Stories from the past

My Mother passed about three years ago and I still have a lot of her personal things in the building. Occasionally I will find something that brings back old stories. My maternal grandmother was born 1903-1905, can't say for sure. She was raised in Buncombe Co. NC, on Butler Mt., just a little southeast of Asheville, NC. It was a hard scrabble and harsh life. She had a older brother that would come to our house and visit for a week at the time every couple years. He would set around and tell stories. Their last name was Ruff and they pretty much lived up to it. This is one of the best.

When he was a young boy he was at the local trading post when a wagon came in. He described them as hard dirty rough men with long beards and hair dressed mostly in buckskins. He said they lived way back in the mountains and came in a couple times a year to trade. They had herbs, bear and deer hides and wanted salt, coffee, gunpowder and lead. He described their rifles as long black heavy bear guns that loaded from the front, almost long as they were tall. They carried the powder in old cow horns and a bag for the balls. The store owner knew them and would welcome them but the locals avoided them.

This was probably a 120 years ago, must have been some of the last true mountain men in the area. Still living like the 1820's.

Alvin York and his neighbors were using front loaders when the U.S. entered WW1. They thought the war was against the British at first.

I love reading about stuff like this, I find it very interesting.

Great story. Great memories. Makes me think of my grand parents.

Hey Beemer. Was you at Hickory yesterday?

Sorry about your Mom Beemer.
Thanks for the story.

jsizemore, no, do we know each other.

WILCO, I need to start writing this stuff down. Crazy kinfolks make for some interesting stories and a few war stories thrown for good measure.

I read an article several years back of someone working in the Appalachian Mts in 1900's, maybe Kephart. Anyway I can't find it again, it was about people living in the mountains far from any civilization. They were very independent, backwards and self reliant. Basically living in the early 1800's.

Many people really need to record their old family stories. I think it is said that as long as the stories are told and the old peoples names are mentioned they still live.

Just wondered if you had been at the groundhog shoot Saturday morning and I might have passed you.

One of my grandfathers younger friends told me how as a teen ager during the depression and into WWII they resorted to muzzle loaders to hunt with as black powder was still available He even showed me several civil war Muskets that they had reamed to 20 Gauge smooth bores .

My Maternal Grandfather was born in 1898. He told me that when he was about 10 his father took an old ML rifle to a gunsmith and had the rifling cut out so he could use shot. He was not a gun person but did explain to me how the rifling messes with the shot.

Another family member said his grandfather used a hawg rifle well into the 30's. They tried to kill a big hog with a 22, six shots didn't do the job. Grandpa said I'll fix'em. He pulled out the old rifle and poured in one charge, looked at the hog and poured in another. When the smoke cleared the hog had dropped in it's tracks. The rifle was, he thought a 30 something cal. and the charger about the size of a thimble.

beemer,, we are also neighbors.

I know several folks with the last name Ruff.

I know where Butler Mtn is.

And I still know a few folks that are considered old timey mountain folks that come close to the description you gave. But instead of front stuffers,, they now use more modern cartridge guns. One of them died a few years ago. He was living in a cave locally.
I was born in the original Bat Cave Valley Clinic,, built by the mountain folks in the early 1950's. (Dr. George Bond was the driving person behind it's building, and was it's first doctor.)

And speaking of front stuffers,, or the modern term, muzzleloaders,,, my son's FIL is world renown,, Jim Chambers of Chamber's Flintlocks. My DIL is the president of the company. From Candler up until just recently. My DIL has been on a couple of Tundra Swan hunts,, and her last swan was taken with a 10 ga. Flintlock. Never heard of that happening in any modern times. :D

Yep,, old timers, and especially mountain folks,, and the stories of their lives can be quite interesting.

Good stories, reminds me of a friend I met on a construction job in Virginia about 1974.
He and his brother were taking vacation to go home and install indoor plumbing in their parents' house.
He said they live back up in the hills outside Sunbright Tenn.
I was 19 at the time he was in his early 30s and amazed at no indoor plumbing.
He would tell some great stories about he and his brother hunting and fishing.
He would school you really quick in a horseshoe or washer game.

Danmat, when we moved to this area of the county in the 60's there were a good many families that had no indoor plumbing. One didn't even have a outhouse. Dad built a simple block house but had two baths, people had a hard time believing that.

Contender1, I called Chambers while close to Asheville a couple years ago. Talked to a lady about a lock but they didn't have any in stock. Ended up buying a Chambers from DGW. Have a Rice barrel but haven't started it yet. My Mother was in contact with some older Ruff's from the area a good many wears ago but most have likely passed by now.

Anyone have a good one to tell, probably do another shortly myself.

beemer,, the lady you most likely spoke with is my DIL. She took over as president of the company a while back, and handles much of the day-to-day stuff. And especially phone orders.

Chambers Flintlocks has now officially moved to S.C. Long story,, but soon,, Jim will be there as well. He's in the process of selling his house in Candler,, and has already made a deal on a house in SC near the new shop.

Old timey stories,, let's see.

In my area,, there is a mountain called "Rumbling Bald." It got it's name from a long ago earthquake. The face of the mountain is a large granite rock. That's the "bald" portion.
The "rumbling" part came from an earthquake that happened in the early 1800's. Apparently,, there used to be a preacher who lived up on the mountain. He was well known far & wide. Kinda tall & black headed. An imposing figure. Well, the quake happened,, and when he came down the mountain following it,, his hair had turned snow white. And all the old timers here would talk about how he could really preach after that event. I've got good friends,, who's relatives have shared that story for generations. They ALL swore it was a true story.

In 1976, 22 yrs old, I was duck hunting on the shores of the Snake River outside Blackfoot Idaho. We were on the State side the opposite was Reservation land. It was a cool November morning and I had on brown insulated coveralls, probably Walls as I could not afford Carharts, A friend and I watched as the fog rolled in, and when it left 2 native young men ran about 25 horses into the river to water them. We had ground decoys set up several hundred yards away but could see them clearly. One had a breech cloth and no shirt or shoes, the other had Levi's and boots but no shirt. They watered their pony's and left in about 2 minutes. Both were riding bareback with hackamores. I told Danny those boys were tougher than I was and he said "tougher than me, too".

My Dad owned several Harley motor cycles before WW2, a 1927, 1928 and a '36 Knuck. He bought the Knuck almost new, traded the '28 and gave $350. They allowed $25 for the '28. Too give a perspective he was making $700 a year working in a cotton mill. He paid for the bike by selling corn liquor his BIL made. He was raised in Taylorsville, NC but living in Troutman, NC. Once a week he would ride the bike to Taylorsville get a load. Could pack a case of quart jars in the bags. There was a old road house on US 21 between Troutman and Statesville called Doodlums. Dad would peddle the shine out there on Saturday night.

He Met Mom while living there, returned after the war and got married. I was born there in '52. He moved back to Alexander in 1963.

There are a TON of moonshine stories in our mountains! Good one!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by MT Gianni

In 1976, 22 yrs old, I was duck hunting on the shores of the Snake River outside Blackfoot Idaho. We were on the State side the opposite was Reservation land. It was a cool November morning and I had on brown insulated coveralls, probably Walls as I could not afford Carharts, A friend and I watched as the fog rolled in, and when it left 2 native young men ran about 25 horses into the river to water them. We had ground decoys set up several hundred yards away but could see them clearly. One had a breech cloth and no shirt or shoes, the other had Levi's and boots but no shirt. They watered their pony's and left in about 2 minutes. Both were riding bareback with hackamores. I told Danny those boys were tougher than I was and he said "tougher than me, too".

---

I saw similar up in British Columbia, at Ft. Steele. Mixed rain and snow, all the non-natives had on every stitch they owned. The natives were in shorts, sandals, and t-shirts, apparently perfectly comfortable. Coming home, there were kids playing in the river, with ice flowing by. I have a native friend up by Eureka who is outside bare chested in freezing rain and snow, BBQing when I visit.

My dad spent the first half of his youth in southern Kentucky, with the second half in Mooresville Indiana, some time around the 1930s. Now this also happens to be John Dillinger's home town. My dad told me of a day when he was meandering down a long erosion valley when he heard a god awful noise that he really couldn't find words for, and when he investigated, he found a big pile of fresh fired brass! To his end of his life, he believed that he almost met Dillinger. As a side note, my paternal grandma was lifelong friends with Dillinger's mom, and said more than once that Dillinger's mom never believed that he committed the crimes that he was accused of!

Speaking of a pile brass, my first wife's father was in the Ozark Division in WW2. He rarely spoke of any of his experiences. He was a great guy and we became very close. I would help him put up swarms of honey bees when no one else would. While setting watching a swarm go in a hive he just started talking. This is his story.

He was given six German prisoners to take back to a holding compound about three miles back. They would start to scatter on the road, he rounded them up and they did it again. He was carrying a BAR and did a mag dump down the tarmac, dropped the mag and popped another in. Said you could have planted taters in it. I can't write his exact words but he basically told them they had killed his brother in Italy and didn't really care if he took them back or not. Said he doesn't know if they understand English, tone of voice or BAR. One of the six had more rank, he walked to the left of center and barked a few orders. They formed two abreast and three deep and goose stepped all the way to the compound.

Had a high school math teacher who went on to teach at our local university. A really good guy. Also knew a sweet little old lady who had grown up on the same ridge as my teacher. She was riminising one time and remarked that "Charlie was a scamp when he was little, and his daddy made the best liquor that was ever in this world".
Another time, she told that, when she was a girl, she had seen a fellow steal the nickels off a dead mans' eyes. That was before undertakers became a local phenom.
In the 1950's, we lived on a bad curve on the main road about a mile out of town, and the turnoff that led to that ridge. Every now and then, I would hear a car take that curve in the wee small hours, at a speed that would scare you. There was more than one operation on that, and other ridges out that way.

My dad was a fan of, ''National Geographic'' magazine and would often buy their books. One of them was about the people of Appalacia, printed in the 1970's. And yes, there were people living there like it was 1800, independent and happy to be so! I wonder if I have that book...

DONNIE LAW, a local historian of sorts, has recorded dozens if not hundreds of stories from our area around Appalachia and posted them up on YouTube. this is the kind of stuff that needs to be recorded to preserve the real history of the people.

I have several Dad stories, was pretty much a character, especially before WW2. Here is another.

There a park in Alexander Co ,NC called Rocky Face Mountain Recreational Area. It has hiking trails. In the 1920's till the 1940's it was a rock quarry, the granite was blown off the face and crushed into gravel. Not many are aware of it being worked buy black prisoners.There was a small gage track that carried the gravel to the main line. My Grandfather was in charge of the blasting and dynamite and had keys to the storage building. Here is where it gets interesting.

My Grandfather lived at the foot of the mountain on the other side. My Dad was about 6 yo at the time. He knew where the keys were kept so on Sundays when no one was working he would slip over to the quarry and get in the dynamite shack. He would cap and fuse half dozen sticks, three in each hip pocket. Then he would walk over the ridge, climb up in a tree, tie it down and light the fuse, climb down and watch the top of the tree blown off.

Can you just imagine a 6 yo walking around with dynamite today. The look on some OSHA employee's would be priceless. :)

Funny,, I know folks who used to blow stuff with dynamite,, and taught their kids as well. I think the youngest I ever knew of was about 10 when he was getting started blowing stuff up. He passed away a few years back,, at the age of 71.

The dynamite story reminds me of one from the not quite distant past. While I was a student at CST, Jack Belk was one of the instructors. He had gone to school there several years earlier and went into the mountains one weekend with one of the other students who was a demolitions specialist when he served in Vietnam. The guy found a tall dead tree that was solid enough to climb. One he got near the top he took out a roll of det cord and wrapped it around near the top. Then, as he descended, he strung the cord down in a straight line then wrapped it around again at regular intervals. One he got to the bottom he backed of a ways and shot the cord. Instant firewood of the lengths he wanted, no splitting needed.

East TN has always had a reputation for moonshine. My wife's uncle used to drive loads for the shine makers in Newport. He was a tough old bird and no one had the courage to ask about his days in the moonshine business.

Years ago a local shine maker was well known for his work. The ATF kept after him but never did catch him. He aged out and passed away. About a year later his son called the local ATF office and offered them a trade: "If you promise that you won't arrest me, I can show you where he made his moonshine." Of course the agents wanted to destroy that operation so they agreed to the offer. The son still lived in the father's house and directed the officers to that location. When the officers arrived the son led them to the barn behind the house. He walked into the barn and showed them where the "false floor" into the dug-out "basement" was located. When the agents entered that basement they found one of the most modern and oversize stills they had ever seen. Rather than destroy the still they disassembled it and reassembled it for future generations to view. The son never heard from them again.

Beemer, Z"L. "May your mothers memory be for a blessing", and it is.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Reg

…. I think it is said that as long as the stories are told and the old peoples names are mentioned they still live.

---

That’s the truth.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Ithaca Gunner

My dad was a fan of, ''National Geographic'' magazine and would often buy their books. One of them was about the people of Appalacia, printed in the 1970's. And yes, there were people living there like it was 1800, independent and happy to be so! I wonder if I have that book...

---

There is a community near me that half the town has no electricity, only generators and solar. Most haul in water and have outhouses. Many are just weekend cabins but not all. About 225 5-10 acre lots with no power. This is in 2024.