eastern United States and safely back down again.
The Mt. Mitchell diary may be purchased through the Center for Appalachian Studies & Services at ETSU, from the Panther Press, P. O. Box 636, Seymour, Tenn. 37865, or in area bookstores. The prices are $12.95 (hardback) and $7.95 (paperback).
OTHER RECENT DONATIONS
* Two film chains from WCYB-TYV, Bristol, Va., through the efforts of Greg Wallace.
* A financial gift made in the memory of Kent Herrin by Mary Beth Spina.
* A financial gift from former archives director Richard M. Kesner to both the Archives Fund and the Tom Daniel Fund.
Photographs, continued from page 3 soap, quilting, cutting sugar cane and weaving on a loom. Both the Maxwell photos and the Burr Harrison photos concentrate on Johnson City. The Maxwell collection includes prints of businesses, street scenes and events in Johnson City in the years from 1950-70. The Harrison photos concentrate on Johnson City in the early 20th century.
A number of collections contain images from East Tennessee and/or Southwest Virginia. The Kelly and Green Collection, for example, contains prints and negatives of Bristol, Tennessee and Virginia schools, churches and businesses, 1934-40. The Charles Tiller Collection includes black and white prints of logging in Southwest Virginia, while the Kenneth Murray Photographs consists of black and white prints on various subjects, among them coal mining, farm life, handcrafts, country stores, tobacco growing, railroads and plowing.
West Virginia is represented in the Jeanne M. Rasmussen Collection. Rasmussen’s work concentrates on the coal-mining areas of that state. Contained in the collection are photos of miners and their families, as well as prints of mines, strip-mined land, and coal-mining communities.
The archives holds a great many photographs which relate to railroads. Prominent among the collections which focus on railroads are the Henry Blackwell Photographs, the James T. Dowdy, Sr. Photographs, the James A. Goforth Collection, the William Cary Hattan Photographs, and the Jack Underwood Photographs. The Blackwell collection consists of images which depict the August 13, 1940 flood on the Linville River Railroad. The Dowdy prints include images of the East Tennessee and Western Carolina Railroad, the Linville River Railroad, and the Carolina, Clinchfield and Ohio Railroad. The Goforth collection contains prints of places along the route of the Clinchfield Railway, while the Hattan prints focus on the building of the Clinchfield in the first and second decades of the 20th centuries. The Underwood photos are contained in a small collection which contains copy negatives and contacts of the 1904 New Market train wreck and other railroad-related topics.
These and other collections in the archives contribute to the photographic portrayal of the Southern Mountain region.®
Spring-Jummer 1995 Neus CAJSS 8S
Carroll Reece Museum
EXHIBITIONS
Printmaking The Reece continues its ongoing series spotlighting printmaking techniques. We open the month of April with an exhibit of contemporary works from Pace Galleries in New York City. This collection includes examples of aquatint, etching, serigraph, silkscreen, woodcut, drypoint, stratograph, relief print, andintaglio, among others. In June, we will continue showing various prints from the permanent collection in Gallery A.
Southern Voices . “This exhibit seeks to explore the ways in which the speech of Southerners exemplifies southern culture and defines it. It delves into the origins of the language, as much for the purpose of dispelling old myths as for clarifying and defining the truths they convey. Linguists tell us that the voices of the South are more alike than different. Regardless of racial, religious, or professional divisions, and regardless even of differences in national origin, there is unity in the speech of this region, grounded in common experience of the complex whole that is the South.” (brochure, Southern Voices: English in the American South) A project of the Tennessee Humanities Council, the interactive exhibit, “Southern Voices,” will aid your unraveling of stereotypical images of Southerners, discovery of word origins, and allow you to see and hear five Southerners from across the South.
First Tennessee Bank Show The Seventeenth Annual First Tennessee Bank Art Competition and Exhibition fills the museum in May with the finest of regional artistic endeavors. Opening on the evening of May 4, the “Bank Show” is a collaborative effort, combining the resources and talents of the Johnson City Area Arts Council, First Tennessee Bank, regional artists, and the Carroll Reece Museum. The competition is open to persons residing in the state of Tennessee or within a 200-mile radius of Johnson City, Tenn. Jeff Fleming, chief curator for the Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art(SECCA) in Winston-Salem, will serve as juror and will select work for inclusion in the exhibit and designate award winners. The First Award winner will be invited to have a one-person exhibit the following year. Sammie Nicely, First Award recipient in 1994, will present an exhibit this year at the Arts Council Gallery, downtown Johnson City, in conjunction with the “Bank Show” at the Reece.
"Regaining Our Heritage . . .”
by Sammie Nicely
6 New CAS Spring-Summer 1995S
The Hidden Warriors: Prisoners of War
Fifty years ago, Americans celebrated the ending of World War II. On May 8, 1945, German forces surrendered to the combined Allied Army; on August 14 of that same year, the Japanese Imperial Army also surrendered. Although the fighting had ceased, the conflict continued as negotia- tions determined the fates of those captured during the war. In most cases, prisoners of war were allowed to return to their families, while others were further detained to be tried for their alleged war crimes.
While awaiting such a trial, a group of German SS prison- ers of war passed the time creating works of art. These paintings reflect the beauty of their environment, rather than the horrors of war. Included is a portrait of their guard, a soldier from Greeneville, Tenn., to whom they presented their collection of art. This collection, along with war posters and other paraphernalia, will explore the world conflict with a closer examination of the issues of being a prisoner of war. In commemoration of the end of the war, the Reece’s summer exhibit will emphasize various aspects of the confinement of both Allied and Axis prisoners of war.
Tom Root in his studio
Tom and Peggy Root: Recent Work The Reece’s early autumn exhibit will feature the figura- tive/traditional oil paintings of artists Tom and Peggy Root of Jonesborough, Tenn. Since moving to the area from Lyme, Conn. two and a half years ago, the Roots have established themselves as classically trained artists as evidenced by their finely detailed and precisely executed portraits, landscapes, and still lifes. Both attended the Ringling School of Art in Sarasota, Fla., and continued their studies at the Lyme Academy of Fine Art in Connecti- cut. Peggy’s luminious landscapes evoke a mood of tranquility, while Tom’s portraits and detailed still lifes are reminiscent of the work of the old masters. Tom is also at work on a children’s book, which he has written and illustrated.
22, ee athe ®
eat atl “wages
ARTISTS IN ACTION
April’s Artist in Action will be Darla Beverage, a weaver from Gray, Tenn. Ms. Beverage will demonstrate her craft on the museum ’s large antique two-harness loom. She has produced award-winning tapestries as well as functional clothing which she markets throughout the area, and. currently serves as secretary for the Overmountain Weavers’ Guild.
The Reece Museum’s curator, Blair H. White, will demon- strate jewelry-making techniques as Artist in Action for May. White has taught numerous workshops and has served as an adjunct faculty member in ETSU’s Department of Art. He currently designs and produces jewelry and small sculpture in a variety of media.
LUNCH BREAK AT THE REECE
The Appalachian Recorder Ensemble will entertain the Lunch Break audience in April with early music from the Renaissance and Baroque periods. The four-member group, playing together since 1992, provides non-traditional music for educational and social events of all types.
May’s Lunch Break features the talents of folk musician Stevan Jackson. Jackson, known locally for his “Sense and Nonsense” column in The Loafer, has entertained audi- ences throughout the area with his guitar, Irish harp, and
storytelling.
Artists in Action and Lunch Break at the Reece conclude with the May offerings, and will resume in September.
PROGRAM NOTES
A free public address will precede the FORM-sponsored trip to Charleston, S.C., for the Spoleto Festival. ¢
In association with our summer focus on World War II, the museum will present three public lectures and a panel discussion in which historians and former POWs will broaden the public’s awareness of conditions on both sides of the battlefield and in prisoner-of-war camps.
¢ The museum’s slide curator, Nancy Jane Earnest, will conduct her annual painting workshop on Saturday, May 13. Earnest will demonstrate watercolor technique and assist students in developing their own interpretive style.
4
In conjunction with his early autumn exhibition at the museum, Tom Root will present a workshop in which students may practice classical oil painting techniques which are employed in many of his exhibited works.
ART SCHOLARSHIP NEEDS YOUR HELP!
For the past 26 years many deserving art students have received support from the Brightly Memorial Art Scholarship, and we wish to continue to provide this assistance. However, the museum has recently been notified by the Brightly Foundation that the funds have been exhausted.
Eligibility is open to all high school seniors, college students, and others in the area who wish to further their art education. The recipients of the scholarship have traditionally been chosen through an annual spring competition. A panel of judges decides on the monetary amount of the scholarship to be awarded to each recipient.
The Friends of Reece Museum has established an endowment fund for an annual scholarship, but in the meantime the museum must raise $2000 for the 1995 competition. We encourage you to make a contribution to this important part of the arts, possibly an endangered species. Please make checks payable to FORM 1995 Scholarship Fund, c/o Reece Museum, Box 70660, ETSU, Johnson City, TN 37614-0660.
it oR
Susan Antkiewicz, Chair FORM Membership/Development Committee
| ARROE ECE
MUSEUM
REMINDER: The Reece Museum willbe closed:
Friday - Sunday, April 14-16, for the Easter holiday Tuesday, July 4, for Independence Day.
Sering-Jummer 1995 Neuy CASS 7
Frienos of Reece Museum
Membership
CORPORATE
Mr. & Mrs. Mack P. Boyer Mrs. Ruby B. Boyer Mr. Tim Dills Dr. & Mrs. Sam W. Huddleston Mr. & Mrs. Robert M. Rowan Mrs. Charles E. Wildasin, Jr. Dr. Margaret R. Wolfe &
Mr. David E. Wolfe
SUSTAINING
Mr. & Mrs. Paul Coleman Dr. & Mrs. H.W. Coover Ms. Elizabeth Cushman Mr. & Mrs. James Frierson Dr. & Mrs. James A. Granger Mr. & Mrs. J. Herbert Hayes, Jr. Mrs. Carl A. Jones Dr. & Mrs. Tom McGinnis Ms. Frances C. McKee Dr. Robert Peplies &
Ms. Anne Thurston Brading Ms. Pamela D. Ripley Mr. & Mrs. Donald W. Spurrell
SUPPORTING
Dr. & Mrs. William P. Bailey, Jr.
Mrs. William C. Barson
. Pauline Bassitt
Georgia P. Blanchard
& Mrs. Fred P. Borchuck Fay E. Chandler
& Mrs. James C. Cochrane & Mrs. D.P. Culp
& Mrs. Horace B. Cupp, Jr. & Mrs. F. W. DeFriece, Jr. & Mrs. Burgin E. Dossett, Jr. Joan C. Dressel
Mrs. Philip Farnham
Ms. Janet S. Fisher
Dr. & Mrs. Michael T. Gallagher Dr. Edwin Greninger
Ms. Patsy S. Hauk
Mr. & Mrs. William M. Hensley Mr. & Mrs. Harry B. Johnson The Rev. & Mrs. William Jones Mr. & Mrs. Alan Karp
Mr. & Mrs. Joseph D. Keith Mr. & Mrs. J. Lloyd Langdon Dr. & Mrs. Richard Manahan Ms. Ada H. McLeod
Ms. Carol B. Norris
Dr. & Mrs. John Ostheimer Mr. & Mrs. Marvin Overman Mr. & Mrs. Donald E. Owens Mrs. Fred Parvin
Dr. Willene Paxton
Mr. & Mrs. Howard E. Phillips Ms. Myra H. Preston
Mr. & Mrs. Eugene P. Price Ms. Ruth M. Rawls
eYESSR EN ES
Dr. & Mrs. G.K. Scholl
Dr. Anne Sherrill
Ms. Mildred C. Stanton
Mrs. W.A. Starritt, Jr.
Dr. & Mrs. John M. Taylor, II Mr. & Mrs. F.L. Wallace, Jr. Ms. Gwendolyn Wallace
Mrs. W.L. Woods
FAMILY
Dr. & Mrs. Henry Antkiewicz Dr. & Mrs. David Benner Blackwell/Nowlin Family
Mr. & Mrs. Andrew H. Brown Mr. & Mrs. Harvey A. Dean Dr. & Mrs. A.D. Doak
Mr. & Mrs. George N. Dove Dr. & Mrs. Norris D. Embree
. & Mrs. Harry L. Gasteiger Sylvia Gaylor
. & Mrs. Sandy A. Greenwell, Jr. & Mrs. Walter D. Hankins . Elizabeth T. Imes
& Mrs. George R. Kelly
. Harriet P. Masters
& Mrs. G. Daniel McKee The Monday Club Auxiliary Mr. & Mrs. Carl R. Moore Col. & Mrs. R.C. Newell
Mrs. Louise B. Palmer
Mr. & Mrs. Milton Parker Mr. & Mrs. James J. Perry
Mr. & Mrs. Paul Premo
Ms. Mary R. Powell
Mr. & Mrs. David J. Purner Mr. & Mrs. Fred W. Sauceman Dr. & Mrs. H.H. Sherrod
Mr. & Mrs. Glenn Spanabel Ms. Joyce E. Squibb
Mr. & Mrs. Matthew Tucker Dr. & Mrs. Clayton Vandiver Mrs. Lorene T. Wagner Charles Waggoner Family
Mr. & Mrs. Carl Whitlow
Dr. & Mrs. George A. Williams, II Sam Wine Family
Dr. & Mrs. Lester B. Young
SEE EV EYE:
INDIVIDUAL
Mrs. Frank H. Anderson Mr. Lee B. Andrews
Ms. Ann J. Bachman
Ms. Lavinia Bowers
Dr. Martha W. Bradley Ms. Evalyn Brower
Mrs. Frank Bryant
Ms. Margaret C. Buchanan Ms. Mary E. Campbell Mrs. Ruth Combs
8 New CASS Spring-Jummer 1995
Ms. Heather Doub
Ms. Nancy Jane Earnest Ms. Eleanor Eason
Ms. Rosemary Edens Mrs. Grace Eller
Ms. June B. Elliott
Ms. Marie M. Flanary Ms. Deborah Fowler Ms. Billie Galloway
Ms. Nancy DeArmond Gentry Ms. Helen B. Gilbert
Mrs. Phyllis Holmes Ms. Barbara A. Hoskins Mrs. Arline C. Howe Ms. Leona Johnson Ms. Helen Jones
Mr. Ralph D. Jones Ms. Sylvia Kashdan Ms. Edith Keys
Ms. Janice M. Knipp Mr. David Leonard
Ms. Kay Mayfield
Ms. Helen McCrary Mrs. Kenneth J. McGowan Mrs. J.C. Neale, Jr.
Mrs. H.L. Netherland Mrs. Margaret K. Norris Ms. Jean L. Owen
Ms. Janice A. Ownby Ms. Jean H. Powell Mrs. W.G. Preas
Mrs. Raymond Roach Ms. Emma Jean Roddy Miss Vera Ruth Rule Ms. Ruth F. Sells
Ms. Nan Sexton
Ms. Phyllis Taylor
Ms. Sarah D. Thomas Ms. Jill Thornton
Mr. Paul Vincent
Ms. Gretchen Whisnant Mrs. Ferguson Wood Mrs. Virginia Woodward Ms. Laura Jane Yantz
STUDENT
Ms. Winnie M. Edwards Ms. Caroline A. Smith Ms. Rhonda Wilson
VOLUNTEERS
Susan Antkiewicz, Johnson City Jeremiah Barry, Johnson City Rosemary Barson, Johnson City Fred Borchuck, Johnson City Martha Culp, Johnson City Elizabeth Cushman, Watauga Tim Dills, Johnson City
Nancy Fischman, Johnson City Katherine Honour, Johnson City Sylvia Kashdan, Kingsport Carsie Lodter, Johnson City David Logan, Johnson City Harriet Masters, Johnson City Chuck Moore, Johnson City
John Neal, Johnson City Louise Palmer, Johnson City
Mary Powell, Johnson City
Jean Speer, Johnson City
Grace Spurrell, Johnson City Daniel Whisenhunt, Johnson City Rhonda Wilson, Johnson City
MUSEUM STAFF
Margaret S. Carr, Registrar Nancy Jane Earnest, Slide Curator Lisa Erwin, Secretary Harold F. Stewart, Sr.
Installation Supervisor Blair H. White, Curator
STUDENT ASSISTANTS
Tyrone Akridge, reception Tammy Hopkins, cataloging Tannille King, reception Melanie Knox, cataloging Billy Malone, workshop Stephen Smith, reception Daniel Whisenhunt, cataloging
STUDENT INTERNS Rebecca Tolley Daniel Whisenhunt
FRIENDS OF REECE MUSEUM
AI
Available Publications from the Center for Appalachian Studies and Services
Books
Joyce Squibb. An anthology of fiction, poetry, and essays. An excellent text for high school and college classes. $14.95.
Some Ballad Folks - by Tom Burton. Pioneering study of traditional ballad singers from Beech Mountain, N.C. Book - $6.50, accompanying tape - $5.00.
One For The Higger: Jack Higgs, A Man For All Seasons - edited by Lyle I. Olsen. Festschrift - a collection of articles by Higgs' collegues, former students, and friends. $10.00.
In the Spirit of Adventure: A 1914 Smoky Mouniain Hiking Journal - written by D.R. Beeson, Sr. Taken from the Beeson diaries in the Archives of Appalachia, edited by Norma Myers, Ned Irwin, and Charles Maynard. $7.95 paper, $12.95 cloth.
A Southern Appalachian Reader - edited by Nellie McNeil and
10 percent discount on orders of five or more
Now & Then Magazine
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10th Anniversary, Fiction/Poetry contest Politics
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Activism
Urban Appalachia Rural Appalachia Sense of Place Health
Perceptions & Prescriptions Insiders & Outsiders Working
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Recordings DOWN AROUND BOWMANTOWN: PORTRAIT OF A MUSICAL COMMUNITY IN NORTHEAST TENNESSEE Features remastered non-commercial disc recordings made in the late 1930s and early 1950s in Washington County, Tenn. Side two features recent digital recordings of some of the same musicians. Extensive notes and photos. Selected by the Library of Congress as one of the best recordings of folk music in 1989. Available in album and cassette (Please specify). $10.00.
EAST TENNESSEE STATE BLUEGRASS BAND Features original recordings along with old favorites. First recording by any university bluegrass band anywhere. Available in album and cassette. $10.00 for cassette. Special Album Sale - $8.00.
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Membership in the center provides public recognition of | special events sponsored by the center, prior to public
your generosity and your support for our work in the release.
Appalachian region. No matter what size the investment, a —_- Members receive special member rates and discounts on contribution to the Center for Appalachian Studies and books, recordings, and other publications or productions, Services through membership brings important returns. Study tours, study abroad, conferences, and programs. Your benefits of membership are:
¢ Members receive three issues of the center's magazine, In addition, your membership provides the center with Now & Then, to keep you abreast of Appalachian issues these benefits:
and the best in Appalachian writing and photography. - Memberships help us conduct the center's multiple
¢ Members receive the center's newsletter, NewsCASS, programs and projects in teaching, research, and service in three times a year. Members are publicly acknowledged in __ the Appalachian region.
the newsletter once each year. - Members have opportunities for participating in center
* Members receive advance notice of workshops and projects as volunteers.
Friends of the center are also encouraged to support specific programs with special funds already established for them.
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JACK HIGGS HONORED WITH LAUREL LEAVES AWARD
Dr. Jack Higgs, recently retired from the English faculty at East Tennessee State University, has been named as one of two recipients of this year's Laurel Leaves Award from the Appalachian Consortium. The consortium, a non-profit, educational organization dedicated to preserving the cultural heritage of South- ern Appalachia, gives this annual award to individuals who have made outstanding contributions to Southern Appalachia and the people of the region.
The Laurel Leaves Award is a sculptured relief of the laurel worked in aluminum, then hand painted and mounted on wormy chestnut and oak taken from an old barn in Avery County, N. C. Higgs will receive the award at the April 7th meeting of the consortium at Mars Hill College in North Carolina.
Higgs, nominated by the center, has a record of impressive accomplishments, particularly in the field of Appalachian literature. He is co-editor (with previous Laurel Leaves Award winner Ambrose Manning) of Voices from the Hills: Selected Readings of Southern Appalachia, the most widely used anthology of
Appalachian writing since its publication in 1967. The University of Tennessee Press has just published Higgs’ Appalachia Inside Out: A Sequel to Voices from the Hills (in two volumes), co-edited with Manning and
Encyclopdia, continued from page I
science correspondent, Pentagon correspondent, and White House correspondent. A native of Florence, Ala., he is a graduate of the University of Mississippi and attended Columbia University on a Sloan-Rockefeller Fellowship in Advanced Science Writing. In 1988-89, Abramson was the Mary and Barry Bingham Adjunct Professor at Berea College, during which time he wrote his biography of W. Averill Harriman, Spanning the Century. Abramson currently serves as executive director of Protect Historic America, a national commit- tee promoting historic preservation.
Several university presses have expressed interest in publishing the encyclopedia. The project will likely take five years to complete. In the next few months, the center will assemble the advisory committee and the senior editors for the project and develop the budget and funding for the project.
The center is asking anyone interested in contrib- uting to the project to send a letter and short vita to the center office. We welcome ideas for topics that should be covered and suggestions for sources of financial support.
Jim Wayne Miller (also a Laurel Leaves winner).
Higgs has published articles on Appalachia for Appalachian Journal, An Encyclopedia of East Tennessee, Appalachia/Appalachian Literature, Mossy Creek Journal, and Essays in Honor of Cratis Wil- liams. Just last year, Higgs was honored by the Appalachian Studies Association with the Cratis Williams Award for outstanding teaching and scholar- ship in Appalachian studies. He is widely known for his work on Appalachian humor, both as practitioner and scholar, having contributed to two books and several programs on the topic. His command of knowledge in many fields coupled with a great wit keeps him in high demand as a speaker.
All of us at ETSU are proud that Jack Higgs is our colleague. He gives unstintingly of his time and energy to students, colleagues, and our regional communities. Jack Higgs cares about learning, and he cares about the people of Appalachia.
IN MEMORIAM
Everyone in the Appalachian Studies family mourns the death of John Stephenson on December 6, 1994. Throughout his entire academic career and especially during the years he served as president of Berea College in Kentucky, John influenced the development of Appalachian Studies and contrib- uted to improvement of life in Appalachia in count- less ways. He was mentor and friend to many people, including me.
When I was a young university professor, just becoming involved in Appalachian Studies, John always made me feel welcome. His bright smile, kind eyes, softly cadenced voice, and passionate commit- ment to Appalachia commanded presence in every Appalachian Studies gathering I attended and made me want to be like him. When we finally had an opportunity at Virginia Tech, where I taught for many years, to get grant money from the National Endowment for the Humanities for an Appalachian Studies program, John was a member of the site visitation team. We got our program. It changed the course of my life.
The last conversation I had with John was when
continued on page 12
=_ Soring-Jummer 1995 Neus CASS 11 |
News CAS
Newsletter of the Center for Appalachian Studies and Services / East Tennessee State University
<>
Rs & Jpedal Collections A Divirion of Sherrod Library
GRROIL REECE MUSEUM
Center: 615-929-5348 FAX:615-929-6340 Archives: 615-929-4338 Box 70665 Reece Museum: 615-929-4392 Box 70660
East Tennessee State University is a Tennessee Board of Regents institution.
East Tennessee State University is fully in accord with the belief that educational and employment opportunities should be available to all eligible persons without regard to age, sex, color, race, religion, national origin or disability. Printed by East Tennessee State University Press. TBR 220-048-94 3.9M
HAvpalach an STUDIES AND SERVICES Center for Appalachian Studies and Services East Tennessee State University
Box 70556 Johnson City TN 37614-0556
Forward and Address Correction Requested
In Memoriam, continued from page 11
we shared a panel at the retirement party for Loyal Jones in Berea. I concluded my remarks with a quote from something John had written about our commitment to Appalachia some years earlier that I always loved. John wrote: "How many of us are there...who have made secret pledges to our- selves that we will not forget this time, that we will work in large or small ways, quietly or noisomely, for as long as we draw breath, to make some small difference in what is known about this place and improving life for the people of this place. And what an incalculable difference is made by this grand conspiracy, this community of pledged lives, this not-so-secret society of the committed.” After the session, John asked me, "Did I write that? That's pretty good, isn't it?” Yes, John, it is good. It came from the heart of a good man. You will be missed.
—Jean Haskell Speer
Non-Profit Org. U.S. Postage Paid Permit No. 194 Johnson City, Tenn. 37601
In time, we realized that even though we had not succeeded in passing the leg- islation we wanted, we had drawn a lot of public attention to the issue. In fact, the next year Governor Caperton began tak- ing heat from citizens concerned about the lack of groundwater protection. He re- sponded by appointing the Governor’s Groundwater Task Force, a 12-member committee of people representing indus- try, regulators, and environmentalists. Caperton instructed them to write a con- sensus groundwater protection bill which he himself would introduce in the 1991 session. Norm Steenstra, Cindy Rank of the WV Highlands Conservancy, Richard di Pretoro of Mountain Stream Monitors and I were the environmental representa- tives on the committee.
There were many grueling drafting meetings and major hurdles. The legis- lative session started before the Task Force had ironed out enough differ- ences to draft a bill. At one point, when it seemed unlikely that we would get an acceptable non-degradation clause, the other environmentalists and I withdrew from the committee in pro- test to work on our own bill. This withdrawal, I believe, was key. The governor urged us to reconvene, and by that time, something had convinced industry to finish the deal. Finally, af- ter six long months, the task force reached consensus which, not surpris- ingly, involved wins and losses for each side.
For example, we got our crucial non- degradation clause, but not our citizen suit provision. Industry got provisions that would allow for activities such as mining and gas development, activities that by their nature could not be done without impacting groundwater. These provisions, however, were qualified. Min- ing activities were already regulated by another statute which, if properly en- forced, would protect groundwater. In ad- dition, groundwater outside the natural gas production zone was still subject to non-degradation. For its efforts, the task force received an Award of Special Merit from the National Environmental Awards Council.
Waxing and Waning
As WVEC gained strength, through its growing membership, its diversity, and its successes, we gained recognition as the
state’s main environmental voice. A lot is now expected from us. When we ex- pressed concern about the lack of envi- ronmental advocates on various state advisory committees, the state responded by tapping our members for a variety of positions, from the Public Service Com- mission to the Division of Environmental Protection Advisory Board.
Over our first five years, we have seen the strength of the environmental move- ment shift from one area of West Virginia to another — a healthy sign. A good ex- ample is the WVEC’s Highlands Region in east-central West Virginia which con- tains much of the remote Monongahela National Forest. Initially, there were few environmental activists around Elkins in the northern part of this region.
As WVEC gained strength, through its growing mem- bership, its diversity, and its successes, we gained recognition as the state’s
main environmental voice.
Then along came Appalachian Corri- dor H, a four-lane superhighway pro- posed from Buckhannon to Route 81 in Virginia. This highway is part of the 1960s federal highway plan of the Appa- lachian Regional Commission designed to increase access to remote areas of the Ap- palachians in the name of “economic de- velopment.” Many area residents contend that the highway would threaten their quality of life and destroy the quiet, natu-
ral, unpolluted character of the region which makes the area so attractive. As a result, the Highlands Region now has one of the highest levels of activist energy in the state.
Unlike industry representatives and government regulators, we are typically volunteers. In fact when it’s possible, we often take vacation time from our jobs to do WVEC work. We generally do our own research and typing because we lack adequate paid support staff. The playing field between environmentalists and in- dustry interests appears far from level.
However, WVEC members often bring a strong commitment to the job, a more intense dedication than we would feel if we were being paid for what we do. A volunteer is usually driven by very per- sonal motives, such as concern about air quality or a deep caring for the entire natural world. We put in those long, long hours because we feel deeply that what we are doing is vital. That often gives us an edge that money can’t buy.
The time and extent of involvement of our many volunteers is as diverse as the collection of people themselves. When volunteers find that their part of the battle is over or when they are just plain ex- hausted, many retreat back to “normal” life. Some take a break after one major campaign, while others stay around for
years, working on many issues and
fighting many fights. “Burnout” comes and goes.
Keeping volunteers healthy by al- lowing them a break ensures that envi- ronmental activism can remain a renewable resource. But taking time off can be difficult to do. The phone calls don’t stop, the mail keeps com- ing, and there can be serious guilt feel- ings. Eventually, however, you learn that your own health, both mental and physical, is important for the health of the whole group.
When an organization like WVEC is healthy, it can continue its actions on various environmental issues — even as the energies of individuals and groups wax and wane. In this way, the WVEC provides the necessary continuity and persistent effort to deal with the seem- ingly never-ending environmental issues facing West Virginia.
WVEC’s challenge for the future is to keep moving forward with long-term policy initiatives while maintaining the advances we have made. Out of the more than 100 groups and the thousands of in- dividuals who have connected with us over our first five years has evolved a strong network of dedicated activists. For example, Marta Steenstra, a Charleston high school student and Norm’s daughter, has begun a statewide Sierra Student Coa- lition with its own newsletter. Politicians have felt the effects of West Virginia’s environmental movement at the polls where candidates are forced to deal with
Please see WVEC on page 29.
Spring 1995 ¢ Now & Then e 21
EEE EE _____eEEEEEEEEEE———————————EE——eEsoueVO|
Appalachian Environmental Organizations
¢ The Bankhead Monitor Pi}: Box 117 Moulton AL 35650
Contact Person: Lamar Marshall, Exec. Dir. Phone: 205-974-7678 (8 a.m. - 5 p.m., 7 days a week)
General Description, Issues & Activities:
A forest watch group; publishes two maga- zines on national forests. Issues and activities include wilderness preservation; opposition to clear cutting, herbiciding lands and conversion of native forest to monoculture. Currently con- ducting the Bankhead Watershed Project to provide input into the 1996 Forest Plan Revi- sion of the U.S. Forest Service.
¢ Chattooga River Watershed Coalition P.O. Box 2006 Clayton GA 30525
Contact Person: Buzz Williams, Exec. Dir. Phone: 706-782-6097 (9 a.m. - 5 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Protecting, promoting, and restoring the natu- ral ecological integrity of the Chattooga River watershed and educating and empowering communities to practice good stewardship on public and private lands. Activities include a petition for “interim protection” to the Re- gional Forester of the U.S. Forest Service to protect old growth/roadless areas and other critical habitat until new forest plans can be written based on “good science”; and organiz- ing volunteer monitoring teams to track activi- ties on Forest Service lands.
¢ Coosa River Basin Initiative 2887 Alabama Highway Rome GA 30165
Contact Person: Jerry Brown, Exec. Dir. Phone: 706-235-0131 (9 a.m. - 5:30 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Working for a healthier Coosa River Basin. Activities include a citizen water monitoring program; assisting local & county government to develop environmentally sound policies; utilizing Clean Water Act to assist industries to become more environmentally aware; working on watershed value campaign; work- ing to demonstrate the relationship between good economy and good environment.
Appalachian environmental groups as we could find and asked them to pass it on.
Here are the results.
e Friends of the Mountains P. O. Box 368 Clayton GA 30525
Contact Person: Don Bundrick, President Phone: 706-754-3310 (evenings)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Protecting the mountain counties of North Georgia. Issues & activities include forests; clean water; public education; revision of the current U.S. Forest Service Land and Re- source Management Plan for the Chattooga River watershed.
¢ The Rabun County Coalition to Save the Forests
Route 1, Box 1182
Clayton GA 930525
Contact Person: Bob Alexander, President Phone: 706-782-6214
General Description, Issues & Activities: Working within the Tallulah District of the Chattahoochee National Forest. Activities in- clude litigation against the Forest Service con- cerning Decision Notices and Environmental Assessments. Issues include timber cutting, burning, water, and erosion.
e Sierra Club - Georgia Chapter 1447 Peachtree St., NE, Suite 305 Atlanta GA 30309
Contact Person: Katie Van Brackel Phone: 404-607-1262 (9 a.m. - 4:30 p.m)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Ongoing issues include water, wetlands and wildlands protection; transportation improve- ment; solid waste reduction; land use plan- ning; forest and ecosystem protection through education, legislation, and litigation.
¢ The Wilderness Society 1447 Peachtree Street, N.E., #812 Atlanta GA 30309
Contact Person: Peter C. Kirby, Southeast Regional Director
22 ° Now & Then «© Spring 1995
Phone: 404-872-9453
General Description, Issues & Activities: Uses wilderness designation and other means to protect publicly owned wildlands. Working on the new plan for the Cherokee National For- est and other national forests of the Southern Appalachians.
Kentucky
e ASPI (Appalachian Science in the Public Interest)
P. O. Box 298
Livingston KY 40445
Contact Person: Jack Kieffer Phone: 606-453-2105 (9 a.m. - 4 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Promotes simple living and organic gardens in Appalachia; produces a Simple Lifestyle Cal- endar. Issues & activities include forest protec- tion and sustainability; strip mining; artificial wetlands; appropriate technology; environmen- tal assessments for organizations; water con- servation and purification.
¢ KFTC (Kentuckians for the Common- wealth)
P. O. Box 174 Blackey Road
London KY 40741
Contact Person: Burt Lauderdale, Coord. Phone: 606-878-2161 (9 a.m. - 5 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Deals with Kentucky’s environmental issues including environmental effects of strip min- ing; removal of old growth forests and clear- cutting in the Daniel Boone National Forest; development of a Forest Management Plan, in- cluding management of privately logged lands; and forestry, oil, gas, coal, and waste issues.
Maryland
¢ Sierra Club Southern Appalachians Ecoregion Task Force
69 Franklin Street
Annapolis MD 21401
Contact Person: Howard Ayers, Chair Phone: 410-268-7411 (9 a.m. - 5 p.m., M-F)
General Description, Issues & Activities: A branch of the Sierra Club which includes the states of Ala., Ga., N.C., S.C., Tenn., W: Va., Va., Md., and Pa. Activities include restoration and protection of native biological diversity in the Southern Appalachian mountains.
North Carolina
e Southern Appalachian Biodiversity Project
P. O. Box 3141
Asheville NC 28802
Contact Person: Brownie Newman, Co-dir. Phone: 704-258-2667 (M-F, 9 a.m. - 5 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Works throughout the Southern Appalachian region on issues related to endangered wildlife and public lands including protection of na- tional forests from logging and damage from off-road vehicle use; protection by litigation of endangered wildlife; prevention of large-scale mining in national forests; and elimination of subsidies for national forest logging.
¢ Southern Appalachian Mountains Initiative
The Interchange Building
59 Woodfin Place
Asheville NC 28801
Contact Person: Leslie Cox, Coordinator Phone: 704-251-6889 or 6208 (M-F, 8 a.m. - 6 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Voluntary consortium of government agen- cies, businesses, industries, environmental or- ganizations, academia, and other groups in eight Southeastern states (Ala., Ga., Ky.,
N.C., S.C., Tenn., Va. and W. Va.). Recom- mends reasonable measures to remedy exist- ing and to prevent future adverse effects from man-made air pollution on the Southern Appa- lachian Mountains’ sensitive resources.
Tennessee
e Friends of the Clinch and Powell Rivers P. O. Box 636 Sneedville TN 37869
Contact Person: Will E. Brickley, President Phone: 615-733-2633 (Early a.m. or late p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Concerned with the Clinch and Powell River watersheds but concentrates on Hawkins and Hancock (Tenn.) Counties. Concerns include water quality of the Clinch and Powell Rivers and their tributaries; biological water monitor- ing in streams; solid waste issues such as land- fills, incinerators, and recycling. Publishes a monthly newsletter.
¢ Foothills Land Conservancy 352 High Street Maryville TN 37803
Contact Person: Randy Brown Phone: 615-681-8326 (9 a.m. - 5 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Independent land trust dedicated to protecting
the scenic and ecological resources of East Tennessee. Focuses on the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Issues include land conservation, open space and farmland preservation. Raising $1.3 million to purchase a 4,600 acre tract to be given to the Great Smoky Mountains NP and the Tennes- see Wildlife Resources Agency to create a new wildlife management area. Plans to estab- lish a buffer zone along the Tennessee side of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
e National Parks & Conservation Associa- tion
Southeast Regional Office
P. O. Drawer E
Norris TN 37828
Contact Person: Don Barger, Southeast Re- gional Director Phone: 615-494-7008 (Days)
General Description, Issues & Activities: America’s only private nonprofit citizens’ or- ganization dedicated solely to protecting, pre- serving, and enhancing the U. S. National Park system. Specific issues include regional air quality problems which are currently causing damage in the Great Smoky Mountains Na- tional Park; inappropriate development along the Blue Ridge Parkway; opposes proposal to build an additional road access into the scenic gorge of the Big South Fork area; supports re- introduction of the red wolf into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
¢ Roan Mountain Society #4 Bingham Court Johnson City TN 37604
Contact Person: Jeff G. Wardeska, President Phone: 615-928-1638 (evenings)
General Description, Issues & Activities: No geographic limitations; no affiliations. Our goal is to provide information about issues (in- cluding environmental) affecting the Roan Mountain area. Working to incorporate the hack line trail to Carver’s Gap into the U.S. Forest Service’s system of trails; sponsors Sci- ence Fair award for the best project relating to the Southern Appalachian highlands.
e Sierra Club - State of Franklin Group 266 Mayberry Road Jonesborough TN 37659
Contact Person: Linda C. Modica, Chair Phone: 615-753-9697
General Description, Issues & Activities: One of six groups in the Tennessee Chapter of the Sierra Club. Covers the entire Northeast Tennessee area. Concerned with community education on environmental issues, protection of the biodiversity of local forests and wilder- ness areas, and promotion of energy conserva- tion to mitigate destruction of forest and air resources by power plant air pollution.
¢ Tennessee Citizens for Wilderness Planning
130 Tabor Road
Oak Ridge TN 37830
Contact Person: Joan Burns or Linda Laforest, Co-Executive Directors Phone: 615-481-0286 (10 a.m. - 3 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: An independent, statewide environmental or- ganization dedicated to the care of Tennessee’s natural environment. Its work led to the creation of the Big South Fork National Recreation & River Area and designation of the Obed as a National Wild and Scenic River. Currently fighting construction of new golf courses in state parks; promoting regional wa- tershed planning; lobbying for appropriation funds for land acquisition in the Big South Fork and Obed; and promoting sustainable forestry practices.
e American Chestnut Foundation P.O. Box 4044 Bennington, VT 05201
Contact Person: Rachael Kelly. John Herrington, Exec. Dir.
Phone: 802-447-0110
General Description, Issues & Activities: The foundation’s sole goal is to restore the American chestnut tree to the landscape. Is- sues & activities include publication of a newsletter and journal; funds and conducts breeding research and affiliated research to create an American chestnut hybrid that will be 98% American chestnut and 2% other spe- cies so it can resist the blight.
e Southern Appalachian Forest Coalition 201 W. Main Street, #14 Charlottesville VA 22902
Contact Person: David Carr, Chair, Steering Committee Phone: 804-977-4090 (9:30 a.m. - 5:30 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Comprised of nine environmental groups joined in a four-year effort to protect the na- tive biological diversity of public lands in the Southern Appalachians. Currently developing data to support creation of conservation zones; protecting vital components of biological di- versity through legal and administrative ac- tion; educating decision-makers about threats to forest resources; establishing a conservation zone in the Chattooga Watershed; seeking public support for permanent protection of key biological, scenic, and recreation resources.
Spring 1995 ¢ Now & Then e- 23
2 EEE————————s!
¢ Southern Environmental Law Center 201 W. Main Street, #14 Charlottesville VA 22902
Contact Person: David Carr, Staff Attorney Phone: 804-977-4090 (9:30 a.m. - 5:30 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities:
A nonprofit advocacy organization working to protect public health and the environment in a six-state region (Ala., Ga., N.C., S.C., Tenn. and Va.) by providing legal representation to state and local groups to address site-specific abuses of natural resources and critical natural areas. Past activities include setting a national precedent that all national parks and wilder- ness areas are entitled to strict protection from air pollution. Current activities include playing a leadership role in a four-year, regionwide coalition campaign to create a system of per- manently protected conservation zones in Southern Appalachian national forests; help- ing to steer environmental groups, industry, and state and federal regulatory agencies to- ward creating strategies to reduce air pollution in the Southern Appalachians.
¢ Virginians for Wilderness Route 1, Box 250 Staunton VA 24401
Contact Person: Robert F. Mueller
General Description, Issues & Activities:
A Central Appalachian umbrella group. Issues and activities include forest issues (national and state forests); opposition to roads and highways such as Corridor H and Route 58; legal action against the U. S. Forest Service; establishment of Wilderness Preserves and Legislation to propose a “Central Appalachian Ecosystem Protection Act.”
¢ Virginia Wilderness Committee 95 Hope Street Harrisonburg VA 22801
Contact Person: Lynn Cameron, President Phone: 703-434-1318 (evenings, weekends)
General Description, Issues: & Activities: A citizens’ group dedicated to the preservation of outstanding wild areas on public land in Virginia through congressional wilderness designations.
West Virginia
¢ Corridor H Alternatives P. O. Box 11 Kerens WV 26276
Contact Person: Hugh Rogers, Secretary Phone: 304-636-2662 (Any time)
General Description, Issues & Activities: A coalition opposed to construction of the Corri- dor H Superhighway between Elkins, W. Va., and Strasburg, Va.; maintains offices in Kerens, New Creek, and Wardensville, W.
24 °- Now & Then « Spring 1995
Va., and Lebanon Church, Va. Activities in- clude commenting on Corridor H’s environ- mental impact statement, working to cut its funding, and publicizing its high cost and minimal economic benefits. Will expand to promote sensible transportation planning for the West Virginia Potomac Highlands and Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.
e Greenbrier River Watershed Association P. O. Box 1419 Lewisburg WV 24901
Contact Person: Mark Blumenstein Phone: 304-445-7822
General Description, Issues & Activities: A grass-roots group of about 300 members concentrating on the future health of the Greenbrier River and its tributaries. Activities include opposition to proposed Army Corps of Engineers dam on river; conducting a five- year baseline study of river’s health. Con- cerned with agricultural and development problems, including enforcement of existing regulations; logging, sediment, and pollution control.
¢ Harrison County ECO P30 Bex 2113 Clarksburg WV 26302
Contact Person: Matt Evans, President Phone: 304-783-5307 (after 6 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Deals with environmental issues in Harrison County, W. Va. Past activities included pro- moting recycling; presenting programs on en- vironmental issues and enforcing the results of a referendum on landfill expansion. Current activities include monitoring legislative ac- tions, planning Earth Week programs; advo- cating chlorine-free pulp mills in West Virginia; and presenting programs on acid mine drainage and wind power. Future plans include developing recommendations on land use planning.
¢ The Mountain Institute
(formerly Woodlands Mountain Institute) Main & Dogwood
Franklin WV 26807
Contact Person: Jane Pratt, CEO & President Phone: 304-358-2401 (Wed. & Thurs., 9 a.m. - 4 p.m.)
General Description, Issues & Activities:
A not-for-profit educational, scientific, and ac- tion organization with a 400-acre teaching campus in Franklin, W. Va. In addition to West Virginia, it has divisions in the Himalayas and the Andes. Promotes world- wide partnerships that create innovative and sustainable solutions to global mountain prob- lems. Activities include providing technical assistance to mountain peoples working to cre- ate a better life for themselves while taking
care of the environment.
¢ Ohio Valley Environmental Coalition 1101 Sixth Avenue, Room 225 Huntington, WV 25701
Contact person: Dianne Bady, Director Phone: 304-522-0246 (Late mornings)
General Description, Issues & Activities: Coalition covers the Tri-State (Ohio, W. Va., Ky.) region along the Ohio River. Promoting least polluting technologies at paper mill pro- posed for Apple Grove, W. Va.; working to get responsible chemical emergency plan for Kenova, W. Va.; promoting sustainable forest cutting in region; kept BASF toxic waste in- cinerator out of area; concerned with improv- ing air quality.
¢ Solar Age Press Box 610 Peterstown WV 24963
Contact Person: Jack Frazier
General Description, Issues & Activities: Ecology, natural fiber publisher; editor/pub- lisher of Solar Age Hemp Paper Report. Issues and activities include promoting and distribut- ing tree-free paper; fighting Apple Grove Pa- per Mill on Ohio River in West Virginia and the Appalachian Power Company through Vir- ginia and West Virginia.
e Southern Appalachian Labor School P. O. Box 127 Kincaid WV 25119
Contact Person: John David, Director; Sue Workman, Environmental Coordinator Phone: 304-595- 2358
General Description, Issues & Activities: Concentrates on West Virginia environmental issues, with an emphasis on the mid- and southern counties. Issues include PCBs; toxic dumps; wood products.
¢ West Virginia Highlands Conservancy P.O. Box 306 Charleston WV 25337
Contact Person: Richard di Pretoro Phone: 304-296-8963, M-F, 9 a.m. - 5 p.m.
General Description, Issues & Activities: West Virginia corporation working to protect the natural resources and the natural areas of the state. Special emphasis on the Monongahela National Forest/Highlands Re- gion. Concerned with surface and ground wa- ter quality, coal mining regulation and timbering practices. Increasing focus on wil- derness, biodiversity and timbering of national forest and other public lands.
— compiled by Janet Hearne
Janet Hearne is an English major with a mi- nor in journalism at ETSU. She is a student assistant with Now & Then.
Aging Architecture
A Defense of the Mountain Cabin
is the mountain cabin an overused stereotype? Yes, but...
here you were, two usually even- tempered authors, “fit to be tied” because some Yankee publishers decked out both your books with the same old stereotyped covers they always seem
to use when something comes from Appa-
lachia. I heard the disdain in your voices, the despair. You could just see a painter in some warehouse studio lit by the northern light (no doubt fluorescent) of New York City, eyes looking inward to the imagined mountains and the decrepit cabin, the rustic mountain home. You see the artist, al- most as an afterthought, deftly brushing in a family, impoverished but proud. Af- ter all, artists are humanists! No doubt Flannery O’Connor wouldn’t have wanted those book covers ei- ther. In a letter to a friend, the Georgia author complained that a recent newspaper ar- ticle had been accompanied by a picture “designed to make us look like poor white trash.” Posed with a neighbor’s derelict house “in the background and no nota- tion that I didn’t live in it — me looking gimlet-eyed out across what must be a hogwaller — me feeding some geese. Anyway, my mail for the last two weeks has been from rural Georgia. .. . All these letters are from people I might have made up. I don’t want to get any nearer to them than in the
Charles L. Callahan
by Sharon K. Turnbull
As a symbol, the mountain cabin has become a visual cliché. Like all meta- phors, it falls apart, failing to say enough. Perhaps those of us who feel the mean in- sult when forced to view that image, time and time again, experience the opening of a wound. With good reason, we suspect the outside world is too unwilling, too un- interested, to look beyond. Perhaps, in- stead, we need to think more deeply about the image of the weathered swayback barn, the isolated cabin in the woods, the empty and abandoned storefront. Why do they appear with monotonous regularity on calendars and postcards, in so many images of Appalachia? What explains their popularity?
One of many old outbuildings sporting an advertisement for imagination either. .. .” the Hotel Windsor, once located in Johnson City, Tenn.
To the painter, the explanation is simple. In the words of Danish writer Isak Dinesen, the cabin preserves “the charm of remoteness, reverie and decay of the place . . . harmoniously tuned into the harmony of the whole.” Modern buildings have no such appeal. Concrete, vinyl, and aluminum siding do not age well. They don’t “grow” attractive or interesting, only ugly. Like the writer, the painter is on what recently retired East Tennessee State University English professor Jack Higgs has called a “search for the usable past, a quest for meaning and identity.” Robert Bateman, arguably North America’s foremost wildlife painter and an ardent environmentalist, asserts that “there are more reasons than simple preservation for pro- tecting the wild places we have left and making more human the man-made envi- ronments we have con- structed.”
Is it possible that these clapboard shanties do in fact make Appalachia’s man- made environment more hu- man, that they are an adequate, even beautiful, metaphor for the life of Ap- palachia? What values of Appalachian life are sug- gested by the simple, rustic cabin set in the mountains? The tutored eye can find many — love of landscape (someone chose this site, and certainly not for its conve- nience), a keen eye for what “belongs” and a reluctance to despoil the environment, courage in the face of adver- sity, self-sufficiency (includ- ing the ability to enjoy the company of one’s self with little need for urbane attrac- tions), the craft to build
Spring 1995 ¢« Now & Then e 25
eee eee en nee ee
one’s home, individuality, respect for the integrity of function. Most significantly, the image gives honor to the past.
In reality, these aging architectures are fast disappearing from the landscape. Like the Appalachian character itself, they have numerous deadly adversaries of which time and neglect, combined with the ele- ments, are the most devastating. Blizzards, floods, fires, falling trees, and erosion serve as perpetual reminders that, in the face of nature’s force, the work of man is frail indeed.
Appalachians are often bemused by the willingness of urban folk to live among the vandals and the thieves. Yet, in the name of economic growth, we have naively wel- comed kindred spirits into our midst.
As buildings become unprofitable and taxes soar, economic forces demand that a building pay its way. Ironically, modern carpetbaggers, collectors, and antique deal- ers who service a growing market for nos- talgia, have gutted many storehouses of their memories, leaving only empty clear- ings in their place. The beautiful surfaces of weathered wood and ancient brick have made them the quarry of contractors who will often willingly demolish a structure free of charge. The salvage itself, once it is fashioned into coffee tables for some urban penthouse, will more than recover the cost.
Neither is progress, with its burgeoning energy requirements, the friend it pretends to be. A single hydroelectric project relo- cates a score of communities to the bottom of a lake, their architecture to be appreci-
ated by the bass.
Then there are those who disfigure property not of their own heritage, creat- ing incongruities that mar the view to and from their summer homes — mail- boxes of the Ralph Lauren Shoppe and
red paint covers green which covers white, but the sun strips them all, leaving eye-catching splotches of each, and fi- nally, only the brown stain. The land sinks, and the beams bend — the barn sags, now depending on the kudzu for
Concrete, vinyl, and aluminum siding do not age well. They don’t “grow” attractive or interesting, only ugly.
Buford’s Sundries and Appliance Repair stand side by side. The pop culture of the big city is strangely intrusive. Some- how it seems much uglier in rural areas.
Most find old weathered buildings vi- sually pleasing, not simply because the structures are picturesque and quaint. They provide some sense of security and simplicity, a touch with one’s roots, ac- tual or desirously imagined. But they also have qualities that transcend all of this for they embody the essence of a re- sourceful lifestyle. Built with simple tools for simple, functional purposes, they contain no expensive whimsies, like diverting the creek to run through the solarium. Bred in the bones of every Appalachian is the knowledge that the creek will run through it in its own good time. These edifices were personal un- dertakings. No two were crafted alike — no architects, professional decorators, or franchise floor plans here. Each is a unique folk sculpture.
And the seasons and the generations have added their own adornments. The
support. Part of a roof, collapsed by the heavy snow, is replaced with new materi- als, at no cost if the owner will allow it to recommend the “Windsor Hotel — Five Miles Ahead.” Upon each aging structure is writ a story waiting to be told.
For these weathered buildings are monuments to the past, to moments of laughter and lust, to grief, childbirth, and death. They are all that remain of a fam- ily, a childhood, a way of life. The people have gone — scattered or dead — but the buildings remain, the last physical evi- dence. When they too go, then it will be as a grave without a stone.
Where will the memory live?
pa
Sharon Turnbull describes herself as a no- madic scholar. She is clinical associate pro- fessor of psychiatry at the Quillen College of Medicine and serves as interim director of stu- dent health services at East Tennessee State University, Johnson City, Tenn.
What the Moon Knows
Fall Equinox, 1993
Like the rest ’'m out
of balance this Equinox.
| see too many red lights and too few sunrises.
| sit for too much of the Evening News and not enough of the wren’s. | work too hard,
love too little.
But the moon knows its light equals its dark.
And I’m learning.
26 °- Now & Then e Spring 1995
area ————
— Jim Minick Jim Minick teaches at Radford University.
FICTION
ne autumn morning, long ago, I saw a tree of fire.
I used to imagine my father, but I never did so with any blame, any rancor. As for my mother, I had ceased blaming her by the time I saw that tree. I didn’t pity myself. It’s important for me to recall these feelings exactly, in order to recap- ture my exact state of mind that autumn morning.
I had come to live with a man I called “Mr. Szol” (for his name was Szolasski). Life there was not bad, I realized even at that early age. I had seen others my age being beaten, going hungry, turned out dirty or ill-clothed, or even given up to spend their young days in the mines or the quarries. The year was 1918, and I was seven years old.
Szol had picked me out of a line of children formed up when the eastbound “Orphan Train” stopped at Thurmond, West Virginia. I had some vague impres- sion of a most horrible fate awaiting any children who weren’t chosen before the train arrived in Norfolk.
On the ride across country, we orphans were kept in a separate car, but soldiers in their drab and khaki doughboy uniforms often walked through, passing bottles back and forth and laughing. The coun- tryside whirred past us orphans like a dream.
n the ride back from Thurmond,
Szol had told me, as we bounced
along in his wagon, that he once had a wife, but that she had died giving birth to what would have been their first child.
I was petrified. The farmhouse was a simple five rooms, a wooden frame on a foundation of stone, and seemed tremen- dous to me. Any of the niceties of a coun- try house must have been the work of that dead wife and were either long since put away or put out of mind as frivolous. For example, there were samplers of counted cross-stitch hanging on the walls, show- ing scenes such as frame homes sur-
rounded by flowers and plants which stretched up to a smiling sun. These pic- tures were covered along the tops of their frames with layers of dust. In a certain corner, dried flowers rustled in a porce- lain vase. In my mind (even at that young age — how I must have understood death and loss!) I could see Szol’s woman put- ting the flowers there and him not being able to remove them after she died. I hated lying within sight of those sam- plers, and crept past those dry flowers as if I were in the presence of an ancient spirit.
Perhaps such feelings were what first drove me away. Mr. Szol was less of a real person to me than this wife he had mentioned, and I expected to see her spirit walking through the house at any minute. Every creak and pop of the house settling as the night darkened became in my mind the footstep of that dread woman, coming to stand at the foot of the
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bed to look at me, or worse yet to reach down and place her grave-dried hand on my forehead. I pictured her wearing a simple print dress and a severe black scarf, carrying a bundle in her arms (the child).
When I could take no more, I slipped out from between the sheets and took up my clothes and shoes. I wasn’t quite sure where Szol’s bed was in relation to mine, but I knew where the kitchen door was. I crept to the door wincing with every squeak of the floorboards, expecting them to waken the dead, or at least Mr. Szol.
There is no way to describe the care with which I opened that kitchen door. I watched a slight shadow cast by the crys- tal blue moon creep over the width of an entire floorboard as I pulled the door
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by Charles M. Saplak
Spring 1995 ¢ Now & Then e 27
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wide enough to slip through, to freedom.
I didn’t bother to shut the door behind me, and as I crept away from the house, I kept turning to look, expecting Mr. Szol to explode through. I had put enough dis- tance between myself and the house to feel confident enough to sit down and put on my shoes, when a coarse cold hand reached out and grabbed me by the neck.
“Ho, boy, ho,” said Mr. Szol. “You’re headed the wrong way. What you’re looking for’s out back of the house, you know that.”
He had been out walking in the dark- ness. He looked down at me and saw that I was carrying my clothes. “Oh, no, boy, no. Don’t be that way. You’ll end up back on the orphan train again, or worse. You don’t want that.”
That was the first time he ever touched me. Maybe I had expected a thrashing as a matter of course. I knew that I was bet- ter off in the black dirt of Szol’s farm in the sunlight than I would be in the flint or coal. I went back to the bed and turned my attention to the walls papered with old newsprint, picking out scattered pictures of Thimble Theatre and the Katzenjammers, wondering what the words meant.
e worked. From my first day there, I
may not have been worthy of instructions, or even of heavy loads, but I was made to understand that I was ex- pected to be at Szol’s elbow all day and to lend my back to whatever share of the burden I could, and to watch and learn. I was made to understand that my place at the table and my clean bed were some- how earned by my presence in the fields. By that autumn, I was carrying slop to the hogs, feeding chickens and gathering eggs, toting milk pail by pail to the kitchen.
The old man had once told me that he’d come over nearly a decade before from the Hungarian Empire. I had the childish impression that he had escaped that place, and that he could only stay free by working the soil of his farm. I had a vague feeling that a lack of rain or an attack of locusts or weevils would send him back to that prison and put me on the orphan train to Norfolk.
That autumn morning I trudged up the 28
¢ Now & Then « Spring 1995
hill to the barn at Szol’s heels, chewing on a salty piece of bacon wrapped be- tween a folded piece of stale bread. (God! Is it right that a man can still remember, still taste his breakfast seventy-nine years ago and not remember the names of any of the women he’s had in his life?) There were still a few stars visible in the west, while gray dawn gave us some little light with which to negotiate over the ground. The chill in the air that morning made my eyes tear and gave me a sharp numbness in my nose and my cheeks. I remember wishing that I had gloves.
| was made to understand that my place at the table and my clean bed were somehow earned by my presence in the fields. By that autumn, | was carrying slop to the hogs, feeding chickens and gathering eggs, toting milk pail by pail to the kitchen.
In the barn, the old man shooed away the cats. We always had a dozen or so un- derfoot, and Szol was stingy about feed- ing them, probably in the hope that he could make them more terrible on the mice. Some mourning dove or barn pi- geon was cooing in the rafters.
The old man spat in his hands and rubbed his palms together before he took the teats in hand. One of his three cows used to try to prance and crowd him as soon as she heard the stool and pail scrape on the floor beside her. Szol would rock backwards, then crack his forehead into her ribs to calm her.
As each pail filled, he would hand them to me to carry down the hill to our kitchen. As I left the barn that morning, I noticed that the sun had risen and was casting long shadows toward the house. A sliver of gray smoke rose from the stove- pipe. The grass was stiffened with a slight frost and crunched beneath my feet.
Suddenly I saw it, and it was as if I’d glanced through an open doorway into a
world beyond this one. Standing between me and the farmhouse was the most ideal maple tree in the world. It was seventy- five feet tall and was topped with a per- fectly symmetrical crown, the branches spread outward in an uncanny expression of reaching. I was awestruck by the simple and miraculous fact that the tree was so firmly knuckled into the earth (the black dirt to which Szol and I were tied) with the semi-exposed roots characteristic of maples, yet was able to reach up into the very sky.
Even with my quiet ways and overac- tive imagination, I had never even noticed the tree which stood between the barn and the farmhouse before that morning, yet suddenly I was captivated by it. How could such a thing happen?
The turning of leaves in autumn (I have since learned) is a complex interplay of temperature, rainfall, and angle and du- ration of light. The tree had, overnight, gone from a vague rustiness to an appear- ance of cosmic and unquenchable fire. Within the scales of orange, red, and yel- low, the maple had somehow managed to capture and express infinities of tone and chroma. At that single moment of that cold morning, the metal pail handles creasing my palms, I looked up and truly saw.
It’s possible that at one of the various orphanages or mission homes, I had heard one of the Bible tales of a God who mani- fested itself as a burning bush to speak to one of its servants. That morning, as sun warmed the air into a slight breeze which rustled the leaves of fire, I couldn’t be blamed if I, too, heard commands.
Of course, I dropped the pails of milk.
I don’t know how long I stood there before Szol came stepping up behind me, himself carrying two pails, seeing what had apparently happened and saying, “Good God A-Mighty, Goddamned boy!”
The spell was broken. I looked down to where the bluish stuff was soaking into
the mud around my shoes, then looked up into his weathered and timeworn face. The sky behind him was deep, hollow gray. I expected a beating and began to cry, for the first time there.
Szol set down his buckets and sat down on the frosty ground. He slumped over somewhat. He rocked back and forth a little and said, “Oh, I miss her, I miss
TREE OF FIRE
her, and I miss that boy.”
Almost as suddenly as he had sat, he stopped speaking and looked at me again. He jabbed his fingers into the milky mud and then raised them to his mouth. He licked them, then reached out with his other hand and brushed my wet cheeks, touched my chin and forehead.
“We don’t worry about this, no we don’t. We'll make do, yes we will.” His voice was matter-of-fact.
He gave me one of the full buckets, and we set off toward the house. He grabbed my shoulder as we walked, the last time he touched me. I didn’t attempt to explain what I had seen, and he let the matter drop.
This particular part of the story ends on an inevitably sad note. I went to bed that night with the tree still emblazoned in my memory, and fell asleep thinking of it. The next morning I fairly rushed out of the house, eager to see that it was still there, that it hadn’t simply been my imagination.
Overnight there had been a true cold snap, as well as some chill rain. Just in that one night, the tree turned dull and ashen and had dropped more than half its
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leaves, becoming a wooden-knuckled skeleton.
And we continued to work.
ll the rest of my life remains only as vague dates or dead ex- periences, things I know hap- pened, but which I recall without emotion. The various landmark events — when the bank took his farm a few years later, when he put a shotgun in his mouth a few days after that, my years on the iron road, eventually learning to read, the burning smell of World War II, these things are mere facts, and are less and less real to me with time’s passage.
So why does my memory give me that
autumn, that day, that maple, and refuse me so much else? I have many occasions to walk these days, although I can move but slowly. My mills and mines and prop- erties run themselves, like clocks set in motion to outlive their makers. I am not hindered by family or friends. I often move among these hills and forests, and I often look at the trees and allow myself the luxury of trying to remember that par- ticular color, that rustling, that particular reach of the crown of branches. My step is slower, my breath is constantly labored, and my eyesight is clouded. Still, I look for that maple.
This autumn is crisp and sharp, the kind of season that promises a brutal win- ter.
Perhaps this year I shall find it.
a
Charles M. Saplak has published stories in nu- merous magazines and anthologies, including Year’s Best Horror 22, Science Fiction Age, and Tomorrow Speculative Fiction. He cur- rently lives in Radford, Va., with his wife Karen and daughter Charlene.
Barger, from page 6.
cooperation among all the major parties affected by an environmental question or issue, preferably before that question or issue has turned into a knotty problem. “That’s why we’re doing what we’re do- ing on the Coalition for the Blue Ridge Parkway. Let’s get everyone together. If a consortium of environmentalists, govern- ment agencies, tourism people, business leaders, and local government people came to you as a politician and said, ‘I think we ought to do this,’ you’d jump on that so quick. Politicians would love to have those kinds of solutions.”
Barger has few illusions about the fu- ture of endeavors such as the Blue Ridge Parkway or SAMI. “It’s going to be really tough,” he allows. “Those are going to be
hard rows to hoe.”
Jane Harris Woodside is assistant director of the Center for Appalachian Studies and Ser- vices and edits Now & Then.
WVEC, from page 21.
environmental issues — and sometimes win or lose because of them. Drawing on information from WVEC members, Pub- lic Broadcasting System’s WNPB-TV of Morgantown recently established a com- puter bulletin board on the environment which is available to the public. WVEC also has had a regular commentator on West Virginia Public Radio.
Shades of Green
Over WVEC’s five-year history, we have learned several lessons. One is that a group can greatly enhance its effective- ness by being part of a broad-based coali- tion while maintaining its own identity. Another very important lesson that is of- ten painful to learn is that people come in many “shades of green,” referring to the perceived strength and depth of their po- sitions on environmental issues. Being able to be respectful to all, recognizing that each has something to contribute in her or his own way, helps avoid the turf battles that so often tear coalitions apart.
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We have also learned that decision-mak- ing by consensus after lots of brainstorm- ing is a healthy and non-confrontational means of interaction that promotes good feelings and inclusiveness among a di- verse group such as WVEC.
Finally, and probably most impor- tantly, we always let ourselves have fun. Whether we’re hard at work in Charles- ton or we’ve gathered together for our an- nual spring WVEC meeting, which always takes place in Monongahela Na- tional Forest’s wild Appalachian moun- tains, we escape and play together. It renews the spirit, our most important re- source.
pa
Mary J. Wimmer, an activist with the West Virginia Chapter of Sierra Club, is professor of biochemistry at West Virginia University School of Medicine; currently she does re- search on the environmental fate of pesticides used for gypsy moth control.
Spring 1995 ¢« Now & Then e¢ 29
“I Thought the Whole World Was Going to Die” The Story of the American Chestnut
ore and more these days, we find ourselves hiking in search of human and natural
history. We want to know who lived here and how long ago they cut these pines. Sometimes we still reach our destination, in spite of all the time we take to stop and ponder, but after we’ ve come back from the trail, our hikes linger on for days as we try to reconstruct the whole story of all that we’ve seen in the mountains.
Several times over the past three years, we have come across an extra large stump by the side of the trail. Five feet in diam- eter and an ancient-looking ghost gray color, the wood of the stump separates slightly into large, brick-like shapes. “Chestnut,” we whisper. This tree is a story all by itself.
Few people alive today remember what the Southern Appalachian forests looked like with chestnut trees in them. “This is an unbelievable thing: how many chestnuts there were,” remembers Paul Woody, who grew up in Cataloochee, N.C. Yet these enormous trees once com- prised 25 percent of the Eastern hard- wood forest. William MacDonald, professor of plant pathology at West Vir- ginia University in Morgantown, esti- mates that chestnut-dominated forests once covered 200-million acres of land from Maine to Georgia.
Early 16th century Spanish explorers actually thought the chestnut tree was the characteristic tree of the Southern Appa- lachians. “Where there be mountains, there be chestnuts,”’ one of them wrote in a diary. According to Harriet Simpson Arnow, early settlers on the Cumberland Plateau marveled at the sight of chestnut trees in the spring. Entire mountainsides became a sea of white blossoms.
Although 19th century people cut the giant trees for homes and tan bark, in 1897 forester Gifford Pinchot docu-
30 °- Now & Then « Spring 1995
by Margaret Lynn Brown
and Donald Edward Davis
Only ghost-like stumps remain where towering
chestnuts once stood.
mented large chestnut stands across the Southern Appalachians and individual trees 13 feet across, with crowns spread- ing more than 120 feet above the forest floor. Each fall, children who lived in the mountains scooped up chestnuts by the sackful, hung their cloth bags on nails outside the door, and ate nuts until about Christmas time. Some families gathered bushels of chestnut and took them by the wagonload to regional markets.
Most importantly, turn-of-the-century mountain people used chestnuts to feed their hogs. For a month or two each fall, farmers let hogs run in the woods to fat- ten on chestnut mast. When cold weather set in, the hogs were rounded up for slaughter. Chestnut-flavored meat then hung in the smokehouse all winter.
The American chestnut also ranked as the most important wildlife plant of the Eastern United States. Many of the spe- cies that mountain people and Cherokees thought of as game — squirrels, wild tur- key, white-tailed deer, bear, and grouse — in turn depended on chestnuts. “Back when there were chestnuts, bear got so fat they couldn’t run fast; now the poor bear run like a fox,” exclaims Maynard Ledbetter, a former Cades Cove, Tenn., resident.
he lumber barons who cut their way through the Eastern forests
during the early 20th century took most of the giant chestnut trees. Foresters at that time believed that the tall, fast- growing trees would eventually regener- ate across the land. But instead, events thousands of miles away determined the chestnut tree’s fate.
In 1904, a forester at the New York Zoological Park first noticed an immense number of dead and dying chestnut trees on the land he supervised. It took five years for the first general bulletin to ap- pear about a disease new to science, a fungus later named Cryphonectria parasitica. Clinging to nursery stock im- ported from China, the fungus was first introduced into New York around the turn of the century. Microscopic seed-like spores from the fungus germinated in the trees and sent fine threads called myce- lium into the inner bark, killing each cell invaded. In the summer, these cankers ex- uded sticky masses like toothpaste from a tube, sticking to the feet of birds, insects,
animals, and human beings, all of whom carried the fungus farther into the forest. A year after the bulletin came out, Southern Lumberman first referred to a “mysterious blight” in Pennsylvania and New York. “Large timbered sections of [Pennsylvania] are already and in an alarming manner affected by the disease,” the report said. By 1912, all the chestnut trees in New York City were dead, and the chestnut blight had reached 10 states. Frantic scientists in Pennsylvania launched a vigorous control program, which included burning dead trees, moni- toring the disease’s advance, and spraying the cankers. This effort, a scientist later commented, was a little like using toy swords to battle an enemy equipped with atomic bombs. Yet foresters told the pub- lic that “the control and ultimate extermi- nation of [chestnut blight] . . . will sooner or later become a real accomplishment.”
Refusing to heed the foresters’ confi- dent predictions, the relentless disease spread south at an astounding rate of some 50 miles per year. Aided by woods- men who carried it on their shoes and axes, the blight first entered North Caro- lina near Stokes and Surry counties in the
northwestern part of the state about 1913. By 1925, the American chest- nut in the Smokies was doomed, though it still showed few signs of the blight.
In the 1920s, North Carolina lum- bermen used the disease as a last- ditch effort to defeat the proposed Great Smoky Mountains National Park. “Certainly nothing could be more unsightly than the gaunt and naked trunks of these dead trees, standing like skeletons in every vista which the eye turns,” they wrote.
The lumbermen’s concern masked their true motives, as they knew that a chestnut tree was worth money — dead or alive. The blight could not be stopped, but foresters determined quite early that because the wood re- tained its sap for so long, it was pos- sible to manufacture lumber from a dead standing chestnut for anywhere from four to 10 or more years after the death of the tree. In the 1960s, Reuben Robertson, president of Champion Fibre, estimated that the company cut chestnut trees for 20 years after the blight arrived. Eventually, “the pulp yield decreased,” he said, and “then synthetic tannin materials came in, and the price dropped.”
The lumbermen were right, however, about the dead white chestnut skeletons that began to fill the landscape during the Great Depression. “Man, I had the awfulest feeling about that as a child, to look back yonder and see those trees dy- ing,” Joe Tribble, a Dayhoit, Ky., resident recalls. “I thought the whole world was going to die.”
“The worst thing that ever happened in this country was when the chestnut trees died,” said Walter Cole. “Turkeys disap- peared, and the squirrels were not one- tenth as many as there were before.” Although Cole was not the only one to notice such losses, it would be difficult to separate how many animals disappeared because intensive logging practices elimi- nated their habitat and how many were lost because of the chestnut blight.
What is fair to say is that deer, bear, squirrels, turkeys, and songbird popula- tions in unlogged, old growth areas did diminish during the late 1920s and early 1930s. And the loss of the chestnut prob- ably slowed the recovery of wildlife al- ready suffering from loss of habitat due to
Great Smoky Mountains National Park
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Caroline Walker Shelton (left) and her children were photographed by Jim Shelton at the base of a dead chestnut in the Great Smoky Mountains
National Park, circa 1925.
logging operations. Several unusual spe- cies of moths that relied upon chestnut trees probably became extinct or were greatly reduced as a result of the blight. James M. Hill, a biologist at Randolph- Macon College in Lynchburg, Va., as- cribes the slow recovery of wild turkey, goshawks, Cooper’s hawks, cougar, and bobcat in part to this further destruction of an important food source. Unlike other nut-bearing trees, chestnuts bore fruit an- nually and at far greater yields than the oaks and hickories that replaced them.
ven after they died, chestnut
stumps became legendary. One of
the first rangers at the new Great Smoky Mountains National Park recorded a chestnut tree nine feet, eight inches in diameter at a point six feet off the ground. “The hollow portion is so large that [an adult] could stand up in it,” wrote the ranger who discovered it. “This hollow runs more than 50 feet up the trunk and at its narrowest point is not less than 3 feet. This must be the tree of which I heard. A man lost some stock during a snowstorm and later found them safe in a hollow chestnut tree.”
In the 50 years since the last giant
American chestnut tree died, the species
has not actually become extinct be- cause young trees sometimes sprout from the stump. At times the tree will even live long enough to pro- duce chestnuts before it succumbs to the blight. In addition, individuals have occasionally discovered hypovirulent or isolated trees that have developed some natural resis- tance. Several researchers have tried, so far without success, to re- produce hypovirulent trees. Other researchers seek to backcross the American chestnut with Asian chestnut trees to regenerate a resis- tant species that remains genetically similar to the American tree. Within a dozen or so years, organizations such as the Bennington, Vt.-based American Chestnut Foundation may be able to start restoration projects.
, In the mean time, introduced dis- ~* — eases, called “exotics,” continue to threaten the Eastern forests. The gypsy moth, the Southern pine beetle, and the balsam woolly adelgid have also altered the forest, despite control measures taken by the National Forest Service and the Na- tional Park Service. And a whole host of new diseases, including dogwood anthra- cnose, beech bark disease, butternut can- ker, hemlock woolly adelgid, and an unknown black gum disease entered the United States during the 1980s on nursery stock.
“The devastation of the American chestnut by the chestnut blight represents one of the greatest recorded changes in natural plant population caused by an in- troduced organism,” says MacDonald. As we try to re-imagine what our Southern mountains once looked like, the gravity of MacDonald’s words begins to sink in.
a
Margaret Lynn Brown and Donald Edward Davis were historical consultants for Hiking Trails of the Smokies (reviewed on page 38). Davis is writing an environmental history of the Southern Appalachians, Where There Be Mountains, and Brown is currently completing Smoky Mountain Story: A Chronicle of Twen- tieth Century Environmental Change, based partly on research she did as a 1994 Center for Appalachian Studies and Services Fellow.
e Now & Then e 31 Rn eR RR Re rt en ee
Spring 1995
The Day the Hawks Flew
by Arthur S. Smith
Nancy Jane Earnest
32 ¢ Now & Then
e Spring 1995
gloomy, overcast day in late September of 1987 found
three of us huddled around the old fire tower on Clinch
Mountain above Mendota, Virginia. We sat on the bare sandstone outcrops, enveloped in fog, with the nearby micro- wave relay station humming away.
This was the time and this was the place to see migrating broadwinged hawks. Unfortunately, hawks don’t fly on gloomy, overcast days. Scottie and I were there primarily because the third person was a local newspaper reporter, and we did not want to miss this opportunity to educate more people about na- ture and hawks. Besides, hawk-watchers are eternal optimists — you never know when it might clear up.
On vacation from his job at a local chemical plant, Eugene B. Scott, better known as Scottie, was the ringleader, chief greeter, and official reporter for the hawk watch at this viewing spot. His enthusiasm and warm personality inspired us all. Local residents who used to shoot hawks on sight were drawn to