Lore is defined by Merriam-Webster as “Something that is learned. Traditional Knowledge or Belief. Tribal Lore. Knowledge gained through Study or Experience.”That last part is important. Experience.Some things you can’t quite get a grasp on just from reading a book or listening to someone talk at you. You have to put your hands on what it is you want to know. You have to spend some time with it.
Lore is defined by Merriam-Webster as “Something that is learned. Traditional Knowledge or Belief. Tribal Lore. Knowledge gained through Study or Experience.”
That last part is important. Experience.
Some things you can’t quite get a grasp on just from reading a book or listening to someone talk at you. You have to put your hands on what it is you want to know. You have to spend some time with it.
I’ve lived in Appalachia nearly my entire life, but a lot of the culture that’s part of Appalachia is a mystery to me. I don’t hunt. I have never been whitewater rafting (on purpose) and have never stepped foot inside a coal mine or handled a snake in church (or anywhere else).
I don’t clog, flatfoot or contra dance. My mother didn’t make chocolate gravy for breakfast on special occasions (or any occasion) when I was a kid. I don’t make biscuits from scratch. I buy them. They come in a can (or from a bag at the drive-thru) and I’ve never tried chow-chow or apple stack cake. I have never even seen muscadine pie.
Honestly, up until a week ago, I thought chow-chow was a kind of dog and didn’t know you could eat muscadine grapes.
It’s more than a little awkward.
Appalachia is forever associated with the Appalachian mountains. I grew up in Giles County, Virginia, which has an access point onto the Appalachian Trail. All summer long when I was a kid, I used to see hikers from the trail wander through town on their way to the post office to pick up their mail and maybe to find a bath. In college, I served these hikers pizza and sandwiches at Papa’s Pizzeria. They’d eat like horses. In between mouthfuls, they’d tell me about their adventures.
Sometimes, I was the first person they’d spoken to in days.
As an adult, I’ve read books and magazine articles about the Appalachian Trail. I hate camping, but I’ve flirted with the idea of taking on a long trail hike more than once. I even have a hiker’s map of the trail hanging up in my office, but I’ve never visited — not even for just the day.
There are dozens of other things, really — boxes on an All Things Appalachia list itching to be ticked.
So, I’ve started this blog and I have some recording equipment to make some radio stories for Inside Appalachia. There are things I’m very interested in knowing, things I’m sort of interested in learning about and things I’m not entirely sure I want to know at all, but I’m curious to see where this all goes.
“Making Our Future” by former West Virginia state folklorist Emily Hilliard dives deep into the niches of Mountain State culture, from songs of the labor movement to the history of hot dogs. The book was released on Nov. 22, 2022.
“Making Our Future” by former West Virginia state folklorist Emily Hilliard dives deep into the niches of Mountain State culture, from songs of the labor movement to the history of hot dogs. The book was released on Nov. 22, 2022.
This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Harold: There’s so much that we could cover. I would like to talk about something that’s near and dear to my heart — your chapter on hot dogs. Can you tell me about how the craze began?
Hilliard: It’s linked to industry and immigration, popularization of mass culture, urbanization and European migration. There were a lot of instances where Greek and maybe Italian immigrants were setting up hot dog stands in West Virginia. And mostly, that was in major urban centers in industrial areas. I think that’s why we see the hot dog really being popular in West Virginia in the southern coalfields, the northern coalfields and then industrial cities like the Ohio river towns of Huntington and Parkersburg. Hot dogs really seemed to boom in the 1910s and 1920s in West Virginia.
Harold: I love the line in the book from a Fairmont newspaper that calls Charleston “one of the greatest places on earth for hot dog eaters.”
Hilliard: That was amazing to find. I found several articles about hot dogs in Charleston. I found that there were at least four hot dog stands in Charleston in the early 1920s. Three of four of them were owned by Greek immigrants. And there was this amazing stat in one of the articles. It said 22,000 dogs a day are sold out of those four hot dog stands at one point. That is about one for every two residents in Charleston at the time.
Harold: I have this highlighted in my copy. “If all the hot dogs consumed in a year in Charleston were strung together, the string could extend to Huntington and back and still have enough left to run down to St. Albans on one side of the road and back on the other.”
Hilliard: And then I think it goes on to say, “Or it could go all the way to Morgantown.”
Harold: To return to your point: I found it interesting that it was so tied to industry. Because it’s cheap. It’s portable. This is the perfect thing for people who are doing shift work.
Hilliard: I talked to the descendants of A.J. Valos, who was a Greek immigrant born in 1894. He had actually worked as an indentured servant in the hot dog industry in New York and then moved to Parkersburg and opened the Broadway Sandwich Shop, which is still open. He opened that in 1939. And his relatives were saying they thought much of the success of his shop was because it was right across the street from the Mountain State Steel Foundry. And it was also close to a high school. So they got students from the school coming for a snack or for a meal. And then there were some other companies right nearby, so factory workers would grab hot dog before and after shifts.
Harold: Let’s talk about the hot dog stand war of 1922 in Fairmont.
Courtesy
The book was published Nov. 22, 2022 by University of North Carolina Press.
Hilliard: This was also something I found through looking through historic newspapers. There was this flurry of activity in the Fairmont papers in 1922. City officials were upset with the clientele that these hot dog stands in Fairmont were attracting. Most of that seems like racist and classist resentment of the Greek and Italian immigrants who were running these hot dog stands and wagons, and also the clientele of high school students and workers. They equate them with dive bars and beer joints and attest that they are unsavory, and tried to shut down some of these joints.
Then there’s the counter response of someone writing in and saying “maybe the city officials could worry about more important things than just shutting down hot dog stands.” Then there’s another newsstand owner who writes in and he is incensed that people had been thinking his new stand was a hot dog stand. He writes into the paper to assert that is simply not true. “I don’t want to be affiliated with that kind of base business.”
Harold: First comes the hot dog and then comes the West Virginia hot dog. You get into the history a little bit, which seems a little murky. When did we start putting slaw on dogs?
Hilliard: The first mention of slaw that I could find was from a 1949 paper in Raleigh County, and it was about the jail. Incarcerated people in the jail liked slaw on their dogs because they could smuggle in a razor blade.
That was another instance where it’s like, is this a joke column? I think there was a little bit of humor to it. But it is kind of funny to think that is why people started putting slaw on hot dogs.
Stanton from the West Virginia Hot Dog Blog credits a Stopette advertisement in the paper from 1922 that says something like, “Everyone’s talking about the Stop-Ette’s new dog with slaw.” So it may have been popular in the state before that. We just don’t know. There were traditions of coleslaw and cabbage with German immigrants and Eastern European immigrants who were living in West Virginia at the time.
Harold: I don’t think I’ll ever look at a hot dog the same way again.
Hilliard: Well, hopefully that doesn’t mean that you won’t still enjoy it.
Harold: I love them even more. You’ve published a book and authors have to do a certain amount of self promotion — telling people about the book, letting them know they can pre-order it. You ran into a little bit of controversy on social media over hot dogs. Can you tell me what happened?
Hilliard: I posted a map that my friend Dan Davis from Kin Ship Goods made for the book. It’s of the hot dog joints that are included in the book — most of them, but not all of them. I think maybe people just didn’t read that’s what it was for. I wouldn’t say it wasn’t quite viral, but it had hundreds of retweets and responses. People were just so mad that their favorite hot dog joint was not on this map. And I ended up issuing the disclaimer and saying, “This is not a value statement of the best hot dog joints. It’s simply the hot dog joints, some of them, that are listed in the book. And it’s not exhaustive by any means, and neither is the book. But I would love to see your hot dog map.” Which I’m serious about. I would love to see a collection of people’s favorite hot dog joints in West Virginia, or the ones where they have memories. I think Dan is making some merch for it, which might inspire more controversy. But hopefully not.
Harold: Or hopefully so — because like you said, if we generate enough controversy, this will lead to the creation of rival hot dog maps and then we just have a whole other chapter in your next book.
Hilliard: Yeah, that would be fun.
Harold: I feel like the state of West Virginia owes you a profound debt of gratitude for the work and love that you’ve put into this book, whether we’re talking about your chapter on hot dogs or your chapter on the author Breece D’J Pancake, or the chapter on the teacher strike or the one on independent pro wrestling. What we’ve ended up with is a book that you could put in somebody’s hands and say, “This is why West Virginia is special. This is what makes us who we are.” And I’m just so glad that you’ve given that to us.
Hilliard: I really appreciate that. In a way, it’s a love letter back to the state in all its complexity.
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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.
The Folkways Reporting Project is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the WestVirginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts, and culture.
For many, summer is often associated with camp and quintessential camp activities like swimming, making s’mores and telling ghost stories.
Last week, a group of nine students in Pocahontas County took telling ghost stories a step further, by learning how to make short, animated films at Monster Movie Camp.
On the last day of Monster Movie Camp, the students were standing at their workstations, hurriedly putting the final touches on the illustrations for their film. Molly Cook was drawing the shape of a funny looking monster with a magic marker.
“I just like drawing. I’m only 10. I’m the youngest person in this class,” she said. She made a short, animated film, about a legendary cryptid from Braxton County, known as the Flatwoods Monster.
After drawing the images, or creating a set with sculpture, the students used iPads to film their movies. They spent days working on their small sets and filming their stop-action animation.
Many of the students said they signed up partly because they like to draw. Jesse Kelly said he likes theatre, and performing, and he wanted to learn to make movies as another creative outlet.
One of the students’ sketches from Monster Movie Camp.
“I think I surprised myself on some of the things that I did because I didn’t think I could do it that good,” Kelly said. “Like, once I watched it, it was better than I thought it would be.”
The Pocahontas County Opera House hosted the five-day Monster Movie Camp. Artist Bryan Richards and writer Howard Parsons also helped teach the students how to animate stories.
On the final day of camp, the students showed their parents their films, which were projected on a big screen inside the Pocahontas Opera House.
In the interest of full disclosure, Roxy Todd, who reported this story, is friends with Brooke Shuman, who organized the camp.
The West Virginia Folklore Society was founded in Morgantown on July 15, 1915, by John Harrington Cox and Robert Allen Armstrong of West Virginia University and Walter Barnes of Fairmont State.
One of the earliest state folklore societies in the nation, it remained active for only two years. However, during this time, the society collected traditional ballads and songs that were later published in Cox’s classic book Folk-Songs of the South.
In 1950, Barnes, along with Patrick Gainer of WVU and Ruth Ann Musick of Fairmont State, revived the folklore society. Barnes pushed to create the society’s official publication, West Virginia Folklore, which Musick edited until 1967. Gainer directed the group’s participation in the 1963 West Virginia Centennial, including publication of a songbook.
The society operated intermittently in later years. West Virginia Folklore continued to be published annually at Fairmont State until 1980. In 1993, the journal was reissued under a new format and title, Traditions: A Journal of West Virginia Folk Culture and Educational Awareness. In 1998, the folklore society evolved into the West Virginia Folklife Center at Fairmont State University, which houses the society’s archives.
Ten folklore students from George Mason University in Virginia recently spent a week visiting central and southern West Virginia. They traveled to five counties to learn more about the culture, stories and history found throughout our area and how traditions have impacted the personal lives of several West Virginians.
For most of the students, like Alex Bridges, this was their first experience traveling to West Virginia.
“We were talking to people, and they all were saying you know ‘we’re a family here. We take care of our own. We care about each other in a very, very intimate way,'” she said.
Bridges grew up outside Washington D.C. She has family who used to live in West Virginia, but she’s never had the opportunity to visit.
“I honestly was not expecting to enjoy myself as much as I have, it’s a beautiful state, beautiful people, beautiful environment to be in and I honestly wish that I had been able to come here sooner in my life,” she said.
Over the course of a week, she and nine other folklore students traveled with their professor, Debra Lattanzi Shutika, to record oral history interviews with coal miners, musicians, and artists in Beckley, Logan, Matewan and Charleston. The trip was organized in collaboration with the West Virginia Folklife Program. The 25 recordings will eventually be archived at the West Virginia and Regional History Collection at West Virginia University.
Credit Monica Gomez Isaac
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Documentary photographer Roger May being interviewed by field school student Shelly Cornwell with MacKenzie Edwards and Chris McGlone looking on. Amber Dube is wearing headphones and acting as recordist.
“I think it’s been a struggle for us to help people realize that everyone has a story, and everyone has a unique story,” said folklore student Luke Mitchem.
Mitchem is originally from Missouri, and he was reminded of his father, back home, in many of these humble responses from West Virginians. He said his father is the type of person who would say “nothing special’s happened in my life” other than his family.
“But I know for a fact that my dad has had a much fuller and richer life than he would initially admit to,” he added.
Like some of the other students, Mitchem said he found a connection to the people he met through this project, something he says he’s missed, while in school in northern Virginia. He said the kindness of West Virgininans was refreshing.
“It’s just a nice reminder that there is a lot of kindness out there and there’s a lot of love and there’s a lot of support for one another,” he said. “That’s probably one of the biggest things I’ve pulled from this trip this week.”
Credit Amber Dube
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Fieldschool student Shelly Cornwell interviews people at the West End Jamboree in Charleston
Retelling and saving all kinds of different folklore is something several of the students say does matter. Even though most of the conversations focused on stories of the past, Bridges, from Virginia, said these types of stories can teach young people, like herself, important lessons for the future.
“I feel like that old adage of history repeats itself is very important and very true,” she said. “We can learn a lot from the past and from our older folks, and I also feel like it’s important to just preserve the stories.”
The students said they hope to return to West Virginia one day, to revisit some of the people they met on this field trip, and to discover more of the unique culture here in our mountains.
Credit Luke Mitchem
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Mountaineer Opry House in Milton recently closed its doors after 45 years in operation. The students interviewed owner Larry Stevens on one of the last days they hosted live music at the Opry House
Folk artists, musicians, and chefs across the mountain state will be teaching their crafts to apprentices during 2018, as part of a new project by the West Virginia Folklife Program — a project of the West Virginia Humanities Council. The Humanities Council selected five master artist and apprentice pairs, including salt rising bakers, gospel musicians, and Appalachian fiddlers.
According to a press release from the Humanities Council, the goal of the program is to “facilitate the transmission of techniques and artistry of the forms, as well as their histories and traditions.”
The Apprenticeship program offers up to a $3,000 stipend to West Virginia master traditional artists or tradition bearers working with qualified apprentices on a year-long in-depth apprenticeship in their cultural expression or traditional art form.
The 2017-2018 master artists and apprentices include:
Genevieve Bardwell & West Virginia native Susan Ray Brown, both residents of Mount Morris, PA, will lead an apprenticeship in salt-rising bread with apprentice Amy Dawson of Lost Creek, WV. Bardwell and Brown opened Rising Creek Bakery in Mount Morris in 2010 and have documented and taught the Appalachian tradition of salt-rising bread baking across West Virginia. Dawson, a native of Harrison County, is a baker, cook, and farmer at Lost Creek Farm, a farm-to-table traveling kitchen.
Doris A. Fields of Beckley will lead an apprenticeship in blues and black gospel music with apprentice Xavier C. Oglesby of Huntington. Fields, who performs as Lady D and is known as West Virginia’s First Lady of Soul, has performed original and traditional blues, gospel, R&B, and soul across the state, region, and country, including for a President Obama Inaugural Ball. Oglesby grew up singing in black Pentecostal churches and has performed in local a capella and theatre groups.
Marion Harless of Kerens in Randolph County will lead an apprenticeship in green traditions with Kara Vaneck of Weston. Harless is a co-founder of the Mountain State Organic Growers and Buyers Association and the West Virginia Herb Association, and has taught widely on medicinal herbs, edible landscaping, and native plants. Vaneck is the owner of Smoke Camp Crafts and has served as vice president and treasurer of the West Virginia Herb Association.
John D. Morris of Ivydale will lead an apprenticeship on old-time fiddling, focusing on the traditions of Clay County, with Jen Iskow of Thomas. Morris is an acclaimed West Virginia fiddler and tradition bearer who has been honored by the Augusta Heritage Center, the West Virginia Music Hall of Fame, and the West Virginia Fiddler Award for his role in sustaining the tradition. Iskow, a West Virginia University alumni and marketing assistant at the Augusta Heritage Center, is an old-time fiddler who has studied with numerous masters of the tradition.
Doug Van Gundy of Elkins will lead an apprenticeship on old-time fiddling with apprentice Annie Stroud of Morgantown. Van Gundy, an eighth-generation West Virginian, apprenticed with fiddler Mose Coffman through the 1993 Augusta Heritage Apprenticeship Program. Stroud is a Greenbrier County native who plays fiddle with the Allegheny Hellbenders string band and is a member of the Morgantown Friends of Old-Time Music and Dance.
