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The Herald is now it its seventh year, soon to be commencing a fourth year
on the net. Some of the little stories are remembered from the ad-hoc
printing of the paper.
We hope you enjoy these tales.
FROM EARLIER TIMES - GIVE US NEELY* OR GIVE US BIGGER
FROGS
Dear Editor,
The man talking about the road from Grantsville to Cleo Gainer's doesn't
know the half of it. The only way
travel is possible from Mr. Gainer's to Mt. Zion is in an extra high wheel
truck or to follow a Bull Noser to take
the rocks and clods out of the way. The rocks are so big they have been
known to puncture a spare tire on a
truck. Do not try to travel this road without extra high wheels, a bull noser,
plenty of tire pumps, extra tires, and
a good bathing suit, and BE SURE that you are a good swimmer. Ira
Hardman has tried to keep the road supplied
with frogs to drink the water, but the poor froggies have all bursted long
ago. If something isn't done pretty soon,
we are going to trade our cars for boats. The only man that tried to travel
this road last winter got stuck in the
mud and it took four big husky men half of a day to get him out. Neely
has sent three culverts for the road below
Grant Roberts but the men working are not very good swimmers, and they
are afraid to venture any further
down. We sure are tired of promises and the sound of bursting frogs. So we
say, "Lord, give us Neely or give us
bigger and tougher frogs." - A MAN WITHOUT A ROAD
The Calhoun Chronicle, May 2,
1940
*Refers to Sen. Matthew M. Neely, a leading politician of the time.
SIMON GREATHOUSE ESCAPES INJURY
Million mile walker, Simon Greathouse, was less for wear a few weeks ago
when he tangled with Dianne
Weaver's electric fence. Dianne placed the fence around her garden to
keep the deer out. Simon, a regular
traveler on the Hur-Pine Creek Road, had stopped to chat while she was
gardening on her knees. She gave
several verbal warnings about electric fences as Simon circled the patch. "I
know all about them electric fences,"
he said. A few minutes later he bent over the fence, touching his neck
against the wire. The shock sent him
spinning over the hill. "Good woman, why would you have that thing
turned up that high?" Ms. Weaver replied
that the fence was to keep out wild animals. Simon picked himself up and
walked on down the road in a meditative
state, to continue down to Lexie Miller's to get his usual bologna sandwich
and go to church at Cremo. (1996)
FITZWATER'S TRACTOR STOLEN FROM YARD
Rick Fitzwater, well-known Calhoun banking maggot and resident of East
Hur, was scouring the neighborhood
last week for his stolen tractor. It had been down for repairs, parked in
Fitzwater's yard. After accusing Bob
Weaver of hiding the tractor and spending several hours of fretting and
calling, the tractor was discovered lodged
against a tree down the mountain above Rowels Run, having broken away.
No brakes. (1996)
MAYOR SLIDER HIRES WIFE
Dottie Hersman Slider, the first lady of Hur, not only hit the big 5-0, but she
has assumed the duties as a mounted
police person for the Village of Hur. Slider appointed his wife last week
at the monthly meeting of the Social
Improvement and Upward Mobility Council, using money from President
Clinton's "cop on every corner"
program. He denied charges of favoritism, stating she was the best
qualified. Dottie was seen on a recent night
traveling up and down Hur Hill on her trusty stead, lantern in hand, singing
old Elvis Presley songs to keep
awake. She did report to The Herald that she is learning the lyrics of '"Bad
boys, bad boys.." The Council has
requested she be enrolled in a sensitivity and diversity course, which should
help her to deal with the local
redneck culture. Local educators are developing a communication course
called Hurbonics 101, which will
interpret "hillbilly" white mountain English which tends to slow speech, slur
words, and utter them in short,
unintelligent statements. This form of the spoken word is confusing to
non-residents who have moved to Hur.
Slider's training will help bridge the gap. (1996)
THE COMING OF CHRIST
People used to hear and see things they don't hear and see in modern times.
Hollis
Kerby heard an angel choir singing when his wife, Bell died in the late
1940's. In 1956, being a student at Calhoun
County High School, I borrowed an amplifier and some large outside PA
speakers and placed them in the bell
tower of the Hur Church. Attaching a record player with a disc of Christmas
chimes, we started playing the tunes
in early evening before the holiday and for the entertainment of our
scattered neighbors. Shortly after the
premiere performance of "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," the chimes ringing
and echoing across the hills. Our
old Methodist preacher, the Rev. Dorsey Miller (who lived to age 103)
wandered out on his porch. Alarmed and
excited, he dashed back in the house and cranked up the switch operator,
Lona Starcher. "Christ is coming!
Christ is Coming!" he told Lona. "No, it's not Christ," she said. "It's just that
Bob Weaver with all his gadgets."
(1997)
HUR SLOTH MONSTER
In 1957, slimy and slothful, the strange creature drug its way across Slider
Fork down the hill from the Village of
Hur, white foam dripping from it's webbed feet, leaving large frog tracks on
the blacktop. The apparition was
illuminated by flames which mysteriously appeared in the middle of the road
shortly before 1 am on a Sunday
morning in 1957. The only car to return to Hur in more than two hours
screeched to a dead halt before the
strange sight. The long hot summer had been one of contemplation
about UFO's and para-normal activity. The
media had reported the historic spotting of the Braxton County monster
along with weekly sightings of objects
streaking across the sky, not to forget the Roswell incident ten years
before. The Sloth Monstor, humaniod in
size, turned its face toward the headlights of the lone car with its
unidentified occupants, the creature's webbed
hands swaying back and forth, dripping with white slime. One leg appeared
to be injured, dragging it along. The
stunned driver, motor idling, made nary a move as the monster picked up
speed and plunged into the woods. A
few moments later the flames in the middle of the road died down and the
driver engaged his car to move up the
Hur Hill, speeding away into the night darkness. Yes, dear reader, this really
did happen. On oath I declare! Now
you need the rest of the story.
HUR SLOTH MONSTER FINALLY REVEALED
Yes, it did happen. Ronzel Lynch and I became enthralled by late night
revelations, creatures, abductions, UFO's,
and sundry phenomenon on "Long John Nevilles" all night talk fest on WOR
radio in New York. The program
didn't start until midnight, and the guest list - well, some famous West
Virginians did the broadcast from the
credible Jim Comstock of the WV Hillbilly to the incredible Gray Barker of
Clarksburg. Barker published a UFO
newsletter and a book about the "Men in Black," which has since been used
many times in motion pictures. I met
him before he died, and he was a fascinating piece of work, to say the
least. We both became obsessed with the
show, which created some problems for school days having to drag out of
bed the next morning to catch the bus.
The unexplained became a hobby, and along with having a few real life
unexplainables, fanciful or fact, it was
time to place the wonderment into action. We made the decision to
create the The Hur Sloth Monstor, and exhibit
the creature before an unsuspecting traveler. We went to the J&B Drug
Store in Grantsville and purchased
several cans of foam shaving cream, which became an integral part of the
hoax. Nothing better than a slimy
monster. We waited and waited, and finally the sound of a car engine. Ronzel
quickly sprayed the shaving cream
on my underwear-clad body, fins on hands and feet, topped off by a beanie
cap with slicked down hair. The
monster emerged from the brush moments after Ronzel dumped gasoline on
the blacktop, igniting it so the car
would have to come to a halt. It did. With acting charisma from old B movies
at Cook's Drive-in, I sauntered
across the road, dragging my foot - the monster form illuminated by the
flickering flames and the car headlights.
At the last second I remember panicking, with thoughts of the driver
lurching his car across the flames and trying
to run me down. I leaped into the hollow, briars, rocks and all, and we both
ran as hard as we could. We went
home, assuring ourselves we had scared the bejesus into a stranger, who
would then alert the entire community of
impending doom about the bizarre creature. For two weeks we hung out at
Charley Starcher's Store on Slider Fork and
McCoy's Store at Hur, listening for the report of an alien being right here in
Hur. Would you believe, even to this
day, over 40 years later, we have not heard a peep. Did it scare someone so
badly, they questioned their sanity?
Or did the driver have a glow from drinking too many beers at Shaf's Place?
So, after consulting with Ronzel, who
now lives in Newport News VA, we decided to 'fess up for the 40th
Anniversary of the HUR SLOTH
MONSTER. In case there is someone out there who was affected and their
lives dramatically changed for the
worse - we humbly ask forgiveness for our wanton ways. (1997)
CRUSTY CREED LIVES ON
Eccentric Calhoun character Creed Brooks, known for his quick wit and
outstanding penmanship, would travel to
Bull River in the earlier part of this century to express his oratory at the
Literary Society. His dress and persona
would make him an irregular at such a fine group. Creed tended to dress
down. Creed stories have been told so
many times, much like legends of Paul Bunyan, after a while they become
muddled. But the gist of each story
remains, enough tales to fill a "Creed Brooks Compendium. Creed would
get out on Rt. 5 above Brooksville (Big
Bend) and thumb for a ride in either direction.
He just wanted out of the house. Creed had a predisposition for being struck
by automobiles, and surviving the
incidents with little harm. It was told that Grantsville resident, Winfield
Thomas once struck Creed and knocked
him over the hill into the weeds along the Little Kanawha River. Crawling
back on the highway, he inquired of the
terror-stricken driver - "How much do I owe for your car, Winfield?"
Creed, who had some knowledge of the law
and was a Notary (some say a Justice of Peace), often hung out at Holbert's
Store at Big Bend. Holbert's, other
than the Stump Funeral Home in Grantsville, may be the oldest business in
Calhoun. The Village of Big Bend is
yet referred to as "Brooksville," because of the colorful man's presence. A
traveling salesman became
interested in Creed because he never seemed to work and inquired of him
how he kept starvation away from the
door. Creed replied, "Well, I'll tell you mister. In the morning I eat a bowl of
dried apples. At noon I drink a lot of
water and in the evening I just swell up in time for bed." A well-known
girl of social status was walking to the high
school in Grantsville with her friends, when she came upon the crusty,
unkempt man. She announced to her
friends, "We don't speak to trash," after which Creed replied, "My dear lady, I
never fail to..." (1998)
TAPSTER KERBY'S FREEDOM FLIGHT
Tap grew up at the head of Rowels Run, real close to the Village of Hur. A
rock throw down the rugged hill from
my abode. We could hear the Kerby bunch chase up and down the trickle of
a stream in the tiny hollow
surrounded by craggy hills. Of the seven children, Charles "Tap" was the
adventuresome one, always tearing
things apart and putting them together. He was a tinkerer, messing with
nuts and bolts and screws and washers,
from which sprung his nickname "Tap." He liked a little excitement now and
then, which was probably the reason
we became friends. You know, the edgy mind looking for stuff to amuse and
experiences to gratify. Tap always
had a sense of transportation. Maybe he was always dreaming about getting
out of the holler to see the world,
hence he later became a long distance truck driver of thirty years or more.
Back then the best he could do was
fuss around with push carts, old car frames and a few broken down bikes -
things that by a stretch could take you
places. He could tell whose car was coming up Rowels by the hum and
whine of the engine, although he admitted
to being baffled when Wig Smith drove by in his contraption. Wig had an old
hack which used steel-ribbed mowing
machine wheels instead of rubber tires. Wig was not one to be held back by
flat tires and lack of finance. Those
metal cleats thrashing against the hard rock road would fool Tap. Wig was
also known for using his bicycle to pull
a buggy full of kids all the way to Parkersburg, right over Elizabeth Hill.
Tap would get tired of his routine,
running around the hills with the likes of the Smith boys and myself, and he
would go off and invent something.
While Tap was inventing mechanical in the holler, I would be inventing
electrical on the hill. Like launching Hur's
first and only AM radio station - WHUR. It was a low-powered, illegal
operation in the cellar house, now home
and executive suite of The Hur Herald. You could pick up the tunes and
hymns out the Husk, Kerby and Joker
ridges and a little ways down Pine Creek. My friend, Ronzel Lynch was the
assistant engineer. So, while we were
developing communication, Tap was exercising his mechanical genius and
assembling parts for his greatest
achievement, a machine that would fly. Just like that Darius Green guy,
Tap set out to build an airplane. I think
his brother Poge and a few others helped, but it was Tap who put the rig
together, wings, tail, and propeller,
powered by a Briggs and Stratton gasoline engine off his mom's old washing
machine. The construction and
excitement occurred so rapidly that Tap couldn't wait to summon all the
neighborhood kids to witness the
launching, although a few were there. They towed the contraption up the
rugged hillside to Bear Rocks near Rex
Ward's meadow, high above the Kerby house. The machine was nestled
close to the cliff as he fired the engine
and seated himself in the open cockpit. With a push and a shove it
catapulted off Bear Rocks on it's fanciful
freedom flight... only to be gravity fed down the brushy hillside, covered by
greenbriars, tree stumps and
groundhog holes. Would you know, and this is really so, ole Tap stuck right
with the machine as it turned end for
end, inflicting bruises and cuts over most of his body. "I stayed with her, just
in case she decided to take off," he
said. "Wonder it hadn't killed me." So, lo these many years later, it would
seem my friend Tap is "staying with
her" as he criss-crosses America in his long distance truck, gazing out his
window at our beautiful county, still in
the midst of his fanciful freedom flight. But each weekend he comes home to
Hur and his family to the ridge
above his old homeplace, where he can look out his back window toward
Bear Rocks and remember those
fabulous 1950's. And I hole up here in my old cellar house thinking, writing
and talking - the death of me yet.
(1998)
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