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2023: IN SEARCH OF JACK CAWTHON - Writer's Fame Eluded Him, Big Puff, Burvil And Granny Pratlow |
| (10/04/2025) |
The deep woods Gilmer homeplace of writer Jack Cawthon By Bob Weaver 2023 I went in search of the Gilmer County home place of Jack Cawthon, my writer friend of 63 years, he having died in 2020 at 86. Jack had written hundreds of times about Barbecue Run in a deep woods holler as far as you could stick a butcher knife. I zing-zagged the hills to discover his humble abode, a four room dwelling that was part clapboard and half log cabin with a collapsed log burning fireplace. There was not enough room for a garden or meadow, likely using some flatland on the adjacent mountain. They likely had a horse, some cows and pigs, with a large barn still standing. Jack and his brother both graduated from Glenville State College, his brother being killed in World War II. While writing "Cawthons Catharsis" for the Hur Herald for 20 years, he was inspired by his deep holler life to create the imaginary village of Big Puf with Burvil and Granny Pratlow.
The barely standing barn pf the deep woods Cawthon homestead Jack's unfulfilled dream until the day he died was to become a recognized writer, while being among WV's most accomplished scribes and storytellers, he was a columnist for "The West Virginia Hillbilly," a former friend and associate of its late founder Jim Comstock. Jack was accomplished and witty, having been published in many venues over the years. After obtaining a job at a Gilmer County weekly, he was the youngest editor in WV, and went on to be the editor of "WV Conservation Magazine," a forerunner to "Wonderful West Virginia." Over the years he returned to his Barbecue Run homeplace, to meet up with family and friends, particularly during deer season, often recalling his long walks to a one-room school. Now, after his death, I find myself still grieving he did not become a recognized writer. When discussing my writing with Jack, I would often say that I just hack unedited stories and give little thought to being recognized and suffer no grief. Even great writers like L. T. Anderson and Comstock have nearly faded from memory. During the past months I have spent time reading his columns, a personal mission to relieve myself grieving about his lifetime dreams of "fame," personally relieved that I spared myself the pressure of being acclaimed, I just hack and use first drafts, a gift given to me by Calhoun writer Jeannie Wilson, who told me "Just Write." I'm hopeful this homeplace visit has helped me with my sadness. |
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