Capri Cafaro, Author at West Virginia Public Broadcasting

W.Va. Couple Follows Passion For Woodwork By Building A Life And A Business Together

For Sue and Stan Jennings, woodworking isn’t just a way to make a living, it’s a way of life. What started out as a passion for the craft was born out of necessity. Over the last 30 years, the Jennings have developed a thriving business making wood objects called treenware — small wooden kitchen utensils.

This story originally aired in the April 21, 2024 episode of Inside Appalachia.

The Jennings learned to make spoons through a lot of trial and error. But both of them can trace their passion for woodworking back to their childhoods.

Sue grew up helping out her father who was a contractor. Stan’s father had a sawmill and his grandfather was a carpenter. “I had a little bit of woodworking in my DNA,” Stan says.

Their mutual love of woodworking ended up being the foundation for their own relationship as a couple.

“When I met my husband, we were both working in the coal mines underground. And when we first started getting to know each other, the question we would ask is, ‘If you had anything in the world you wanted to do, what would be first on your list?’” Sue says. “And I said I wanted to be a woodworker. And he had the same dream. So right off the bat we knew there was something pretty special there.”

The chance to chase their dreams came sooner than expected. Not long after the couple met, Sue and Stan were laid off from the mines.

“We all walked in and got our pink slips and that was the end of our coal mining business,” Sue says. “And that’s how this evolved, because we needed a way to make a living.”

To make ends meet, the couple started selling odds and ends at craft shows. During that time, both experimented with making spoons.

Stan says the first set of spoons he made were less than impressive, but were created from the heart. And because he needed a cheap present for Sue.

“I suppose I was too tight to buy a Christmas gift,” Stan says. “I made her a set of dogwood spoons. And that was actually the first set of spoons we made. I’m ashamed to even show people, it turned out so bad, but Sue hung on to them.”

Sue also caught the spoon-making bug and tried to make a set herself. “The first spoon I made was a set of measuring spoons, and I made it out of rhododendron [wood],” Sue says. “And that’s because we had gone to a show and we met a spoon maker, and we talked and talked about him. I was fascinated from the very beginning.”

The Jennings discovered there was a whole culture around wooden utensils when they stumbled upon the book Treen and other wooden bygones. This book ended up changing the direction of their business. But they almost didn’t buy it.

“At the time it was like a $50 book and we stood there and agonized over spending $50 on this book because we couldn’t afford a book for $50,” Sue says. “So there was our first exposure to the word ‘treen.’”

Sue Jennings holding her copy of *Treen and other wooden bygones*, a book by Edward H. Pinto.

*Photo Credit: Capri Cafaro/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Treen is a Saxon word that refers to wooden items made from the tree for use in the kitchen or dairy. After buying the book, Allegheny Treenware was born. Much of the inspiration for their product design — and the name of their business — has come from the book.

Over 30 years later, the book is still on their shelves. It’s thick and well-worn, filled with photos of wooden kitchen items. There is a clear design connection between what is in the book and what the Jennings make today. The items are both functional and beautiful.

Over the years, the couple has grown as craftspeople thanks to a combination of grit and learning from other woodworkers. Now, times are not as tight and their process is much more sophisticated. They have several employees and a workshop full of high-end equipment. Their treenware is sold online all around the world, and the spoons are coveted collector’s items.

There’s a lot of action on the shop floor to fulfill these orders. Staff shift between workstations dedicated to a specific purpose. Each spoon starts with a pattern that is traced onto a board of wood and cut, just like a clothing pattern for fabric.

“When we make the spoon or whatever, there’s no duplicating machines, there’s no computerized equipment. Everything is truly made by hand here at this shop,” Sue says.

While there is now a team behind Allegheny Treenware, the Jennings reserve the most difficult part of the process for themselves: the shaping finish of the spoon. This requires very coarse sandpaper on a spinning disc which can cut your hands if you’re not careful.

Sue says her approach to shaping is different from Stan’s. She pre-shapes the spoon first, while Stan starts by planning things out before he sits down at a machine. “We’re different sides of the brain and we go about things differently,” Sue says. “[Stan’s] very methodical and I’m not, but we end up in the same place.”

Patterns used to make wooden utensils at Allegheny Treenware.

*Photo Credit: Capri Cafaro/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

The Jennings also have complimentary skills as business partners, especially when they were selling at craft shows.

Sue reflects on how she and Stan would interact with customers. “I’m always at the booth selling and his job was to entertain,” she says. “He’d be hand-carving a spoon and he’d be telling stories, entertaining the men while the women went shopping. It worked perfectly.”

Before a spoon is complete, there are some finishing touches put on it. They burn their initials “SJ” into the spoon and then soak it in food grade oil to bring out the color of the wood.

Back of a classic wooden “granny spoon” made by Allegheny Treenware.

*Photo Credit: Capri Cafaro/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Detail of engraving on the back of a wooden spoon made by Allegheny Treenware to indicate it is made of cherry wood. Initials “SJ” indicate the product was made by Sue and Stan Jennings.

*Photo Credit: Capri Cafaro/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

These spoons are much more than wooden utensils. They represent the sweat equity of one couple who has stayed true to their dreams, and each other, for over three decades.

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This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, a partnership with West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Inside Appalachia.

The Folkways Reporting Project is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts and culture.

Hazard, Kentucky Quilters Reconnecting To Area’s African American Traditions

Quiltmaking is an artform that has been passed down for generations throughout Appalachia. But a few years ago, local community activist Emily Jones Hudson noticed that quilting wasn’t as popular as it once was, particularly in Hazard’s Black community.

This story originally aired in the Nov. 19, 2023 episode of Inside Appalachia.

“[Quilting] is a big thing in the Appalachian culture. It’s a big thing in the African American culture,” Hudson said. “And one of the things that I was concerned about was that this tradition in the African American community was dying out.”

So in 2022, Hudson set out on a mission to encourage people to quilt again by establishing the Stories Behind the Quilt workshops. The workshops are a project of the Southeast Kentucky African-American Museum and Cultural Center.

Each week for over a month, Hudson and others met at Appalachian Quilt and Yarn in downtown Hazard with the goal of making a quilt together. Many of the participants had never made a quilt on their own, but had grown up with family members who were quilters.

Hudson recalls her mother quilting, but did not have an interest in learning the craft when she was young.

Hudson’s sister, Sandra Jones, took a liking to sewing as a child. Jones had distinct memories of working alongside her mother as she made quilts. “I grew up watching my mom, helping my mom sew and quilt,” Jones said. “I would help her cut, I would help her iron. I would help her do other little things — like markings — so we could get the measurements right.”

Katie Glover, who is in her 80s, is another participant in the workshop. She reflected on some of her earliest experiences watching her mother and grandmother quilt. “I would watch them sit around and watch them make quilts. They would have this old quilting frame that would be hanging from the ceiling,” Glover said. “And now all the neighbors would come and help them sew. And they sewed by hand.”

Katie Glover shows the quilt she’s working on. Glover has made four quilts and has started two more. She enjoys making quilts for her grandchildren.

*Credit: Capri Cafaro/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

While all three of these women had early experiences with quilting, it wasn’t something they pursued in their adult life. Most were too busy balancing work and family. And they no longer needed to make quilts just to keep warm.

Having little hands-on experience with quilting did not deter them from working together to make a quilt. Out of everyone in the group, Jones had spent the most time sewing, so she ended up leading the process. While she had never made a quilt, she had made clothes for years.

Still, there was a learning curve for Jones and the others. “When we started these workshops we didn’t really know what we were doing until we [sat] around and started talking about what was important to us,” Jones said. “And it just kind of unfolded.”

Rebecca Cornett, another Hazard-area resident who helped make the group quilt, said it was both exciting and emotional to watch the quilt come together.

“We eventually started cutting the fabric and putting it together,” Cornett said. “And then the reality hit. It was just overwhelming for me to see the completion of a quilt that was in our heads.“

The completed quilt tells a powerful story. The group selected a piece of fabric from Ghana as the focal point of the quilt. It depicts a woman working. The woman is surrounded by fabric in varying shades of green, printed with mountains. Below are outlines of faces in shades of brown floating in a sea of blue. And at the top of the quilt are orange and yellow strips of fabric to create a sunrise.

After days of cutting and sewing together, they created a piece that captured the struggles of the group’s African ancestors, their journey to Appalachia and the promise of a brighter future.

Jones said the quilt symbolizes the connection between Africa and Appalachia. “In the water you see heads floating. These are actually slaves who were thrown overboard. The mountains represent the Appalachian mountains because we’re tying in Africa and Appalachia culture.”

Jones explained the sunrise at the top symbolizes a new dawn for African Americans as they transcend struggle. When the quilt was finally completed, Jones breathed a sigh of relief.

“It was intense from beginning to end. But when I finished, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.”

The finished quilt wasn’t the only thing to come out of the workshop. During the process, Hudson said they also shared stories of their lives.

“One of the things that happens as we’re sitting around making this quilt is we share history. And we start talking about the history — the local history — of the area,” Hudson said. “One workshop as we were quilting, the topic just came up of Black businesses that used to be here in the area. Another workshop we talked about Black churches.”

It was important to the group to document the stories that emerged.

“If we don’t get the history documented, it’s like with each passing generation, it’s like we never were here,” Hudson said.

The quilting workshops created a sense of community that the group wanted to continue. So they decided to keep making quilts together. They’ve made two quilts and have plans to make one more. Jones noticed the participants’ quilt making confidence grew between the first workshop series and the second.

“Everybody was a little hesitant during the first workshop because they never used a sewing machine. They never quilted or sewn anything. So the second time around, you know, they were more excited about it,” Jones said.

The Stories Behind The Quilt workshops have reinvigorated an interest in quilt making within Hazard’s Black community. Just as Hudson had hoped.

For example, Katie Glover is now a committed quilter. She has made four quilts and has started two more. And she has a specific reason she’s making so many.

“I’m going to give them to my grandbabies,” Glover said.

Cornett thinks that sharing stories about making quilts with her kids is helping spark new interest in the younger generation. Now when Cornett’s children visit her, they ask to come to the quilt shop.

“They want to come down to see what I’m talking about. And so I think this is only the beginning of getting history being talked about, young people being interested. And I just think it’s the beginning of something good,” Cornett said.

As the workshops continue, there will be a chance for new people to join the process. They’ll continue the work started by this group of women, sustaining Hazard’s tradition of quilt making, one stitch at a time.

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This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, a partnership with West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Inside Appalachia and the Folklife Program of the West Virginia Humanities Council.

Potato Candy: Chasing A Taste Memory In West Virginia

Lots of recipes get passed down and shared in Appalachia through handwritten note cards. Sometimes they’re stuffed in little tin boxes, others in loose leaf cookbooks. For the recipient of such a family heirloom, the recipes can be a way to connect with the past. But some of those old recipes don’t use exact measurements. So how do you know you’re getting it right? For Brenda Sandoval in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, it involved some trial and error, and a little help from a cousin.

This story originally aired in the March 26, 2023 episode of Inside Appalachia.

A few years ago, Sandoval was gifted an old recipe book filled with family recipes, including her grandmother’s recipe for potato candy.

“It was [my grandmother’s] handwriting on a piece of paper, and it was P, period, candy. So the two P ingredients were the potato and the peanut butter…and the confectioner’s sugar, but she had a side note of things that she added, which were salt, milk and vanilla,” shared Sandoval.

Potato candy is a food icon across Appalachia. It became popular during the Great Depression because it was cheap and easy to make. This sugary sweet confection is usually comprised of just three inexpensive ingredients: peanut butter, powdered sugar and of course, potatoes. The candy looks like a reverse pumpkin log, with a brown swirl of peanut butter wrapped in the white pasty potato mix. When it is sliced, some people say the pieces look like pinwheels.

Sandoval testing the consistency of the potato mixture. *Credit: Capri Cafaro/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Like many heirloom recipes, Sandoval’s family potato candy recipe did not use units like cups or teaspoons. Instead, her grandmother listed her additional ingredients as a dash of vanilla, a pinch of salt and four splashes of milk.

While Sandoval had never eaten her grandmother’s potato candy, she wanted to see if she could recreate the recipe. She was now on a mission to make her grandmother’s potato candy recipe taste like the real deal. And getting it right wasn’t easy.

Sandoval needed to convert her grandmother’s units of measurement into something she could understand and replicate. This took a lot of trial and error. At times, the process was frustrating. The potato candy kept missing the mark.

Sandoval was chasing a taste memory, and it kept evading her. Eventually she enlisted her cousin Valerie Bovee in the pursuit to get this family recipe right. Unlike Sandoval, Bovee actually tasted her grandmother’s potato candy. She remembers how it tasted when she ate it on Christmas Eve.

Sandoval and Bovee work together closely, with Bovee tasting each batch and Sandoval adjusting the ingredients based on Bovee’s feedback.

“As you’re testing it, you’re trying to match it to what grandma’s was. That’s the flavor you got to try to find…which is hard to explain exactly what that taste is, but it’s definitely that Grandma’s House Christmas Eve taste,” explains Bovee. “[Sandoval] trusts me that I know what it should taste like and when it is good.”

Sandoval with the splashes of milk and pinch of salt. *Credit: Capri Cafaro/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Their collaboration worked. Sandoval’s determination and Bovee’s taste memory led to a breakthrough. Finally, Sandoval said that Bovee exclaimed, “This, this is right. Whatever you did, keep doing this.”

These days, Sandoval has mastered her family’s potato candy recipe. She had made it for a shop called True Treats in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia and now also sells the candy directly to the community. Yet, it is clear that potato candy is more than just a sweet treat to Sandoval. It’s about preserving tradition, and holding onto family memories.

Sandoval says making the candy can sometimes be an emotional experience for her as she reflects on her family while she’s going through the process, “I like to take my time and think about my grandmother or my ancestors as I’m baking it. And I think that’s coming from the heart.”

She also hopes people feel as nostalgic as she does when they eat her potato candy.

“I want people to taste it, remember it, think about your grandma or your aunt that’s no longer here that did it. Or maybe they are still here and you just don’t get to visit with them, but it’s something that would take them back,” Sandoval said.

Both Sandoval and her cousin Bovee are committed to keeping their family’s potato candy taste memory alive by continuing to pass the recipe and it’s intangible feeling down to future generations.

Bovee says now that she and her cousin have managed to perfect the candy, she wants to make sure she “gets the recipe down pat” to pass along to her children and grandchildren. “I just want us to be able to all get together, have good scenery memories, have fun making it together and enjoying it together.”

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Columbus Washboard Company Produces Instruments Aimed To Meet Musicians’ Needs

The Columbus Washboard Company in Logan, Ohio is the last and only washboard factory in the United States. Founded in 1895, the company has more recently adapted its product to meet the varied needs of its customers, many of whom are musicians.

This story originally aired in the Dec. 30, 2022 episode of Inside Appalachia.

Jacqui Barnett is one of the owners of the Columbus Washboard Company. She is a New Zealand native who has lived in the Logan area for decades. Logan has become a destination for musicians to visit.

“We have people come out of the woodwork to play washboards,” Barnett said. “We invite some, but the other ones just turn up.”

Below the company’s storefront, in the basement, is where the washboards are made. In some ways, the factory floor looks more like an antique store filled with old machinery. One of the machines drills holes into the wooden legs of the washboard.

“The machine is original, from the early 1900s,” Barnett said. “The company was started in 1895, and these machines were introduced in the early 1900s.”

There is also a crimping machine, which shapes the metal that becomes the body of the washboard. One of the staff feeds a roll of stainless steel into one side of the machine. As the metal works its way through the machine, a smooth sheet becomes crumpled like an accordion. Depending on the machine’s setting, the metal can also be impressed with a spiral pattern while it is crimped. One crimp pattern is called a double handy crimp.

Metal crimping machine used by Columbus Washboard Company.

“One side of it is coarse for scrubbing socks and bluejeans, getting grass stains out of them. The other side is soft and rounded for your lingerie. This was used many, many years ago, and it’s still used today,” Barnett said.

The original purpose of a washboard was to wash clothing. But over time, the humble washboard has taken on many roles including as home decoration and as a musical instrument.

Variety of decorative washboards on display in Columbus Washboard storefront.

When the washboard is played as an instrument, it is used in all kinds of music styles including country, jazz, jug band, blues, and even punk.

The concept of using a washboard in music is nothing new. Washboard playing traces back to hambone, a style of music with roots in African drum playing. Enslaved people were forbidden to use drums in an attempt to stifle self-expression. So they used clapping, stomping and household items like the washboard to make the rhythm that would otherwise have been played on a drum.

Over the years, makers like The Columbus Washboard Company have innovated the design of the washboard to enhance its function as an instrument. Musicians reached out to the company with suggestions for how to improve washboards for use as an instrument. As the last remaining washboard maker in the United States, Barnett and her team have taken care to incorporate player’s suggestions into product design.

“I actually had musicians calling me, and one of them suggested, ‘Why don’t we try stainless steel?’ At the time, the tin that we were using was very thin and would wear out, and so we also introduced a heavier gauge galvanized metal,” Barnett said.

Not only do different metals vary in durability — they make different sounds, too.

Washboards with different metal crimping styles used as musical instruments.

Joe Rose is a new washboard player from Chillicothe, Ohio. Rose has been experimenting with the various sounds washboards can make. He says different crimping patterns create different sound effects. And what you use to strum the washboard with can change the sound, too.

“Usually you need something metal to magnify the sound to it and, depending on the type of metal it’s made out of, it’s going to make a deeper or more bright sound to it,” Rose said.

And there are lots of metal tools to choose from: thimbles, whisks, banjo picks, and even shotgun shells. Ultimately, the washboard is a percussion instrument. Jacqui Barnett said remembering that is the secret to washboard playing.

“It’s just a matter of pretending you’ve got a drum set in front of you, and you just make different noises and different sounds and just strum to the music.”

With so many options, some players want customized washboards.

Breezy Peyton, of Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band, is one musician who has collaborated with Columbus Washboard to make a custom instrument. Peyton said she is one of the few full-time professional washboard players in the world. Her passion for playing the washboard comes from her family’s Kentucky roots.

“My granny Fanny, which was my great-grandma, had one on the wall of her house growing up, so I’d kind of messed around with it a little bit. But I studied just a lot of drumming techniques to learn the washboard and I listened to a lot of old jug band and blues music that had it,” Peyton said. “Washboard Sam was one of my favorites.”

Washboard Sam was an African American blues musician who was a washboard playing pioneer. He was such a legend, his washboard is on display at the Smithsonian Institution.

Influenced by giants like Washboard Sam, Peyton — who’s white — started playing used washboards she would find at antique stores. Her first was a Columbus Washboard.

“A lot of times these antique ones, I mean, they’d been used to clean clothes and stuff. So they’re pretty worn out,” Peyton said. “So I was wearing through them really quick. And I was like…I should really think about just buying new ones.”

When Peyton was ready to invest in new instruments, she reached out to Columbus Washboard, in part, because using an instrument made in the United States is something she values.

“It was important to me to play an instrument that was close to home, and I couldn’t believe that it was just down the street, really… in Columbus, Ohio or outside of Columbus, where they made them,” Peyton said.

Peyton considers how and where she will play a washboard when she is selecting which types she needs to play.

“When I’m recording, like in a studio, I generally use a brass washboard, but I use a galvanized or stainless steel on tour because it gives me a little bit more volume, and the brass is a little bit softer, so it’s better in a studio setting.”

Crimped and impressed metal washboard components.

Even though the stainless and galvanized steel washboards are made to be more durable, Peyton still goes through a lot of them.

“I play a new one almost every day because I wear through them because I play such an aggressive style of washboard,” Peyton said.

Peyton is not the only washboard player Columbus Washboard supports. The company strives to make washboard music accessible to all. They helped establish the Washboard Festival in Logan, Ohio where people of all ages and experience levels can get on stage and play.

The Columbus Washboard Company, and the Washboard Festival, have managed to capture the spirit of washboard playing — taking an everyday item and incorporating it into an art form.

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Southern Ohio Students Take To The Stage For Annual Eisteddfod Tradition

Elementary schools in Jackson, Ohio require every 5th grader to perform a song on stage. Some students choose to sing in Welsh.

This year marked the 96th Annual Eisteddfod in Jackson, Ohio. The Eisteddfod is a centuries-old Welsh music competition that was brought to southern Ohio by Welsh immigrants in the 1800s. Today, the tradition continues not only in Wales, but as a program put on by the Jackson, Ohio School District, inspiring students to learn about the region’s history and gain valuable life skills in the process.

For this year’s event, at least 100 parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters packed the auditorium to watch their family members perform. Students from the first to the fifth grade are required to participate in what has become more of an annual performance than a competition.

While it is compulsory for all elementary school children in Jackson schools to participate in the Eisteddfod, only the fifth graders get to choose a song in the Welsh language to sing.

Billy Witt is one of those fifth graders who decided to perform a Welsh song.

“I sang [the Welsh song] Calon Lan because my friend was going to sing this song. But he didn’t know how to pronounce any of the words,” Witt said. “So I was singing it to him for him to try to figure it out. Mr. Kugel overheard me and he asked me if I wanted to try to sing that.”

Sam Kugel is the fifth grade music teacher who helped talk Billy into singing Calon Lan, a song about appreciating the little things in life. Kugel teaches students the song’s melody while Welsh professor Dan Robotham helps kids pronounce the Welsh lyrics.

Even though it took some convincing to get Witt to sing the Welsh song, he still saw some value in doing it.

“I think it’s important because the Welsh basically founded this area,” he said. “And I think it’s great to support that and have a bunch of different things like the Eisteddfod to keep that tradition going.”

Witt was not crazy about the idea of getting up and singing in front of the crowd. But that is all part of the Eisteddfod tradition, one that is shared across generations.

Jackson native Catherine Smalley came to this year’s Eisteddfod to watch her grandsons sing. She reflected on her own time participating in the program 55 years ago.

“Everyone sang a solo. It wasn’t an option. It was just what you did,” Smalley said.

She said the event has changed a bit over the decades. “They’ve given some of the kids other options by singing duets or quartets or whatever, which is good. That at least gets them up there.”

While Jackson students are required to participate in the Eisteddfod during all five years of elementary school, the students aren’t judged. Starting in sixth grade, participation is no longer required. At that point, students can choose to continue to participate, and the program shifts from just being a performance to becoming a competition.

Competition becomes more intense when students enter high school. The performance is put on for a community-wide audience and each student or group is judged. Those who choose to stick with it year after year are ready for the pressure.

Camden Robertson, a Jackson High School sophomore, says being required to get on stage in elementary school gave him the building blocks for success in high school and beyond.

“I don’t think I would have ever proceeded in doing the Eisteddfod if I wasn’t required in elementary school, because it requires a lot of confidence to stand up in front of all these people that you know, or don’t know even, to just sing or play your instrument,” he said.

Even younger kids recognize the role the Eisteddfod has played in their personal growth. “It’s how I lost stage fright, was going up in front of a big crowd and then realizing it’s fun,” 4th-grader Naomi McGee said.

Eisteddfod may be difficult to pronounce, but its impact is simple to explain. In Jackson, Ohio, it brings a sense of purpose and pride to those who participate.

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This story originally aired in the Aug. 19, 2022 episode of Inside Appalachia.

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Crockery City: The Famous Past And Creative Future Of East Liverpool, Ohio's Pottery Scene

East Liverpool, Ohio, sits on the banks of the Ohio River where West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ohio meet. For decades, this small town was known as the pottery capital of the world after immigrants from Stafforshire, England settled there and brought their pottery-making expertise with them. By the beginning of the 20th century, more than half of all dinnerware in America was made here. Today, only two major dinnerware manufacturers are left. But pottery is still central to the town’s identity—so much so that even the school mascot is inspired by the industry.

At one time, East Liverpool was home to more than 200 pottery factories. Today, only two major dinnerware manufacturers are left. But pottery is still central to the town’s identity—so much so that even the school mascot is inspired by the industry. Potter Pete is actually a giant kiln with a face and feet.

Passing Down The Pottery Legacy

Some in the local community are committed to passing down the legacy of pottery-making to a new generation. That commitment is on display at the Museum of Ceramics.

Housed in a converted post office building, the museum serves as a cultural hub in East Liverpool. Not only does it boast a comprehensive collection of ceramics with a connection to the region, but it also hosts pottery making classes through the Clay Academy.

Run by the museum, the academy is a summer program for kids to learn about both the art form and the history of pottery making. Emma Rose Kurtz, 14, was a student in Clay Academy before the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I’ve been involved in everything as a little kid, you know, just making pottery and having a childhood where I grew up with pottery all around me,” Kurtz said. “My grandparents have a huge collection, one of the biggest collections that I know of.”

Kurtz’s grandparents, Donna and William Gray, have been collecting pottery since their honeymoon when they stumbled upon a gray colored teapot that happened to be made by Harker Pottery which once operated in East Liverpool. William Gray’s mother and grandmother both worked at Harker. That one teapot led to one of the largest East Liverpool ceramics collections in the United States, according to the Grays. And their collection also led to their granddaughter’s passion for pottery.

The teachers at Clay Academy also have a family connection to pottery. Barrie Archer has designed her classes to focus both on the history and the practical skill of pottery making. She grew up going to her family’s ceramics business, Taylor Smith and Taylor Pottery, with her father.

“As a child, if my mother was busy and it was a weekend and my dad had to leave and go over to the pottery, then he usually took us with him,” Archer said.

Preserving The Past To Invigorate The Future Of Pottery

Archer and Kurtz are representative of a community proud of their heritage, but also committed to building on the past to create a new future for East Liverpool.

While it may no longer be “Crockery City,” as it was once known, East Liverpool is now attracting a whole new group of pottery makers. In recent years, people like Kim Holhmayor have been moving to East Liverpool because of ceramics and the potential to grow the arts scene here.

Holhmayer plans to offer classes for children and adults at the Museum of Ceramics.

And, she has high hopes for the East Liverpool ceramics scene.

Hohlmayer said she wants to grow East Liverpool into an arts community like ones she has visited in other parts of Ohio.

“I would love to see something like that here. [W]e have so much to offer.”

Before COVID hit, East Liverpool was already on the path towards turning this industrial city into a place geared towards the arts. Galleries, a community theater and craft breweries were all popping up on the main street. Making ceramics is much more than what happens on the factory floor. It’s a creative process. And that creativity makes East Liverpool’s future as an arts hub much more than a dream.

This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, which is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to Inside Appalachia to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts, and culture.

This Folkways story originally aired in the May 27, 2022 episode of Inside Appalachia.