Tom Dooley

Well, You’ve probably heard the old folk song that was popular in the fifties Hang Down your head Tom Dooley recorded by the Kingston Trio. It is the true story of Tom Dula and Laura Foster.

The story goes that Laura and Tom were engaged but Tom had another lover, Anne Melton. She was jealous of Tom’s other relationship and it was suspected she killed Laura Foster and Tom took the blame.

After the murder Tom walked through from the mountains of Wilkes County North Carolina into Johnson County, TN. He stopped at the home of Col. James Grayson. His shoes were all but off his feet.


Colonel Grayson hired him to work on his farm for a few days in order to pay for a new pair of shoes. After he had paid off his shoes he continued his walk but Wilkes County authorities were hot on his trail. They stopped at Colonel Grayson’s who reported that Tom had indeed been there.

Col. Grayson agreed to join in the manhunt. He was walking through Doe Valley not far from where I grew up and happened upon Tom who was cooling his feet in Doe Creek. He took Tom back to his farm at Trade TN and returned him to Wilkes County NC for trial. Tom Dula was tried, convicted and was hanged on May 1, 1868 for the murder of Laura Foster.

Many variations of the song have been written, here is the Kingston Trio ‘s 1958 version.

Tom Dooley

There've been many songs written about the eternal triangle
This next one tells the story of a Mr Grayson, a beautiful woman
And a condemned man named Tom Dooley...
When the sun rises tomorrow, Tom Dooley... must hang...

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Hang down your head and cry
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Poor boy, you're bound to die

I met her on the mountain
There I took her life
Met her on the mountain
Stabbed her with my knife

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Hang down your head and cry
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Poor boy, you're bound to die

This time tomorrow
Reckon where I'll be
Hadn't a-been for Grayson
I'd a-been in Tennessee

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Hang down your head and cry
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Poor boy, you're bound to die

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Hang down your head and cry
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Poor boy, you're bound to die

This time tomorrow
Reckon where I'll be
Down in some lonesome valley
Hangin' from a white oak tree

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Hang down your head and cry
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Poor boy, you're bound to die

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Hang down your head and cry
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Poor boy, you're bound to die
Poor boy, you're bound to die
Poor boy you're bound to die
Poor boy, you're bound to die...


And That’s It For Today.

Fiddling Fred Price

Well we have had our one day of spring and now we are stuck right back in the middle of winter with rain cold and below freezing temperatures.

Anyone that knows me or been around me knows I am a big fan of both country and bluegrass music. Growing up in Tennessee once a year the Fiddler's Convention would come to town with such great pickers like Tom Ashley, Doc Watson, G. B. Grayson, fred Price and Clint Howard and others I can't remember. Mountain City is known for its musicians. Most of them went on to have recording careers in the 30's 40's and 50's.


Fred's career began when he was a small boy and his dad brought home a guitar and thought he should learn to play it. He was picking tunes before supper. Clint's mother sang the old timey songs and Clint was taught to sing and play the guitar. They in turn instilled their love of music in their children.

My dad played harmonica and he loved to play. Every so often Fred Price, his son Kenny, daughter Lois and Clint Howard and his son Clarence would show up at our front door with their music instruments, ask my mother for a couple kitchen chairs. They would then proceed to sit down in our front room and play a three hour concert. That was some of the best bluegrass music I have ever heard.

Fred and Clint were known in the area as great musicians. They toured with Doc Watson and Tom Ashely and toured the country playing at The Smithsonian in Washington D C, Carneigie Hall as well as the University of California.

Click on any photo for larger image

They made some records and were featured in a story in Life Magazine. I believe they may have played the World's Fair when it was held in Knoxville, TN.

Clint Howard still sings some with Doc Watson, Fred and Clarence now play with a bluegrass band in heaven, Kenny and Lois still play together.

When I was in Tennessee here is a photo I snapped of Kenny Price teaching his great nephew Andrew to play the fiddle. And the memory of Fred Price lives on.

That's it for today.

Signs Of Spring

Photo compliments of Al and Kelly)

Well, Another year and I slept right through spring again. It officially arrived at 4:44 AM. I fullly intended to get up but didn't. Another thing I can blame on my old age.

The first day of spring set me to thinking about all the work we did to get the ground prepared for planting when we were growing up.

Before winter was over we would plant the tobacco bed so the plants would be ready to set in the late spring. Always at the end of the bed there was a bed of lettuce sown. The canvas cover and the first warm spring days acted like a hot house and before you knew it we would have a nice crop of lettuce. After a long winter of eating canned foods that early lettuce was always a spring treat. We also planted lettuce in the garden so we were able to enjoy it longer.

Another spring treat was being able to walk barefoot in the freshly plowed ground. All our plowing and planting was done with horses. After the plowing was done, came the harrowing, the disking, the rocking, the dragging, the laying off and finally the planting. It was hard work but we didn't think of it as that. It was a necessity in order to have food on the table for the next year. It was always fun to watch for the bits of green as the plants came shooting up through the ground.

After the spring rains came you could always find us sloshing through the fields down by the creek looking for frogs or fish or gathering a boquet of spring flowers. Wherever the mud was was where you would find us.

Sometimes we would go out foraging for different kinds of plants to cook for greens. There would be dandelion shoots, colt's foot, pokeberry, plantain, lamb's quarters and dock. We would have a whole sack full of these. My mother would clean them and cook them up and we would have greens and cornbread for supper.

Another plant we would gather would be creases which were kind of a dry land water cress (DK). They usually grew in the tobacco fields or corn patches and as soon as the snow was gone you would see them begin to appear. You would also see all the neighbors out in the fields gathering the creases. Burlap sacks full of them. Some for eating today and some for canning.

Creases are flat to the ground and are thin leafed. Those are the kind you wanted to gather. The other kind were broad leafed and bitter when cooked. The old timers called them "He" creases and "She creases". You wanted to be sure to get the "she" ones. You also had to be sure to get them when they were young before they started to bud out to bloom. You would take a knife and cut them right off at the ground leaving the root. Shake out all the leaves and dirt.

After you got your sack of creases home you would cut out the center with your knife and put all the leaves in the big dishpan and rinse them to get all the grit out. You had to wash them three or four times to make sure the grit was gone. Then they went into the big stewpot with some water and you parboil them for probably half hour or so. You then take a skillet and fry a few pieces of streak-ed meat or side pork to get grease then you put your creases in the grease and fry them up until they are tender.

A bowl of creases, a little vinegar, some soupbeans and fried taters and a hunk of cornbread and you have yourself a mighty fine dinner. Even the king would want to sit at your table.

Today, you can find creasey greens in the supermarket in the canned vegetable section but they're not as good as the "pick your own" kind.

That's it for today.

Love Letters

Well, today is about the same as yesterday. We are promised sun today ans a temperature of near 50 degrees. Spring must not be far behind.

I have a special story today. It was not written by me but by a friend of mine, Ruby Coleman. We are both genealogists, she is the professional one. I am just a wantabe. She had written a story about her grandpaents quite a while ago. At the time I thought it was the neatest story because I knew both the people and it was evident from seeing them together how much they loved each other. They lived at the very end of Sprucey Holler next to Iron Mountain. The school bus always turned around in their driveway everyday. I went to school with some of their grandchildren. Recently I reconnected with the story and with Ruby's permission I am printing it here. Here is a link to her blog address. http://genalines.blogspot.com/

Steve and Nanne Horne

A tribute to my maternal grandmother, Nanne Lewis Horne, born 1 March 1889 in Ashe Co., North Carolina to Rev. Harvey Lewis and Mary Caroline "Callie" Miller. On 13 June 1909 she married Samuel Stephen "Steve" Horne at Ashland, Ashe Co., North Carolina. They lived most of their married life in Sprucie Hollow, Johnson Co., Tennessee. She passed over on 30 October 1965.

It was the summer of 1959 and very hot and humid in northeast Tennessee. My clothes clung to me from morning to night and chigger bites between my toes reminded me that I should not have gone barefooted. I was 16 years old, visiting my maternal grandparents who would soon be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. We arrived early from Nebraska to help with preparations. In addition to my parents and another set of grandparents, there were relatives from others states ... cousins, aunts and uncles.

For someone with a budding interest in genealogy, the vast array of relatives, all eager to visit and share stories and information, was an added bonus. My mind filled with questions and my hand quickly wrote responses as I visited with my grandparents and others. Not only was I learning generations of names and events, but stories to go with the names.

One morning the men went to the tobacco fields and the women prepared for a trip to town. My 17 year old cousin and I had eagerly awaited this day. Somehow we convinced our mothers that we should remain behind at Granny and Grandpa's house. Our story must have been convincing and the timing was right. As soon as the cars pulled away and rounded the curve, we put our plan into action.

In the corner of a bedroom there was an old trunk piled high with neatly folded quilts. One by one, we lifted the quilts and placed them carefully on the bed. Lifting the trunk lid we saw small bundles of letters neatly tied with delicate blue ribbons. Our fingers anticipated the joy of reading something old, perhaps secretive and revealing, as we united the bows on one bundle of letters.

They were written in 1908 and 1908 to Grandpa by his sweetheart who eventually would become our Granny. Line by line she wrote about her love for him and how she wished they could marry. Her father, a Baptist minister in North Carolina, had concerns about the marriage. He opposed it because Grandpa had been living in the "wilds" of Oregon herding sheep.

Another letter spelled out Granny's plan. They would elope. Grandpa was living in Tennessee and would come to get her in North Carolina so they could run away and marry. Yet another letter sadly told how somebody had heard of her elopement plan and told her father.

Watching the clock we realized that the reading of Granny's letters would resume at another time. The men would be in from the fields and the women would soon arrive from their trip to town. Carefully we put the letters back into a bundle and tied them with the blue ribbons. The quilts were placed on top of the trunk. Then we realized what we had read ... OUR Granny had wanted to elope.

We wanted to read more letters. Excitement over what we had read led us later that day to confess to our mothers about our foray. They were also interested in the letters, but thought we should have asked Granny's permission to open the trunk. One of the mothers told her what we had done. She was unhappy and eventually removed the bundled letters from the trunk and burned them.

Fortunately I did not witness the burning of the letters in the wood stove. I did not see the pain in her eyes as she realized that her privacy had been invaded by her granddaughters. We never spoke of that event again. The letters were burned and gone forever.

The anniversary celebration took place as planned. People gathered to eat and laugh and wish Granny and Grandpa many more years of married life. They smiled and held hands and occasionally Granny would wipe tears from her eyes. Afterwards we all went back home to our own families and lives.

Recently a cousin, going through her late mother's possessions, found a letter that Granny had written about the anniversary celebration. In the letter Granny told about their gifts and people who attended. She described their cake as being two layered with two white bells and gold clappers in them with a "50" on top. In her words, "Me and Pa cut the cake. It cost $30.00 some dollars and I fed him a bit and he fed me a bit. ... Pa and me got a bite of a wedding cake. Had to wait 'til our children furnished it for us."

Times change through the years. At their anniversary I would have thought it amusing that they had no wedding cake at their wedding. Today I find it sad that they had to wait fifty years to celebrate the life they had planned to have together even if it meant eloping.

Through the years Granny wrote letters to me. The two letters that I kept are very special. She and Grandpa agreed on about everything except which state they preferred and politics. Granny was born in North Carolina, but preferred Tennessee. Grandpa was born in Tennessee, but preferred North Carolina. Granny was a Republican and Grandpa was a Democrat. They hashed these issues over and over. In the spring of 1964 Granny wrote to me about voting and how special it was for a woman to be able to vote. She also stressed that I should vote for Barry Goldwater who was running on the Republican ticket for President.

The last letter I received from her was mailed the middle of June 1964. She told me that Grandpa was sick and that she wanted me to visit them in July. That was the last time I would see Grandpa alive. He died the following month. In her letter she told me that she was also not well and that she felt a "soarness" in her chest and could hardly breathe. That was also the last time I saw her alive as she died of a heart attack on 30 October 1965.

This letter is treasured, as she had treasured her love letters to Grandpa. The memories are still vivid as I recall those bundles of letters tied up with tiny blue ribbons. This was part of a grandmother I never knew and will never know as the letters are all gone now except for the two I have saved. I would gladly trade my two letters just to hold her hand and kiss her face and tell her that I love her. For the time being I have to be content with only Granny's letters.

I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did.

That's It For Today.

No Corn Flakes!

Well, the weather is the same doesn’t seem to be warming up much and we haven’t seen the sun for days -- I know spring will be here sometime.

I spent most of my day in a “genealogy” mood… I love doing family history and have been working at it for years. It has only been lately that I started documenting my stories. I was talking to my sister June about some stories. She was telling me a story about my grandfather which was cute so I thought you might enjoy it too.

We spent a lot of time at our grandparents when we were growing up. She and another one of my sisters had gone to spend the night with our cousins who also lived there.

We were never allowed to have any food after we ate supper but my cousins and my sisters decided they wanted some dry cornflakes to eat. They snuck into the kitchen and got a bowl of dry corn flakes. Two of them went into the house to open the back door to the bedroom so they could sneak in their “goodies” . Two of them went out the kitchen door around to the bedroom to deliver the bowl.

Well, it so happened just as they rounded the corner of the house there stood a man in the yard. They had no idea who he was other than he was really tall and he stepped back over the fence and took off down the road from where he came. It startled the two with the cornflakes and they turned to run, It had been raining and there was a drainage ditch and both of them fell down. There went their corn flakes!!

They tried to slip into the house unnoticed to change their clothes but were caught by my Grandpa.

“Where have you young’uns been and how did you get your clothes wet and muddy?”, he asked.

“Well”, says my sister “we had to go to the outhouse and we fell down on the path”.

“What in the devil did you take that bowl to the toilet for?”

When they couldn’t come up with an explanation ---off came his belt --- and you can guess what happened next. The two in the bedroom got off scot free and nobody got any corn flakes.

That’s it for today!

Happy St. Patricks Day

Happy St Patricks Day!!

Well , today I am cooking corned beef and cabbge along with some carrots and baby red potatoes. Traditionial Irish Dinner to be sure.

May your day be touched by a bit of Irish luck,brightened by a song in your heart,and warmed by the smilesof the people you love.

Dance as if no one were watching,
Sing as if no one were listening,
And live every day as if it were your last.

May the lilt of lush laughter lighten your ever load,
May the midst of Irish magic shorten every road.
May you taste the sweetest pleasuresthat fortune ever bestowed,
And may all your friends remember all the favors you are owed.

McQuillan walked into a bar and ordered martini after martini, each time removing the olives and placing them in a jar. When the jar was filled with olives and all the drinks consumed, he started to leave. "S'cuse me," said a customer, who was puzzled over what McQuillan had done. "What was that all about?" "Nothing," he replied, "my wife just sent me out for a jar of olives

The Unicorn

A long time ago when the Earth was green, There was more kinds of animals then you've ever seen. And they'd run around free while the world was being born. The loveliest of all was the Unicorn! There was green alligators and long necked geese, Hump back camels and chimpanzees.Cats and rats and elephants but sure a you're born, The loveliest of all was the Unicorn! But the Lord seen some sinnin' and it caused him pain. He says, "Stand back, I'm gonna make it rain. So hey, Brother Noah, I'll tell you what to do. Go and build me a floating zoo." "You'll take two alligators and a couple of geese, Two hump back camels and two chimpanzees. Two cats, two rats, two elephants but as sure as you're born, Noah, don't you forget my unicorns!" Well, Noah looked out through the drivin' rain, But the unicorns was hidin'-playin' silly games. They were kickin' and a-splashin' while the rain was pourin', Oh them foolish unicorns. "So you take two alligators and a couple of geese, Two hump back camels and two chimpanzees. Two cats, two rats, two elephants but as sure as you're born, Noah, don't you forget my unicorns." And the the ark started movin' and it drifted with the tide, And the unicorns looked up from the rock and cried. And the water came up and sort of floated them away, That's why you've never seen a unicorn to this day. You'll see a lot of alligators and a whole mess of geese, You'll see hump back camels and chimpanzees. You'll see cats and rats and elephants but as sure as you're born, You're never gonna see no unicorn.

An Old Irish Blessing

May the road rise up to meet you.May the wind always be at your back.May the sun shine warm upon your face,and rains fall soft upon your fields.And until we meet again,May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Go mbeannai Dia duit(May God Bless You)

Mish Mash

Well, just in case you have noticed Ihaven't posted for awhile. I could blame it on a lot of things , however, for today I will just call it a brain freeze. So starting today i will try to thaw out that portion of this old brain and get it working again.

Life around Spokane is kinda dull. Even the weather news is dull. Its the same old thing. Temperatures go up and down. One day we had 2 above and the next we have 3 below and then we got 4 inches of snow. One day its sunny. The next day we are in a pea soup fog. Darn weatherman cannot make up his mind.

I heard from my baby sister. She had just returned from another trip. This time she went to the Ohio Amish Country. She loves to take the guided air conditioned tour buses and has traveled thousands of miles this way. She meets new and interesting people and loves it. Me, I prefer to go where I want to go and stop when I want to. That's why my motorhome will fit my needs. I don't mind riding one of those big grey dogs (Greyhound) once in awhile. June says there is a difference between the Pennsylvania Amish and the Ohio Amish Country. She says she prefers the Pennsylvania Amish.

I have a couple more little chicken stories for you today.

Here’s a cute story about my sister and me. My grandmother had some pullets (young chickens) she had raised from baby chicks. They were getting to be about fryer size. The garden was just coming up and the chickens had been getting in her garden. She told me and my sister “I’m gonna kill those old chickens if they get in my garden. Don’t you young’uns let them in there”. Well, my sister and I were playing house in the barnyard when we looked up and saw one of the pullets in the garden. So we chased it in the chicken house and beat it to death with a tobacco stick. We went to our grandma and said “We killed that chicken that was getting in your garden”. Of course, she had to go get it. Needless to say she cleaned it and cooked it and we had fried chicken for dinner that night.

Another “chicken” story was told to me by a friend of mine. It seems she and her cousin were at their grandmom’s and they were swinging in the porch swing eating some cookies. The crumbs dropped on the floor and one of the chickens jumped on the porch to get the crumbs. As they were swinging she kicked that old chicken with her shoe and killed it “graveyard dead”. They had chicken and dumplings that night but neither she nor her cousin could eat a bite of that old chicken.

That's it for today