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--§
Barbara J. Hobson
n
2020 Sherwood Drive #323
Johnson City, TN 37601
·36
GRANNY HACKLE
Aslc the old-timers anywhere in the Eastern Tennessee mountains
al:xmt Granny Hackle and they will most likely tell you she was a
witch, and nod Jmowingly as they tell you so.
But according to
the few records left from her time, Granny Haclcle didn't get to be
a witch until after she died.
While living she was better known as
the "Old !-iedicine Woman".
No one in Tennessee rightly Jmr:iw just where Gra1my Hackle came
from.
She first appeared riding sidesaddle on a great black stallion
in the Sinking Creek country one spi:-ing day.
Some say it was irr the year
1766, othern claim it was 1776.
A tall, stern-faced youth of twenty who looked to be half Indian
preceded Granny on foot.
His name was Tom Hyder, and he was a mute.
Adam Honeycut, a withered, silent little old man led a packhorse
behind the black stallion.
This tiny procession stopped at the cabin of Delph and Mariah Gurley
on the Watauga River and the first report on the trio comes from Mariah,
who was alone that day, Delph having gone deer: hunting.
"The old woman," Mariah said, "was dressed all in black, even her
sunbonnet.
I ain't never goin' to forget her piercin' eyes, black as
Satan's heart, an' the little bunches of stiff gray hairs that stood
out from the sides of her chin lilce a cat's whiskers.
was dressed in deerskins, an' both carried rifle guns.
Her two menfollrn
I gived 'em
buttermilk: fresh out of the cellar-house, an' sold 'ertr a fli tch of
bacon, an' they went their way on to'ards Watauga Old Fields.
I never
did see the men again, but I loolced on the old woman, at the time of her
h11rvinl.
11
�---------
Granny Hackle
Page-2
Granny Hackle and her retinue reached Watauga Old Fields on an
afternoon in May, though how they ever crossed Lick Creek remained a
mystery.
Heavy rains in the mountains had turned the stream into a
roaring flood, and there were no bridges.
Half a dozen families had settled in or about Watauga Old Fields,
attracted to the place because it had been cleared and farmed by
Cherokee Indians before the arrival of white men.
Granny Hackle's
party camped there two days, and during most of every daylight hour they
were scouting the forests around.
North, South East and West they went,
always searching.
It was almost dusl< on the second day when the old woman demonstrated
the first of those strange powers that were to earn for her Litle,
"Medicine Woman", and later, "witch".
That evening Lige Bogard had come in from the cornfield and was
cutting stovewood before sitting down to supper.
While trimming a
chestnut log, Lige' s axe glanced off a hard Jcnot and the keen
blade continued on down, slicing a great wound in the calf of his left
leg.
Lige's eight-year-old son, Seth, saw the blood spurting from a
severed artery and ran screaming to the house for help.
Soon the entire
settlement was in an uproar.
Granny Hackle heard the commotion and came to see.
Bob Singletary
and Lige's wife, Hallie,were trying vainly to staunch the bleeding
the old woman shoved her way through the crowd that had gathered.
Granny
Hackle hovered over the injured man, her dark face strangely grim and
foreboding, but only for a moment; then she stooped and lifted Hallie
Bogard to her feet.
"There's no call to fr e t," she assured Hallie.
"Your man'll be as
�Cranny Hackle
Page-3
right as rain soon's the wound heals itself.
See! Hit ain't bleedin'
now."
1
Hallie looked, and sure enough the bleeding had completely stopped.
"Hit's a miracle!"
in her arms.
Hallie whispered and knelt to cradle Lige's head
"yes, hit's purely a miracle."
neighbors clustered near.
Then she looked at the
"Somebody He'p me git him inside the house."
Bob Singletary said later, "Twere an amazin' thing.
There me an'
Hallie was, squeezin' Lige's leg as hard as we could, tryin' to shut off
his life blood, but 'tweren't no use.
stood a-looldn' down at Lige.
Then this old woman come up an'
So help me, that's all she done, just
looked at him, an' afore I could-a said Jack Robinson, the bleedin'
stopped.
weak.
"Twere about time, too, 'cause Lige was a-get tin' powerful
He couldn't a stood much more."
From that day on Granny Hackle's ability to stop bleeding was cormnon
knowledge in the settlement, and the old woman was called upon in many
later emergencies.
Early the next morning Granny Hackle mounted her stallion and rode
out along what was later to be called Smalling Road, and the crest of a
long, low ridge which :"as splotched here and there by outcroppings of
white limestone.
the river
The ridge, lying between the higher mountains beyond
was crossed by a little-used trail.
Beside this trail,
in a saddle-like dip in the rocl-:y ridge, Granny i:ointed to a level spot
beneath towering oak:s.
11
Build my cabin here," she told Tom Hyder and Adam Honeycut.
TI1ey built it well, with logs of virgin poplar and a punchoon floor
of straight-grained black walnut, hewed to an almost perfect smoothness.
The few women of the connnunity who saw this floor marveled at Granny's
choice of walnut rather than t he us ual p::lplar or 1-1hite oal,;:, because
;
�Granny Hackle
Page-4
those fortunate enough to have puncheon floors took great pride in scouring
and bleaching them to a remarkable whiteness.
Granny also scoured her floor,
until it took on the rich patina of ancient ivory.
Later, Tom and Adam built a smaller cabin for themselves, also a stable
and when this was done they began to clear land for corn, potatoes and tobacco.
Toe three made an odd combination.
Adam Honeycut, a quiet, thoughtful
man, never spol~e to anyone unless it was necessary and Tom Hyder, while
friendly and lilcable enough, couldn't speak.
His eyesight and hearing
were remarlcably acute, however, and he was sldlled in the Indian sign
language.
The sober-faced youth soon became a familiar figure throughout
the Watauga Settlement, and a favorite with the children for whom he
made willow whistles and alder popguns and squirt-guns.
He also knew
how to make bows and arrows, and strange harps thc1t made music only when
the wind blew.
As for Granny Hackle, she spent many hours riding or tramping through
the woods, adding to her already amazing assortment of herbs, roots, leaves
and bark.
She too, had a somewhat disconcerting habit of appearing un-
expectedly in the most
unlikely places, and oddly enough at times when
she could be of service.
That is how it was when Celia Robertson fell and broke her leg.
Will,
her husband, had gone up into the IIolston Settlements for supplies, including salt, and Celis, left alone, tripped over a hidden vine while
trying to drive their one obstreperous cow into the milking pen.
Somehow
Celia managed to crawl to the cabin and into bed, but since there was
no one she could send for help, she lay there unattended for two whole
days.
She was in a bad way when Grc:inny Hacl{le rode up on her black
stallion.
�Granr.,....__ Hackle
PageDespite her age, which was great even then,
the old woman
showed amazing strength as she lifted Celia about, changing
tl1e bed, getting the injured woman into her long nightgown ' ,
and finally inspecting the broken bone.
It was, fortunately,
a clean break midway between knee and ankle.
Granny Hackle looked at the swollen limb, clucked sympathetically, then went to get a doesK1n Dag tram her saddle.
From this she selected various dried herbs which she set to
boiling on the fire and afterward strained.
Compresses dipped
in this evil-smelling concoction reduced the swelling in time.
The old woman then expertly set the broken bone and applied
crude splints.
Before morning Celia was sleeping peacefully,
the first real rest she had known in two days.
Granny Hackle remained long enough to cook up a rich broth
which she gave Celia when the latter awakened.
In the mean-
time she milked the cow which, because of painfully full
udder, came willingly enough
to the pen.
Later the old
woman rode to the Camerons, Celia's nearest neighbors, and
Martha, the eldest Camerons, daughter, went to stay with the
injured woman.
Much the same thing happened the night little Prissy Womack
lay near death with croup.
The Womacks had done everything
they knew ta relieve the child's suffering, but she grew
constantly worse until well past midnight.
Then, out of the
darkness came the sound of clopping hoof-beats.
horse!
A natural pacer,
Granny Hackle's
the black stallion's hooves beat out
rapid-fire tattoo familiar to everyone on the settlement.
Granny Hackle came to the Womack's door carrying her doeskin
�Granny Hackle
Page-6
and gave Stephan Womack a level glance when he opened to
"Hit come to me in the night," she said camly,
her knoclc.
"That a child is sic!{.
Be that child here?"
"Ja ! "Ja ! It is our Prissy.
out to die."
I'm a-feared she's makin!
Wide-eyed and eager, Stephan stepped back from
the doorway.
The old woman moved swiftly across the dirt floor to where
Esther Womack held the infant in her arms, rocking desperately
because she knew nothing else to do.
Granny Hackle laid her
bony hand against the child's forehead,
listened to the
rattling labored breathing, and opened her bag.
Git me some boilin! water-quiclc! she command Womack, and
began selecting certain herbs from her supply.
As she worked,
she spoke to Esther.
"Hit ain't no use a-rockin' her.
Lay the child in her
cradle, then git me a good clean sheet."
Wordlessly Esther obeyed, and while she rummaged in the
corner shelves, Granny Hackle dropped herbs into the pan of
water Stephan had boiling.
At once a pungent odor rose and
filled the room .. It was a piney, spicy smell that was some
how cooling and refreshing to the lungs.
Granny Hackle took the sheet from Esther and spread it
tent like over the cradle, then took the steaming kettle from
Stephan and thrust it inside the canopy, well away from the
strangling child.
Nothing happened for a few minutes,
then the harsh, rasping
sound of breathing changed to a loose hoarseness and the infant
coughed.
Granny hackle lifted the canopy and with a linen
�Granny Hackle
Page-7
cloth helped the baby rid herself of the mucous her coughing
had released.
Gradually the labored breathing eased, and
when Granny Hackle rose from her knees an hour later, little
Prissy was sleeping quietly.
"Hit's over," the old woman told Esther Womack.
She turned
to Stephan" I recommend that you heat this kettle to bilin'
again, an' let the child breathe its steam once more.
Hit
might be a good notion to put a kiver on it an' keep the brew
till later.
Could be you'll need it afore mornin."
After the old womQn had gone, Esther looked at her husband
with wonderment in her eyes.
Stephan?
"How d'you reckon she knowed,
How'd she know to come here,
'stead of some other
place?"
"Stop worryin' about the whys an' wherefores, woman,"
Stephan told her. "Jest be grateful to the Lord foe givin'
little Prissy back to us."
Esther was not so easily satisfied.
thoughtfully, whispering,
knowed.
She shobk.her .he~d
"Hit's purely a miracle, how she
I reclrnn the Lord must-a told her where to come."
Granny Hackle's store of knowledge seemed unlimited.
There was, for instance, the day when Art Brownlow's hunting
dog began running around in circles, frothing at the mouth
and frightening folks almost out of their wits.
cry,
"Mad Dog! ran through
The dreadful
the settlement like fi"re in cotton
linters.
Art . was out with his rifle,
trying to get a good shot at the
stricken animal when Granny Hackle came riding up.
The yelping
dog raced toward her and straight beneath the black stallion,
then took refuge in a lean-to beside the barn.
/\rt ran up and
�Granny Hackle
Page-8
shut the door and was preparing to shoot the dog through
a crack in the wall when the old woman stopped him.
"Wait!"
She said sharply.
Art looked at her coldy.
"Why? He•s mad.
I got to kill
him afore he kills us or some of the farm critters."
"Good dog, ain't he?"
"He was," Art admitted gloomily,
"Best huntin' animal I
ever owned."
"He's still a good dog."
Art spat and frowned at her.
"Go
lon_g, woman, an'
leave
She paid no attention to his words, but dismounted.
"You
I
a man do what he must do."
got a big horse blanket or a old quilt?"
He blinked at her, his face red.
"For Why"?
The old woman straightened and put her black eyes on him.
" Stop askin'
fool question!
Git me a blanket or a quilt,
an' I'll give you back your dog, good as new."
Art gaped at her a moment, muttering under his breath,
1
then went into the barn and got a moth-eaten old saddle blanket.
Granny took it from him and walked to the shed door.
"Open
It," she said to Art.
"He'll bite you sure, old woman."
"Open the door!"
He did so and Granny Hackle went inside .. The dog, still
voicing his agony, cowered in a corner and she tossed the
blanket over him.
She bundled it about the dog until he was
helpless, then carried him outside.
The only part of him
that showed was his snout and a part of his head.
"Hold him the old woman snapped, and Art gingerly clamped
�Granny Hackle
· Page-9
his hands about the struggling bundle.
Granny Hackle slid
her palm across the dog's wild eyes and clasped her other
hand about his jaws, squeezing tender lips against sharp teeth
until the dog opened his mouth wide.
The old woman peered
closely, grunted a monosyllable, then reached inside the
parted jaws and plucked out a sliver of chicken bone.
"There's your mad dog," she said accusingly, and began to
unwrap the shivering animal.
He leaped to his feet, wiped
his jaws a time or two on the grass,
then, with a grateful
swipe of his long tongue across Granny's hand raced joyously
around the barnyard.
Art showed shame in the way he looked at Granny.
obliged,
help.
ma'am,an' I must say it were right kind of yo~ to
I'm beholden to you,"
Granny only reply was a little nod.
led him to the upping block,
She untied
the stallion
then lifted herself to side saddle.
From this vantage point she looked down at Art.
better'n to give a dog chicken bones,
bones.
"I'm
"You know
" she said, "specially leg
That there sliver were wedged atween his jaw teeth an'
they weren't no earthly way he could git it out his ownself."
Doctors and money were almost equal acarcities in th0
remote Watauga settlement.
Those who benefitted by Granny
Hackle's ministering were appreciative enough, but they could
not pay for her services in cash.
They did what they could,
however, by gifts of salt, fish from the mountain streams,
corn, potatoes and like, with now and then a quarter of
venison or a wagon load of hay.
As the months passed and
Granny's skill in the art of healing became a accepted fact
in the community, people gradually came to speak of her as
�Granny Hackle
i'age-10
"The Old Medicine Woman".
Granny Hackle wandered far in her search for the herbs
and other materials that vent into her concoctions for the
sick.
In time she became almost as well known about
gonesboro and along the Doe River as she was at Watauga.
The old woman tried once to join the New Light Baptist
Church, but was denied membership because, the deacons said,
"there were to many strange going on about her place."
She
sat with the regular Baptist a few Sundays, but never became
a member of the congreation.
Years passed and the strange trio composed of Granny llaclcle,
Adam Honeycut and Tom Hyder had become an _accepted part of the
community, then, one winter day, old Adam tried to cross the
river at Elizabethton on thin ice.
drowned.
He broke through
and
They did not find his body until a March freshet
brought it ashore at the mouth of Lick Creek.
They buried
Adam in a little graveyard on the northeast point of Granny
Hackle's limestone ridge.
It seemed to some that Adam Honeycut's passing as an omen,
because it wasn't long afterward that Tom llyder,: nailing a
shoe on Granny's black stallion,·was kicked to death,
It
happened when a pheasant toolc flight from a clump of bushes
by the barn.
The black horse reared in f~ight, Tom went
sprawling in the dirt,
then the horse kicked savagely and his
newly shod hoof struck Tom in the head. They buried him
beside Adam.
�Granny Hackle
Page-11
After that Granny Hackle continued to minister to the
ailing, but she was much less active than before and spent
a great deal of time alone in her cabin.
She was there the
day Hugh Brownlow rode up on a lathered horse, carrying his
twelve year old daughter, Emily, in his arms.
She had been
bitten by a rattlesnake.
Granny Hackle, now a very old woman and slightly palsied,
heated a knife in the flame of candle, made a slit in the
girl's leg where the fangs had struck, then put her mouth
to the wound and drew. what poison she could from it.
Afterward
she poulticed the cut with herbs from her doeskin bag and
made a strong tea which she gave little Emily to drink.
The sat together, Granny Hackle and Hugh Brownlow, until
late that evening.
Shortly before midnight a sweat came out
upon Emily's forehead and her breathing grew more regular.
"She'll live," Granny Hackle said then.
home now."
"You can take her
She sat a few minutes longer. stroking the girl's
corn colored hair and the rounded cheeks with their rosy flush
of fever.
"T'is a wonderful thing to be young," she told Hugh.
"Your child will grow into a purely handsome woman."
She
lifted a strand of golden hair and let it fall lightly from
bony fingers.
"Find her a good husband when the time comes."
Then Granny Hackle raised her misty eyes to llugh Brownlow
and said a trifle harshly,
woman without a man.
"Tis a lonesome life for a
See to it. this child finds love."
At that moment, for some reason, Hugh felt closer to the old
woman than at any time before.
"Granny," he asked suddenly,
"!low is it that you are willin'
to wear yourself out a-carin'
for us mountain folk?
'Tain't reasonable, somehow, an' we can't
�r ·anny Hackle
Je-12
ever hope to pay you back. for everything."
The wrinkled face softened in the candle light and she
absently stroked the sleeping child's hand.
will.
"'Tis the Lord's
So says the Book ... that there be many gifts from the
Spirit to men.
The Lord expects us to use his gifts.
is give the word of wisdom,
To one
to another the word of knowledge:
to others faith, and to some the power to work miracles.
Some
of us that the Spirit has blessed with the gifts of healin'.
If my gift be healin', then I must do as Jesus his self said,
"Heal the sic, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out
devils.
Freely ye have received, freely give."
She lifted her face and there was the trace of a smile on
her thin lips.
"I ain't never raised the dead or cast out
ary devils that I knowed about, but I've done the best I knowed
how.
Oddly enough it was Hugh Brownlow who saw Granny Hackle die,
not two weeks later.
Hugh was returning from Elizabethton in
early afternoon, trying to reach home before a storm broke.
Great banks of threatening clouds had swept in from the west,
then these thunder heads had given way to a darkening sheet
of coppery yellow in which thunder rolled almost continuously
and out. of whicll javelins of lightning stabbed toward t.he
earth in brilliant streaks.
As Hugh told Elvira, his wife,
later, "When I come ferni ns t
Granny Hackle's place I could tell the storm was nigh, an'
I didn't want to git my salt wet; so I rode quick up to her
cabin, thinkin'' to shelter in the barn till the storm was over.
"The wind was a whistlin'
through
the gap, only it weren't
�Granny HdC~L~
Page-13
rightly a whistlin'.
'Twere more like music.
Sometimes it
were like a choir singin', other time it were more like music,
an' other times it minded me of a organ I once heared in
Roanake.
"Well, I
didn't see hide nor hair of Granny Hackle, so I
took my horse inside the lean-to an' hadn't more'n got
sheltered when the storm hit.
"Hearin Granny's black stallion a-whick~rin'
I looked in on him an' his manger plumb empty.
whickered some more, pawed at the floor, an'
at me.
in the barn,
The horse
bobbed his head
I got him a measure of corn from the bin, forked
some hay into the manager, an'
the critter gobbled it like he
was starvin'.
"Knowin' how much the black meant to Granny,
right off that something were wrong,
So, quick as the rain
slacked a bit I went over to her cabin an'
weren't no answer.
I figured
knocked, but there
I knocked some more, an'
finally pulled
the latch string an' went in.
"Granny Hackle lay on her pallet in a corner by the fire
place.
She were alive, but that were all.
I brung her a
crust of bread, some water, an a bit of venison that was
still in the pot.
She managed down a mite of it,
but not much.
The water seemed to do her most good.
''I wanted to go fetch out a woman from the settlement to look
after her, but Granny wouldn't have it.
whispered.
"Hit's my time," she
'Things that has a beginnin' must have a end.
This
is mine.
I ast her could I git her somethin' from her doeskin bag,
but she shook her head.
'I would take it kindly,
though,
if
�Gr
,ny Hackle
Pi.. _ 2-14
you would set with me a while,
smiled.
'she said, an'
then she
'Twere the first time I ever seen her smile.
'I
ain't afeared to die', she said so low I had to bend down to
listen,
'but it's a comfort to have somebody nigh'"
Granny Hackle lapsed into a coma then and for several
minutes never moved.
Presently she ~pened her eyes and sought
Hugh's face with eyes that saw little.
She fumbled for his
hand and gripped it hard.
"My Horse-my stallion",she whispered.
"I give him to you.
Treat him kindly an' he will carry you far and well."
"Why, thank you, ma'am", Hugh stammered.
treat him well.
"Of course I'll
He's a fine horse, a mighty fine animal."
Granny Hackel smiled a little once again, then her fingers
loosened their grip on Hugh's hand, her head relaxed upon her
pillow, and she was still.
Hugh Brownlow passed the word of Granny Hackle's death as
he rode through the Watauga Settlement, but did not stop to chat.
He reached his own home in late afternoon,
tired to the point
of exhaustion.
Elvira met him at the door.
worried!
"Oh, Hugh,
I've been so
The storm an' everyth{ng .•. an' our little Sally
like to a-died whilst you was gone."
He questioned her, and Elvira told him how young Steve Cobb
had been playing in their yard,
Indian fashion.
learning to throw a knife
One throw had gone wild and the heavy knife
struck Sally in the upper arm, severing an artery.
"It were awful, Hugh", she cried, weeping again at the
thought of it.
"I couldn't stop the bleedin', an'
our Sally
�Page-15
would a died if the Old Medicine Woman hadn't come, an• ... "
Elvira stopped to stare blankly at Hugh, then she added
faintly,
"nobody seen her go, neither."
"Go on, woman,
Hackle?
"What about Granny
"Hugh said tensely.
Tell me all that happened."
"Well, "Elvira said doubtfully, "hit were like so many
other times.
Granny just stood lookin'
at Sally,
then she
turned to me an' said, Little Emily's sister will live.
The bleed in' has stopped.!
An' sure enough, it had."
Hugh gripped his wife's arm hard.
happen?"
"When did all this
he asked, eyes dark with secret meaning.
"Tell me,
'Virey, when?"
"Why, jest a little while ago.
Right after the rain."
seemed a little frightened by his strange reaction.
She
"You must a
met her on the road if you come through Watauga."
Hugh Brownlow's eyes were dark and troubled as he turned
away and went into the woodlot to think.
How could it be
that Granny Hackle came to stop the bleeding of Sally while
at the very same time she lay dying in her own log cabin,
with Hugh by her side?
It was a question for which Hugh could never find a right
answer,
and the telling of the story at last gave rise to the
belief that Granny Hackle had indeed been a witch.
How else
could one explain her strange life and even stranger ending?
Many years have come and gone since the Old Medicine
Woman died, but people in and about Watauga even to this day
call the limestone ridge on which she was buried, The Granny
�Gru
}' llncl<la
Pag c -16
llackl e".
There ura some who say tha-t the wind, swe~ping
through t he g ap where Granny ' s Cabin stood, sometimes sounds
like mu sic, or a <listant choir sing ing, or, as Hugh Brownlow
said like Jn organ playing.
END
�This recording was made by Jesse Larrimore "Larry" Campbell, ca. 1985, when Larry
was about 70 years old. It was made at the request of his daughter, Lori Campbell Amos,
and it therefore was not meant to be heard by anyone else. Larry speaks to her during the
recording, and he speaks of"your mother," etc.
Larry was born October 9, 1915, in Ravenscroft, White County, TN, near the town of
Crossville. He was the 4th son of James Lane Campbell and Lillie Jane Green, both of
Coffee County, TN. When Larry was only about 2 years old, the family moved to
Kentucky after James found work in a coal mine there.
The Campbells lived first in Fleming, Letcher County, Kentucky. It was here that the
Campbells and Zillons became friends. The family of Pete Zillon that Larry mentions in
the recording was Livonian, a Latvian ethnic group, although they were mistakenly
recorded on the 1920 Federal Census as Lithuanian.
The family moved several times, and eventually ended up living in both Anco and Vicco,
Knott County, Kentucky. The recording mentions that the family was forced to move
after James was fired one of these times because they were vocal Democrats; other firings
occurred for various reasons. James always found work in another coal mine, however,
and the family was able to survive.
Larry's daughter, Susan Campbell Rhodes, remembers that he and her mother often had
friendly arguments over which of them had grown up more poor. Larry always won when
he brought up the fact that as a child he never had a vegetable during the winter.
Although the Campbell family was poor, the children were happy, and Larry mentions in
the recording that the children never knew they were poor. He describes also his first trip
to his parents' home in Manchester, Coffee County, TN, and how he saw a player piano,
a two-story house, etc. for the first time while he was there.
James was killed in a mine in 1929, when Larry was 13 years old. The family returned to
Manchester to bury James, but they apparently returned to Knott County for at least
another year; Lillie Campbell is listed as head of household on the 1930 Federal Census
for Knott County. The oldest son, James Edward, was not living with the family at this
time, but the second son, Redus, was listed as a coal miner. It is thought that perhaps the
family owed money to the coal company when James died, and that Redus helped to pay
off the debt after his death; this is speculation, however, as the family may have just
wanted to try to stay on in Kentucky because they had come to see it as their home. Larry
never mentioned why the family returned; it was only when the 1930 Federal Census was
made available (in 2003) that his daughter made the discovery that the family was still in
Kentucky that year.
By 1931, however, the family moved to Manchester permanently. Among the more
memorable things he speaks of in the recording is the different ways the mentally ill were
treated in the mining camps and in the "big city of Manchester." In the camps, he says,
the afflicted were taken care ofby the community, but in Manchester, he saw people
�make fun of a mentally ill person for the first time. Such differences were difficult for
Larry in the beginning, but he eventually settled into life on the Highland Rim.
After finishing high school, he served in the Army Air Corps and the Navy during World
War II, and he served in the Air Force during the Korean Conflict, and then served in the
National Guard. He married Lucie Lovell during the 1940's, but she died after only a few
years of marriage. In May of 1949, he married Leona B. Ramsey, daughter of Hence
Burris Ramsey of Coffee County, TN, and Sally Alma St. John of Warren County, TN.
Their daughters, Susan and Lori, were born in 1950 and 1957, respectively. Larry worked
for the US Postal Service during most of this time, and in 1968, he was appointed Post
Master of Manchester by the US Senate. He later retired and lived the remainder of his
life in Manchester, traveling occasionally to points of interest regarding his Scottish and
Native American heritage, of which he was very proud.
When he was 79 years old, after nearly 70 years of smoking, he found the courage to quit.
He told his granddaughter, Heather Rhodes Johnson, that it was the hardest thing he had
ever done, and he thought about it every day. He never smoked again, though, but he quit
too late to save his health. At the age of 80, he discovered he had lung cancer and began
treatment. He died on January 19, 1997, at the age of 81. He rests today beside his wife,
Leona, in Rose Hill Cemetery in Coffee County.
Those who knew him remember most his kindness and his laughter, both of which he
shared freely. He never looked down on anyone, and he had many friends of all social
classes and ethnic groups. He was loved and respected by many because of the kind of
man he was, which was surely in no small part shaped by his childhood spent in the coal
mines of Eastern Kentucky.
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
"Granny Hackle" Typescript, undated
Description
An account of the resource
The "Granny Hackle" Typescript, held by the <a href="http://www.etsu.edu/archives" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Archives of Appalachia</a> at East Tennessee State University, is a photocopy of the folk tale "Granny Hackle" about a medicine woman in East Tennessee.<br /><br />The current digital collection contains a PDF file surrogate created in 2022 of the complete content of the collection.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
<a href="https://archives.etsu.edu/repositories/2/resources/97" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">"Granny Hackle" Typescript</a>, Archives of Appalachia, East Tennessee State University
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
undated
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
<p>The Archives of Appalachia at East Tennessee State University provides access to the materials on this website for the purposes of research and education, provided that proper citation is used (e.g. [identification of item], [identification of collection], Archives of Appalachia, East Tennessee State University). Any commercial uses of the materials or any uses that exceed the limits of fair use and other relevant statutory exceptions require the permission of the Archives of Appalachia and the copyright holder(s). It is the user's obligation to determine and satisfy copyright or other use restrictions when publishing or otherwise distributing materials.</p>
<p>Compressed (low resolution) files are available on this website. Requests for accessing uncompressed (high resolution) versions of this material can be sent to the Archives of Appalachia.</p>
<strong>Items in this collection are presented for their historic and research value. They may contain content that some viewers will find objectionable.</strong>
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
ETSU Archives of Appalachia: AppMs-0779
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
"Granny Hackle" Typescript, undated
Description
An account of the resource
<span>The "Granny Hackle" Typescript, held by the </span><a href="http://www.etsu.edu/archives" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Archives of Appalachia</a><span> at East Tennessee State University, is a photocopy of the folk tale "Granny Hackle" about a medicine woman in East Tennessee.</span>
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
<a href="https://archives.etsu.edu/repositories/2/resources/97" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">"Granny Hackle" Typescript</a><span>, Archives of Appalachia, East Tennessee State University</span>
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
undated
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
<p>The Archives of Appalachia at East Tennessee State University provides access to the materials on this website for the purposes of research and education, provided that proper citation is used (e.g. [identification of item], [identification of collection], Archives of Appalachia, East Tennessee State University). Any commercial uses of the materials or any uses that exceed the limits of fair use and other relevant statutory exceptions require the permission of the Archives of Appalachia and the copyright holder(s). It is the user's obligation to determine and satisfy copyright or other use restrictions when publishing or otherwise distributing materials.</p>
<p>Compressed (low resolution) files are available on this website. Requests for accessing uncompressed (high resolution) versions of this material can be sent to the Archives of Appalachia.</p>
<strong>Items in this collection are presented for their historic and research value. They may contain content that some viewers will find objectionable.</strong>
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
0779