Mother vs. The Bear

In the late 1890's home for John and Nancy Sexton was a small farm located on the eastern side of Iron Mountain in Tennessee. There were several of these small farms along the foothills of this mountain, and these farmers supplemented their income by riving shingles from the virgin forest a-round them. Hence, the name Shingletown was given the small community. These shingles were a popular form of roofing and siding for the homes and indus-tries that sprang up in Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina.

John and Nancy raised most of the food needed to feed their seven children. This included a cow, some chickens, and a hog or two; more meat was obtained by the killing of wild game which was plen-tiful. They were the typical small farm family of the day. They were my parents.

Since I was the youngest of seven children, my knowledge of their way of life in those early years came from stories my mother told me.

The work was hard. Land had to be cleared and ground prepared for the planting of the crops. When there was any time that wasn’t spent in this manner, shingles were rived. When there were enough of those shingles ready to load a wagon, they would pack enough provisions for two or three days and set forth on a much looked-forward to journey. There were no railways, no paved highways--just a rough trail to the place to sell their shingles. Fresh vegetables, eggs, chickens, butter, cheese, and fruits were also taken to be sold. Their destination, Glade Spring, Virginia, was a journey of approximately twenty-two miles. As the wagons traveled along, they were joined by other travelers from as far away as West Jefferson, North Carolina. If pretty weather prevailed. they would reach a beautiful campsite on the banks of the Laurel River by nightfall. This site was located in the eastern section off what was later to be called the town of Damascus, Virginia.

This time spent camping on the Laurel River was always looked forward to and remembered until the next trip. Fires were built for warmth, cooking, and lighting. Much visiting was done. The women told of their children, exchanged recipes, talked fashion, and gossiped. The men talked about their crops and their livestock. They shared with others humorous and exciting hunting and fishing stories.

The next morning was all hustle and bustle in preparing for the last leg of the journey. There were twelve miles ahead of rivers to be forded and hills to be climbed. They would arrive at Glade Spring so late in the evening that they had to spend another night before the market opened. In the morning came the unloading and selling of their wares. Next there was shopping for supplies to take back home. These items included nails, wire, tools, boots. trousers, and sometimes a fine new hat for the men. The women bought fabric, thread, buttons, items of clothing, sugar, coffee, salt, and stick candy or gum drops for the children at home. Another night was spent in Glade Spring. All were up early the next morning for the journey home.

If there was no trouble, they arrived at the Damascus campsite by nightfall. What was to be the town of Damascus was then forests. Here and there was a house. After another night of camping, they were finally home. It had taken them five days to travel approximately forty-four miles round trip.

During the years 1900 and 1901, industry started moving into the Damascus area. A railroad was built from Abingdon to Shady Valley, Tennessee, where logging the virgin timber provided work for many people.

I was about a year old when my parents sold their farm, bundled up their possessions, and carried them across the mountains to Shady Valley, Tennessee.

Mother was given the job of baking bread for the men in the logging camp. Housing was a problem, so we were allowed to move into what was called "camp cars" placed on a siding in the camp. We lived here until the company built a boarding house for its employees. Now Mother and my sisters had their hands full cooking for so many. We lived and worked here until 1910.

I was nine years old when we moved into a house in East Damascus. There I entered school in the three-room schoolhouse near the Douglas Trestle.

In a story such as this, there must always be something that can be looked back on as humorous. Two such instances have laughingly been told to me many times.

The first happened to my mother as a child about ten years old. When a bear hunting trip was planned, three or four men would go on a trip lasting two or three days. Someone always had to go along to do the cooking. On this particular hunt, Mother was the one chosen.

They journeyed far back into the dense mountains to a small abandoned cabin. There Mother set up "housekeeping". She was left alone and cautioned not to leave the cabin. A day for a ten year old with nothing to do grew very long, lonely, and boring So forgetting all warnings, she wandered away from the cabin picking wild flowers. She strayed farther than she realized and was suddenly startled by a loud thrashing noise in the forest near her. Looking up she saw a huge bear rapidly heading in her direction. For a moment she was petrified! Looking around she saw a tree that had blown over, with the branches forming an arch from the ground. She ran for the tree and scrambled up the roots and out onto the trunk. Just as she closed her eyes and prepared for the end, the bear passed under her and went on its way, escaping the pursuing hunters. It would be a toss-up as to who was more frightened---Mother or the bear.

The second humorous incident occurred while we were cooking at the boarding house in Shady Valley. The men had just successfully completed a large order and their employer was giving them a dinner. Buckets of fresh oysters, packed in ice, were brought in for the feast. As most of these early settlers had never seen such a delicacy before, instructions for cooking had to be obtained.

Everything in order, Mother and my sisters started frying the oysters. They had worked through most of buckets when suddenly a small red crab appeared among the oysters. They were horrified at seeing the "red spider", which might be poisonous, so the balance of the oysters were dumped into the creek.

There is so much more I can remember--hard work humorous times, and the struggle to survive. Most of all I remember the standards by which Mother lived and taught us children: 1)"Owe no man a debt that cannot -be paid." 2)Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

Ollie S. Weaver