Brenda Kay Ledford's blog, "Clay County Yore," won the 2017 Paul Green Multimedia Award from North Carolina Society of Historians.
For information: www.ncsocietyofhistorians.org
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Blanche's Bobbed Hair
Movie stars such as Betty Grable and Ava Gardner influenced the fashion of women. My aunts got hairstyles like these glamorous actresses.
My mother, Blanche, dreamed of getting her hair bobbed, too. She enjoyed the cinema and these stars provided an escape from the gloom of World War II.
War influenced how women wore their hair. Working in the fields, factories, or armed services, required hairstyles that would not get caught in machinery or in the way.
Many women who worked in factories wore trousers. Granny Trese didn't approve of her daughters wearing pants. She was a religious person and thought females should not dress like men.
Much to Granny's chagrin, her daughters wore trousers at home. Pants were more comfortable than dresses to do housework.
Although Blanche never wore trousers, she still desired to bob her hair and get a permanent wave. Of course Granny Trease frowned on that.
But Blanche's fiancée, Rondy Ledford, helped her fulfill a dream. He was serving with the Civilian Conservation Corps in Aquone, North Carolina. One weekend Rondy came home and took Blanche to a movie. She told him she wanted to bob her hair and get a permanent wave, but didn't have the money. He gave her the cash to go to the beauty shop.
On Monday morning, Blanche sneaked into Mary Jo Burch's Beauty Shop. She told her she wanted to bob her hair and get a perm. When Blanche saw the wicked- looking permanent machine, it scared her to death. She was afraid it would electrocute her.
But Mary Jo assured Blanche it was safe. The machine had clips that hung from above and heated to 200 degrees Fahrenheit. Dampened hair steamed and curled as it was heated on rods.
The machine got so hot that Mary Jo had to fan Blanche's head constantly. The beautician and customer ran the risk of serious burns.
Blanche's heart raced and she broke into a sweat. She promised herself if the beauty shop did not catch on fire, she would never get another permanent.
Hours later Blanche dragged out of Mary Jo's Beauty Shop with stiff and brittle hair. Her fiancée loved her new hairstyle, but Granny Trese just rolled her eyes.
by: Brenda Kay Ledford
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Matheson Cove Memories
left to right: front row: Granddaddy Bob and Grandma Minnie Ledford
middle row: Reba Ledford Rigsbee, Robenia Ledford Merritt, Rena Ledford Matheson, and Ray
last row: Reuben Ledford, Rondy Ledford, Ralph Ledford, and Robert Ledford
Matheson Cove Memories
Spinning mud,
marred to the axles
as it bounced
over ruts into
the Matheson Cove,
it splashed barefooted
through Hyatt-Mill Creek,
fished with a cane pole,
picked wild huckleberries
for jelly and pies,
robbed the beehive,
gathered eight children
around the supper table,
their names began with R,
spread sourwood honey
on catheads smothered
with fresh-churned butter,
gobbled bowls of roasting ears,
green beans, taters
and crumbled cornbread
into a glass of buttermilk,
hooked old Bess and Kate
to the plow and worked
the new ground,
grew red geraniums
beside the log cabin,
rubbed overalls on the board
until the hands bled,
scurried through the field
and fed the cattle fodder,
swept through the cove
scattering apple seeds
on Shewbird Mountain,
sawed its fiddle,
danced in the old red barn,
shimmied over the ridge
and turned the road
into a silver ribbon.
--Brenda Kay Ledford
Great-Grandpa's Apple Orchard
Great-Grandpa Dallas Matheson owned 300 acres of land in the Matheson Cove section of Clay County, North Carolina in 1844. His property included half of Shewbird Mountain.
His ancestors departed the Scottish Highlands in 1772 and sailed into the harbor of the United States of America. They were some of the earliest settlers in present Clay County, NC.
Great-Grandpa Dallas was a learned man and spoke correct and distinct English. He read many books and so did his children. He and Great-Grandma Martha Norwood Matheson had three girls and three boys. Minnie Lee Matheson was my grandmother and married Robert "Bob" Ledford in 1916.
Great-Grandpa Dallas was a farmer. He grew an apple orchard above the frost line on Shewbird Mountain. He raised the black beauty apple that was so red it looked black. The Ben Davis was light with small streaks and white inside. Other apples included the horse apple, hog sweet, red June, striped June, striped May, pumpkin apple, queen pippin, pound apple, and others with no names.
Each fall my family took a sled and mule on Shewbird Mountain and hauled apples to the house to store in the cellar. They also dried apples on trays outside in the sun.
Dried apples were delicious, especially when made into fried pies or a stack cake. It was made with five or six thin layers. Dried apples were cooked with a little sugar and cinnamon then spread between the layers. It was best when soaked for a few days.
Here's my grandmother's recipe for the stack cake:
Great-Grandma Martha's Dried Apple Stack Cake
2 cups dried apples 1 cup raisins
1 cup sugar 1 cup molasses
2 eggs 1 cup milk
3 cups or more of flour 1 teaspoon soda
2/3 cup baking powder nutmeg and cinnamon
lard
Soak apples in water long enough to make soft. Then chop them to about the size of raisins, and boil them 15 minutes in the molasses. Add nutmeg and cinnamon to taste.
Mix eggs and sugar, add enough lard until it looks like a biscuit dough. Add flour, baking powder, soda, add enough milk to make dough soft. Mix in raisins.
Turn dough onto floured surface and roll in thin circles to fit black iron frying pan. Bake in moderate woodstove oven until golden brown.
Spread cooked apple mixture between layers. Will make 5 to 6 layer cake.
Put a dish rag over the cake and soak it for a few days before serving.
by: Brenda Kay Ledford
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
The Singing Convention
The sun
ricocheted like a ruby above Shewbird
Mountain
Ma hummed
the hymn, “Just Over in the Glory-Land,” as she baked bread in the Dutch
oven. My brothers toted firewood into
the kitchen.
My sisters
made up the featherbeds and dressed baby Ray.
All our
names began with the letter “r.” Ma called
me Rondy. I didn’t like being the
oldest. Then came Ralph, Reba, Rena,
Robert, Reuben, Robenia, and Ray. Robbie
died at birth.
Ma and Pa
got our names mixed up. I reckon I
answered to anything.
That
morning Pa called, “Ralph. I mean
Rondy. Help me feed the livestock.”
I gave the
mules, Bess and Kate, corn and slopped the hogs.
“Reuben. I mean Rondy,” yelled Ma. “Pick some blackberries for a pie.” I grabbed a bucket off
the back porch and headed for the berry patch.
I didn’t like being the oldest youngin.
“Orrf! Orrf!
Orrf!” yelped ole’ Oscar, the
foxhound. He jumped to my shoulders and
paw printed my overalls with mud.
“Get down,”
I scolded.
Oscar
drooped his ears and slinked away with his tail between his legs.
I picked a
handful of blackberries, plopped them into the bucket, and munched some.
Oscar
sneaked up and nudged my elbow. He
whined and I gave him berries.
“Orrf! Orrf!
Orrf!” He smacked his lips and thumped his tail.
“You ain’t
getting more,” I told him.
We headed
to the log cabin and Ma made a berry pie for the dinner on the ground.
Pa and I
hitched the team to the wagon. Reuben
and Robert got hay from the barn for the back of the wagon. They threw straw at each other and it covered
the ground. The mules heehawed and I
grabbed their reins.
“Stop that
tomfoolery,” I ordered.
“You ain’t
our Pa,” said Ralph.
“Just cause
you’re oldest, don’t mean you can boss us,” said Robert.
“Howdy,
Otis!” yelled Reuben and stuck out his tongue.
I flew
mad. Otis was a hermit who lived in the
holler. Even in summer, he wore a
toboggan and smelled like a polecat. I
darted to the peach tree to cut a switch.
The boys
took off to the corncrib with Oscar howling at their heels. I picked up the hay and tossed it into the back
of the wagon, then covered it with a quilt.
Ralph put
straight backed chairs on the wagon for Ma and Pa.
“Who got
the tablecloth?” asked Ma. “Rondy, fetch
it.”
I rushed to
the house and resented doing the most work.
The
youngins laughed, poked each other and enjoyed the ride down the bumpy
road. I chewed a straw and stared at the
mountains. Pa drove the team across
Hyatt Mill Creek, then forked toward Hayesville ,
North Carolina
“Rondy’s
got a sweetheart,” said Reba.
“Rondy’s
sweet on Blanche,” said Rena and giggled.
“Rondy’s
going to meet Blanche at the singing convention,” added Robenia.
I dropped
my head and listened to the singing as we climbed the hill to town.
Pa told me
to tie the horses to a tree. The
youngins zipped into the red brick courthouse to the singing convention.
I sat in
the back of the courthouse with Blanche.
I thought she was the prettiest gal I’d ever seen.
“It’s good
to see you,” she whispered and blushed.
I held her
hand as we listened to the shape-note music.
Uncle
Luther Matheson and his quartet sang the song he wrote, “Will He be Ashamed of
Me.” The crowd kept applauding until
they did an encore. His group won the
banner at the convention.
After the
singing convention, we gathered under the maples and spread our picnic lunches
on tablecloths across the ground.
I ate with
Blanche as my brothers and sisters romped over the courthouse yard hollering
like hyenas.
Pa offered
Blanche and me pieces of fried chicken.
He gazed at the rambunctious youngins.
“Son, I’m
glad I can always depend on you,” he said and touched my shoulder.
I thought
my heart would burst with joy. It was
good to be the oldest in my family.
Lick Skillet School
Rondy Ledford (my father) and his siblings Ralph, Reba, Rena, Reuben, Robert, Robenia, and Ray attended Lick Skillet School. It was a little one-roomed school located deeply in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Hayesville, North Carolina.
"Mind your teacher!" yelled Ma Ledford as she shooed her young'uns out the door. They walked two miles to Lick Skillet School that was located on Myers Chapel Road. On warm days, the children went barefooted.
The children made it to school just as the bell rang. School started at 8:00 each morning. Miss Opal Crawford stood on the steps of the little white-plank school and rang the bell. "Good morning, scholars," she said with a smile. "Hurry and take your seats. You have a lot to learn today."
Rondy, Ralph, Reba, Rena, Reuben, Robert, Robenia, and Ray put their lunch buckets on a shelf in the cloak room. Ray got a dipper full of water from the bucket.
Reba poked him in the ribs. "You better not drink all that water. You'll have to go to the outhouse before recess. Miss Crawford won't like that."
Ray stuck out his tongue at Reba. He drank the full dipper of water.
The young'uns took their seats in the one-room school. Girls sat on one side and boys on the other. Children who misbehaved had to sit on the opposite side--a punishment that sometimes backfired. Reuben had a crush on a little red-headed girl and enjoyed being sent to the girl's side to sit beside his girlfriend.
The one-room school included a blackboard, desks, the teacher's desk, and a potbelly stove. The older boys carried buckets of coal into the classroom. Students often asked the teacher if they could dust the erasers. What a pleasure to get outside, get out of work to dust the erasers.
The day started with the students giving the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag and singing, "The Star Spangled Banner." Miss Crawford read from the Bible and they had prayer in the classroom.
Then the scholars started working on their morning assignments. They practiced penmanship on slates. Miss Crawford called students to the blackboard to work arithmetic problems. She called groups to the front of the room. The scholars memorized spelling words and read from the McGuffey's Readers.
The morning flew and it was time for recess. The boys played ball. The girls went to the woods and cleaned out spots for a playhouse. They used moss for furniture and little pieces of glass they could find for dishes.
The children had an hour for lunch. After they ate, the pupils played games such as: Ring Around the Rosy, hopscotch, Andy Over, Kick the Can, Drop the Handkerchief, and other games.
Recess ended too soon. Miss Crawford rang the bell for the afternoon session of school. Sometimes they held spelling bees. She wrote the homework on the blackboard and dismissed school at 4:00.
It was a busy day at Lick Skillet School. The children received a good education at the little one-room school that served as the heart of the community. People also voted there, held cake walks, benefit singings, and square dances. The community was proud of their school and supported the schoolmarm.
Today Chatuge Shores Golf Course rolls over the hill where Lick Skillet School stood. A golfer swings his club and strikes a ball. It twangs like the softball some pioneer scholar once struck on the same green spot.
Making Sorghum Syrup
Ma Ledford crawled out of the featherbed just as the rooster crowed. If only she could sleep longer, but this would be a busy day.
Today the family planned to make sorghum syrup. It would be a big job and she dreaded it. At least it was Saturday.
She loved her children, but they ran her crazy sometimes. It was like herding oxen to get them out of bed, feed them, dress the youngest ones and get them off to school. Work never ended on the farm.
Bob Ledford helped as much as he could, but he worked seven days a week on the farm. Ma fussed at him to rest on the Lord's day, but livestock had to also eat on Sunday.
Her brother, Luther Matheson, cautioned her about marrying a "poor dirt farmer." But she fell in love with the handsome Bob Ledford. After seven children, she never regretted living with him in the Matheson Cove.
This morning her legs and back hurt. She was expecting a baby and couldn't help in the cane patch. First of all, the blades had to be stripped from the stalks. Then you cut them down and put them into piles, next cut off the seed heads.
Then the boys would load the cane and take it to the mill. A mule pulled the pole that turned the mill. Cane was fed into the vertical rollers like a washing machine. Juice squeezed from the cane and flowed down a spout to the boiler where it was boiled from one vat to another. You skimmed foam off the top until it came out a nice, clear brownish red color.
Ma dreaded the yellow jackets that swarmed when you made syrup. Dozens flocked to the cane. You had to keep them out of the syrup. She hoped her children wouldn't get stung. She would remind Bob to bring chewing tobacco to spit juice on the stings to draw out the poison.
Last year they made 90 gallons of sorghum syrup. But with a large family, they would need that much. It sure tasted good on hot, buttered biscuits. Making sorghum syrup took all day, but it was worth all the hard work.
by: Brenda Kay Ledford
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