This week on Inside Appalachia, a pair of former miners found love shoveling coal and shaped a life making wooden spoons. We learn about treenware. Also, NASCAR Hall of Famer Leonard Wood shares stories, and a bit of advice. And, group bike rides are a way to socialize and get outside. But here in Appalachia, newcomers are met with steep hills.
This week, a pair of former miners found love shoveling coal and shaped a life making wooden spoons. We learn about treenware.
Also, NASCAR Hall of Famer Leonard Wood shares stories, and a bit of advice.
And, group bike rides are a way to socialize and get outside. But here in Appalachia, newcomers are met with steep hills.
Stan and Sue Jennings turned a conversation about a passion into a business.
Photo Credit: Zack Gray/Allegheny Treenware
For 30 years, Sue and Stan Jennings have run Allegheny Treenware, a West Virginia company that makes wooden kitchen utensils. But they started off as a couple of coal miners. And when they weren’t underground, they talked about what else they could be doing.
Folkways Reporter Capri Cafaro visited the Jennings.
Hanging Out With NASCAR Legend Leonard Wood
Straight from the source at The Wood Brothers Racing Museum.
Photo Credit: Mason Adams/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Stock car racing’s roots run deep in Appalachia. Some of NASCAR’s early stars came straight from the lawless moonshine runners of the 1920s and 1930s, but NASCAR’s oldest continuous racing team had nothing to do with moonshine.
Mason Adams visited with Leonard Wood at The Wood Brothers Racing Museum in Virginia for stories and wisdom.
Exploring Morgantown On The Back Of A Bicycle
The ad-hoc Morgantown Social Rides aim to get cyclists onto the streets to explore the city in a new way.
Photo Credit: Chris Schulz/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
With spring, lots of folks are heading out to the woods or the rivers, but one group in Morgantown, West Virginia is taking to the streets – on their bicycles.
WVPB’s Chris Schulz grabbed his helmet and tagged along to explore his city in a new way.
Sovereignty At The Museum Of The Cherokee People
BPR’s Lilly Knoepp (left) spoke with Museum of the Cherokee People Director of Education Dakota Brown and Director of Collections Evan Mathis at the Appalachian Studies Conference on Friday March 8, 2024 at Western Carolina University.
BPR Senior Regional Reporter Lilly Knoepp spoke with Brown as part of a panel at the Appalachian Studies Association conference in March and sent us an excerpt.
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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by The Dirty River Boys, Charlie McCoy, John Blissard, Sierra Ferrell, and John Inghram.
Bill Lynch is our producer. Zander Aloi is our associate producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens. We had help this week from folkways editors Nicole Musgrave and Mallory Noe Payne.
You can send us an email: InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.
On a foggy morning, Angela Wynn heads into the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina. Normally, she’d be starting a day of work as a housekeeper here. But today, she’s at the school for a different reason. She’s here to learn how to cut out wood blanks from Richard Carter, a longtime Brasstown Carver.
This story originally aired in the March 3, 2024 episode of Inside Appalachia.
On a foggy morning, Angela Wynn heads into the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina. Normally, she’d be starting a day of work as a housekeeper here. But today, she’s at the school for a different reason. She’s here to learn how to cut out wood blanks from Richard Carter, a longtime Brasstown Carver.
The Brasstown Carvers were once so celebrated that in the 1930s, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt purchased some of their carvings as state gifts. Today, only a handful of Brasstown Carvers remain. But a dedicated teacher, an enthusiastic student and a supportive community are helping to keep this local craft tradition alive.
Wynn pays close attention as Carter flips through a binder of photos, diagrams and instructions. Using this pattern book as a guide, they’ll use a bandsaw to cut out wood shapes to carve into animal figurines.
Finished and in-progress carvings sit in front of a box of wood “blanks” or “patterns.” Carter is responsible for cutting out all the blanks for the Brasstown Carvers. The carvers then carve, sand, buff, finish and detail each figurine to arrive at the final product.
Photo Credit: Stefani Priskos/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Wynn began learning to carve about a year and a half ago, after moving to Brasstown from Florida. She had tried different crafts before, but this just felt different.
“I was instantly hooked,” Wynn says.
Well, almost instantly.
“The first carving night, I absolutely was clueless and I didn’t even know where to start,” she says. “I could see what I wanted to do, I just didn’t have the nerve to do it.”
Then, Wynn got some help from Carter.
“He was very generous with his praise on my first carving,” she says. “I look at it now and … it’s pretty sad. It was a squirrel. I still have it. I laugh at it now.”
There’s a long tradition of whittling and woodcarving in Brasstown, but being an official Brasstown Carver is a special honor.
“People want to know, ‘How quick can I get to be a Brasstown Carver?’” Carter says. “And it’s not quick.”
Big Carving Dreams? Start With Tiny Beavers
Some of the Brasstown Carvers’ signature carvings are “least ones” — tiny animal carvings that stand under two inches tall. Carving small is hard, which is why “least ones” are on the list of carvings that aspiring Brasstown Carvers must master. Wynn carved this pig and “gossiping goose,” two classic Brasstown animal patterns.
Photo Credit: Stefani Priskos/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Now 73, Carter grew up near the Folk School and has been a Brasstown Carver for almost 50 years. He says each aspiring Brasstown Carver has to complete a checklist of challenges to prove their skill and consistency. One of those challenges is carving “least ones” — tiny animal carvings that stand under two inches tall.
Carter and Wynn compare “least one” beavers. Carving side by side allows Carter to give Wynn feedback and demonstrate techniques in real time. It also encourages ample chit chat — another time-honored woodcarving tradition.
Photo Credit: Stefani Priskos/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Wynn has already successfully produced a “least one” goat, bear, goose and pig, among others. Today, she and Carter are carving tiny beavers out of basswood. As they work, Carter shows Wynn some shortcuts and tricks.
Wynn says she’s learned a lot from carving — including patience.
That’s something I can relate to on a personal level. I used to work at the Folk School, and I attended the carving nights that the Brasstown Carvers hold every week. I loved chatting with my neighbors while my hands were busy, but it was hard for me to see anything in the wood. I usually felt like I was getting nowhere.
But Carter says Wynn showed promise from her very first carving night.
“We watch people in here and we can tell when they’re going to be able to do real well and she does real good,” Carter says.
Being able to visualize the animal that a block of wood “wants” to become is key — and it’s one of Wynn’s favorite parts of carving.
“For me, the joy is just finding the animal in there and making it my own,” she says. “It’s just like a little surprise every time.”
Carter agrees.
“I know one of my great friends, he was here a month ago,” he says. “He took a bird home with him. And he brought it back last week and it was a little gnome.”
Although Brasstown Carvers all work from the same patterns, Wynn has enjoyed seeing her own personal style emerge as her carving skills have progressed. She has also developed her own original carving patterns, such as these walnut-shell hedgehogs on display at the John C. Campbell Folk School’s craft shop.
Photo Credit: Stefani Priskos/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Carvings Fit For A Future Queen
Brasstown Carvers Sally and Clarence Fleming carve on the porch of their house in Brasstown, North Carolina, circa 1935. Sally was known for carving pigs with curly tails. Brasstown Carvers hailed from around the region, including the nearby communities of Warne, Gum Log, Pine Log and Martins Creek.
The Brasstown Carvers were started by Olive Dame Campbell in the mid-1920s, a few years after she co-founded the John C. Campbell Folk School. The carvers were encouraged to carve what they saw — typically animals — and they became famous for their realistic figures. According to Caroline Baxter, the Folk School’s craft shop manager, the Brasstown Carvers program was part of Campbell’s larger vision of an economic future for Appalachians that didn’t require moving away from home.
“One of [Campbell’s] goals was to provide economic development for the carvers, give them a way to make money in the season where their fields were not being worked and they kind of had downtime,” Baxter says.
For many Brasstown Carvers, the earnings that they received from carving served as an important source of supplemental income. To express their gratitude, in 1947, the Brasstown Carvers organized a letter-writing campaign to Murrial “Murray” Martin, who was the carving instructor of the John C. Campbell Folk School from 1935 to 1973. In 2024, revenue from selling carvings is still a meaningful source of “side money” for Brasstown Carvers, although the money doesn’t stretch as far as it did in the 30s, 40s and 50s. The letters also mention other benefits of carving such as friendship, community, a meaningful and productive artistic hobby – which remain important to Brasstown Carvers today.
Photo Credit: Doris M. Reece/Courtesy Western Carolina University, John C. Campbell Folk School Records
The Brasstown Carvers soon began selling their work in shops across the country. By the 1930s, says Travis Souther, the Folk School’s archivist, Brasstown Carver fame had reached the White House.
“Some of those woodcarvings were purchased by [President Franklin D. Roosevelt] and Mrs. Roosevelt,” Souther says. “They were later given as gifts to a young lady who was living in England at the time.”
The young lady? Future Queen Elizabeth II.
There’s a legend in Brasstown about a family that was able to purchase a house during the Great Depression with the money they earned from carving alone. For today’s Brasstown Carvers, carving is still a meaningful source of extra income, but the earnings don’t stretch as far as they did during the carvers’ heyday. For one thing, carving requires immense hand strength and physical stamina, and many of the carvers now are in their 70s and 80s. For Wynn and Carter, carving is also something they fit in between other jobs and home and family responsibilities.
“It’s only side money now,” Wynn says. “I would love to be able to carve full-time, but I’m not to that point.”
A New Generation Of Carvers
These days, Wynn is more than just a student of Carter’s. At age 53, she’s the newest official member of the Brasstown Carvers, representing a new generation. To support her continued training, the North Carolina Arts Council recently awarded Carter and Wynn a folklife apprenticeship grant. Wynn says she looks forward to passing on what she learns to the nextgeneration of Brasstown Carvers.
On Thursday nights, the Brasstown Carvers host their free weekly carving night at the Folk School. It’s a place for experienced carvers to spend time together and talk shop.
A collection of Wynn’s “least ones” carvings at different stages in the carving process. From left to right: a wood blank of a goat; a carved and sanded bear; a finished pig and “gossiping goose.”
Photo Credit: Stefani Priskos/West Virginia Public BroadcastingEvery Thursday night, Brasstown Carvers, Folk School students and staff, and Brasstown locals of all ages gather for the Folk School’s community carving night. Attendees get to know each other as they try their hand at a new or long-loved craft.
Photo Credit: Stefani Priskos/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
It’s also a place for newcomers to try out carving. Carter and Wynn especially want to encourage young people to come.
“We got a young one, a nine-year-old, coming tonight, so hopefully he’s excited to get into this,” Carter says. “I’ve got a six-year-old at home that wants to do it, but I’m trying to hold out on that for a while. I may give him a bar of soap and something to let him work on.”
As the newest Brasstown Carver, Wynn has some advice for beginners:
“Don’t be afraid. Don’t be intimidated,” she says. “Just give it a shot. You never know what you can do until you try it.”
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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 West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts and culture.
Western North Carolina is home to one of the largest Hmong populations in the United States. Many Hmong families find ways to honor their culture through food. Tou and Chue Lee, owners of Lee’s One Fortune Farm, are one of those families.
This story originally aired in the Feb. 4, 2024 episode of Inside Appalachia.
When you think of rice, you might not think of Western North Carolina. However, Hmong farmers have been growing rice in the North Carolina mountains for nearly five decades.
Tou and Chue Lee are two of these farmers. They are the owners of Lee’s One Fortune Farm in Morganton, North Carolina. Named for the family legacy Tou and Chue hope to inspire, Lee’s One Fortune Farm aims to make fresh rice, along with Asian fruits and vegetables, accessible to local people.
The Lees grow multiple varieties of rice — sweet sticky, red and purple. They are also working with family members to develop a black shell variety they hope to sell within the next year. Fresh rice is unlike anything that you can find in a conventional supermarket. The sweet sticky rice is fragrant and somewhat chewy, while the red rice has a flavor similar to chestnuts. The purple rice is also nutty and has a deep inky purple color. The sweet sticky rice is one of the Lees’ most popular varieties.
“The sweet sticky rice has a very nice, kind of a honey, sugar cane aroma — a subtle freshness that is hard to explain,” Tou said.
The sweet sticky rice field at Lee’s One Fortune Farm in Morganton, North Carolina.
Credit: Rachel Moore/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
He likens the rice to a fresh loaf of bread. It may be hard to describe, but once you experience it, you will know what to look for.
Origin Story
While each of the rice varieties that the Lees grow is distinct, the sweet sticky rice has a legendary beginning in North Carolina. It started with a handful of seeds, passed down through a network of Hmong families.
“Someone visited Laos back in the 1980s after they came to the United States,” Tou said. “They were able to visit their families and acquire a few — I mean, not even ounces — worth of seed. I would say no more than maybe 40 to 50 seeds.”
The family planted the seeds in California. Tou said the rice grew, but it did not grow well because it was not suited for the California climate and terrain. So, the growers in California sent some rice seeds to friends in North Carolina — this is how Tou’s family acquired some. They planted the seeds just to see what would happen.
“Lo and behold, the thing germinated and took off and it almost grew as tall as a full grown adult,” Tou said.
The Lees have been growing the sweet sticky rice ever since. Tou said it has completely adapted to Western North Carolina.
“It started off as an heirloom from Laos, but as many years as it’s been here in Western North Carolina, it might as well be considered an heirloom in the Western North Carolina area,” said Tou.
Before and after: sweet sticky rice after it has been harvested and toasted (left), and sweet sticky rice after the hulling process (right).
Credit: Rachel Moore/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Blending Old And New Techniques
It may be considered an heirloom, but growing rice is still a lot of work. The Lees had to establish their rice field in a low-lying area about a mile from the rest of their farm. It does not grow in a conventional paddy, but the Lees do have to flood the field each year to ensure the rice has enough water, and to provide pest control.
Each year, Tou and Chue Lee flood their rice fields with 8–10 inches of water for pest control.
Credit: Rachel Moore/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
The Lees find ways to incorporate traditional Hmong practices throughout the growing season. Take seed saving. Each seed has to be hand selected. It is a time-consuming process.
“When the rice starts to mature, we actually go in there with buckets or bags and we walk around and hand select the most plump, the most well-defined rice that’s on the stalk, and we hand harvest those just for seed,” Tou said.
The Lees do implement more modern techniques during the harvesting process — by using a combine harvester, for example — but their hulling process looks similar to what it did when they were growing up in Laos.
Tou Lee and his aunt hull sweet sticky rice that has been harvested. First, the rice is boiled in a pot of water and debris from the field is skimmed off.
Credit: Rachel Moore/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
On a chilly October afternoon, Tou and Chue, along with Tou’s aunt, Pa Vang Lee, hull the rice. Hulling removes the outer layer of the rice, making it edible. First, Pa Vang scoops rice into a pot of boiling water. This allows the rice to sink and all the debris to float to the top so she can skim it off.
Then, Chue toasts the rice in a large wok over a gas flame. Toasting the rice starts the drying process and helps develop the flavor. The rice finishes drying on large tarps. When it dries, Tou runs it through the huller and it is ready to cook.
Chue Lee toasts rice in a wok to begin drying it before it can be hulled.
Credit: Rachel Moore/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
A Lasting Legacy
Growing rice may have its challenges, but the Lees believe it is important to keep doing.
When the Lees decided to settle down in Western North Carolina, Tou knew he didn’t want their culture to be hidden away in the background. The Lees bring their culture to the forefront by selling at farmers markets and introducing customers to Hmong foodways.
“The rice is something that brings our families back to remembering what our culture was in the old country and how we want to continue our culture here,” Tou said.
The rice is also an important piece of the Hmong new year, a huge annual celebration that takes place around Thanksgiving. In North Carolina, members of the Hmong community travel up to hundreds of miles to celebrate the holiday. Traditionally, this is when farmers would share their young, green rice with others.
“When the family gathers, you’ve got this fresh, new rice. You cook that and that is a means of making something that the whole family can enjoy together,” Tou said.
Now, the Lees are proud to share their rice with people outside of the Hmong community.
Rice is one of the Lees’ most popular items when they offer it at farmers markets. People line up long before the market opens to stock up. It was not always this easy for the Lees though. Tou said when he and Chue started selling at farmers markets a little over a decade ago, not many people knew what they were offering.
“I knew it was gonna be tough to start out with because people didn’t know what you have, so it’s a tough sell. We knew it would take a long time to develop it, and it did,” Tou said.
So, the Lees found their own ways to adapt. They share recipes and ideas with customers. Recipes like young, sticky green rice with succulent Hmong sausage, stuffed bitter melon or charcoal-roasted Japanese sweet potatoes, make Hmong cuisine accessible.
Tou and Chue Lee serve a meal of young, fresh sticky rice, Hmong sausage, hot sauce and an eggplant dip to guests of the Appalachian Sustainable Agriculture Project Farm Tour at Lee’s One Fortune Farm in September 2023.
Credit: Rachel Moore/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Now, people beyond the Hmong community know how special Lee’s One Fortune Farm is. They respect the rice and they respect the produce, coming back year after year to stock up. Tou and Chue were able to help make rice thrive in North Carolina, and the community has shown they are willing to support it.
“The rice just seems to be in its home,” Tou said.
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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 West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts and culture.
On a cold December night in Asheville, North Carolina, a group of about 20 people gather on a stranger’s front porch. Some of them have come together for the past decade to celebrate the holidays, build community, and, most important, wassail.
This story originally aired in the Dec. 24, 2023 episode of Inside Appalachia.
A Holiday Custom With English Roots
On a cold December night in Asheville, North Carolina, a group of about 20 people gather on a stranger’s front porch. Some of them have come together for the past decade to celebrate the holidays, build community, and, most important, wassail.
One of the wassailers knocks on the door. A woman opens it. “We’re wassailers and we would like to sing you songs,” said the leader of the wassailing group. “I’d be delighted,” the homeowner replies. The group burst into laughter and began to sing “Apple Tree Wassail” in four part harmony.
O lily-white lily, O lily-white pin, Please to come down and let us come in. Lily-white lily, O lily-white smock, Please to come down and pull back the lock. (It’s) our Wassa-ail jolly wassail Joy come to our jolly wassail
Apple Tree Wassail, Traditional, England
Saro Lynch-Thomason leads the Asheville group. At 36 years old, Lynch-Thomason wears her dark hair short on one side and long on the other. She sports a bright red scarf and a cluster of bells that ring when she walks. She explains that wassailing is a centuries-old tradition with English roots.
“The term ‘wassail’ comes from an Anglo-Saxon phrase that meant good health, so it was a toast to good health,” Lynch-Thomason said. “Wassail itself was a drink, usually made from ale and cooked apples and a lot of spices that would be served in households, often around Twelfth Night or Christmastime or New Year’s. And coincided with a tradition in the Middle Ages of working class folk, peasants, going to the homes of the wealthy and having this customary charitable exchange, where the working people are singing to and blessing the wealthy master and mistress of the house. And in exchange, they’re being gifted food, they’re being gifted cider and wassail. And they’re often being gifted money, as well.”
Good health to your house, may riches come soon, Bring us some cider, we’ll drink down the moon. It’s Our Wassa-ail jolly wassail Joy come to our jolly wassail
Apple Tree Wassail, Traditional, England
The Asheville wassailers do not ask for money, but after singing at a house decorated with bright holiday lights, they ask for another gift.
“As you heard in the last song, we did ask for alcohol several times,” Lynch-Thomason said.
The wassailers laugh, and the homeowner asks, “Do you want alcohol?”
“You guys have some cups. I can see that,” another household member observes.
Wassailing is not your typical round of Christmas caroling. It is more mischievous. And that is something that the Asheville group takes very seriously.
“This was a really fun and rowdy tradition,” Lynch-Thomason said. “And it eventually got displaced by caroling in the Victorian era. It was considered kind of too rambunctious by the emerging culture. And so, the spirit of what we’re trying to return to is that kind of raucous, fun feeling of these strangers with a party showing up at your door.”
There was an old farmer and he had an old cow But how to milk her he didn’t know how. He put his old cow down in his old barn, And a little more liquor won’t do us no harm. Harm me boys harm, harm me boys harm.
Apple Tree Wassail, Traditional, England
In fact, wassailing developed such a bad reputation for public drunkenness, it was banned by the Puritans in England and was highly discouraged by religious leaders who settled in the United States. But recently, the tradition has had a renaissance — in both England and America.
Wassailers sing outside a home in Asheville, North Carolina. Traditionally, wassailers not only sang for their neighbors, but also sang in apple orchards to ensure a good harvest for the coming year.
Credit: Rebecca Williams/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
One wassailer, Leila Weinstein, has been with the group for about five years. She explains what draws her to this tradition. “I love the old songs. I love ballads. I love all the medieval imagery,” Weinstein said. “And then just the comradery of singing together, and you know, lighting up the night with some song.”
For Caleb Magoon, wassailing is an excuse for a really good time. And it is a way of connecting to others. “It’s just getting together with people every year that you might not see otherwise, you know. And having a fun time being silly,” Magoon said.
But members of the Asheville group are not only drawn to wassailing because of the rowdy good time and the sense of community. For participants like Erin Gahan Clark, it is also a way to connect with the traditions of their ancestors.
“I think that for me, like I was raised in the Catholic faith and so I always knew about Christmas caroling,” Gahan Clark said. “But I feel like these songs, that are older, are connecting me to my well ancestors and like more ancient roots. And I just dig it. It feels good in my body.”
Wassailing As Connection To Ethnic Identity
Most of the wassailers in Asheville are white. And wassailing seems to help them connect to their ancestral traditions and ethnic identity. For Lynch-Thomason and many of her white peers, they feel disconnected from a sense of ethnic identity. And she said that here in the United States, that is by design.
“There’s been a long and very purposeful project of making people white here. Of having people forget their ancestral identities and becoming white as a way to create racial hierarchies and reinforce white supremacy,” Lynch-Thomason said. “When you came off the boat, you know at whatever period, there was a project here of making you become white, and forget your ancestral languages and traditions. And so today, white folks in this country are experiencing a lot of grief and have a lot of yearning for ancestral practices.”
Lynch-Thomason has experienced this grief of ethnic ambiguity firsthand. And when she was in her mid-20s, she decided to learn about the traditions of her ancestors.
“In my case, I have ancestors from England, Ireland, Scotland, Germany, Scandinavia, kind of all over the place. And there are several hundreds of years of separation from any of the traditions from those places. So I’ve sought out and learned from other people, English folk songs, Scottish ballads,” she said.
Lynch-Thomason said that connecting with these English and Scottish folk songs has had a big impact.
Wassail wassail all over the town Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown Our bowl it is made: Of the white maple tree With the wassailing bowl we’ll drink to thee
Gloucestershire Wassail, Traditional, Gloucestershire, England, Lyrics published Oxford Book of Carols, 1928
“There’s something really powerful to me about speaking words and singing songs, holding those vibrations, those words, those forms of knowledge in my body,” Lynch-Thomason said. “And knowing that people in my ancestry also sang these songs and held these words.”
Saro Lynch-Thomason (third from left) leads the wassailers in rehearsal. One of the songs the group performed, the “Boar’s Head Carol” was first published in 1521.
Credit: Rebecca Williams/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
The boar’s head as I understand Is the rarest dish in all this land Which thus bedecked with a gay garland Let us servire cantico (‘let us serve with a song’)
Boar’s Head Carol, Queens College version, Oxford, England, first published 1521
It is not always easy to learn songs and rituals that haven’t been passed down from generation to generation. There are challenges to singing a 700-year-old song.
During a rehearsal at Lynch-Thomason’s parents’ house in Asheville, the wassailing group struggles with Latin pronunciations.
“‘Servire’… I’m sure this is wrong. ‘Let us servire…’” Lynch-Thomason said to the group. “I’m changing this as I do it. ‘Let us servire cantico.’”
The wassailers repeat the phrase in unison, sounding unsure of their pronunciation.
“That’s some Lat-English right there,” declares Magoon.
It is messy trying to reconfigure a 15th century English tradition for 21st century Asheville. But Lynch-Thomason said it is important that white folks make the effort to learn about their ethnic identities and the practices of their ancestors.
“When we aren’t able to connect to those practices, we end up appropriating and attaching to other cultures, indigenous cultures, and African American cultures,” Lynch-Thomason said. “And it’s really important to understand that in Indigenous history here, and in African American history, song and dance traditions, and many spiritual traditions were illegal for a very, very long time. We have to think about how painful that is for white folks to then be trying to borrow or utilize those traditions without much context for them. When we as white people actually have those traditions in our ancestry that we can be seeking out in a healthier way.”
A Toast To The New Year
Old Christmas is past Twelfth Night is the last And we bid you adieu great joy to the new
Please to See the King, Traditional, Pembrokeshire, South Wales
Back on the porch, as the group finishes singing, one of the people in the house returns with a bottle of wine. One of the wassailers slips on a costume that looks like it was made out of red and blue rags. She wears a wreath on her head that is wrapped in fake ivy, with battery-operated candles on top — a sure cue that we’re no longer in the Middle Ages.
The wassailers begin to stomp and sing.
The ‘Spirit of the New Year’ toasts a household member while Saro Lynch-Thomason opens a bottle of cider. The ‘Spirit’s’ costume was modeled on a traditional mumming costume from the British Isles, which featured torn strips of fabric on the sleeves and legs.
Credit: Rebecca Williams/West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Spirit of Earth and Light, traveling through this winter night Will you bless those here with fortune in the coming year?
Spirit of Earth and Light, Lynch-Thomason, 2016, Asheville, NC
The Spirit of the New Year emerges from behind the singers and dances up to the owners of the house to make a toast. She tips her glass against the bottle of wine and people cheer.
“Did everyone get wine?” asks the woman in the house.
The wassailers shout goodbyes and thank yous as they leave the porch, their voices fading as they walk away.
“I just think we so badly need community. And there are so many ways that our current culture divides us from each other. And isolates us from each other. And when you get people together to sing together, something really, really powerful happens for us. And it happens in our bones, it happens at like this molecular level. And we need it,” Lynch-Thomason said. “And so to create that with a group of people, and then bring that as a gift to others, to say, even if you’re feeling isolated in your home or isolated in your community, we show up and we sing to you. That’s a powerful gift.”
We have traveled many miles Over hedges and stiles In search of our king Unto you we bring
Please to See the King, Traditional, Pembrokeshire, South Wales
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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 West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts and culture.
Wednesday made big waves with Rat Saw God when it came out in April. The music site Pitchfork gave it 8.8 out of 10 and named it Best New Music. Before Wednesday set out on a big European tour, Inside Appalachia Host Mason Adams caught up with Karly Hartzman.
This conversation originally airedin the Nov. 19, 2023 episode of Inside Appalachia.
Asheville indie rock band Wednesday has had an eventful 2023 so far, releasing an acclaimed album and touring the U.S. and Europe.
Wednesday is based in Asheville, North Carolina, and consists of singer Karly Hartzman and her partner Jake Lenderman on guitar, Xandy Chelmis on lap steel, Margo Schultz on bass and Alan Miller playing drums.
Before Wednesday set out on a big European tour, Inside Appalachia Host Mason Adams caught up with Karly Hartzman.
Wednesday’s 2023 album, Rat Saw God.
Courtesy
Adams: When I saw y’all play at Cat’s Cradle this summer, you talked about the importance of remaining in the South and staying where you’re at. So what compels you to stay in Western North Carolina there in Asheville?
Hartzman: The more places I see, the more I’m convinced that it’s the most beautiful place on the earth, and my favorite place on the earth. The more I travel, the more I’m affirmed in that. So I genuinely do just love the surroundings. I like the culture. I think Southern culture is one of the most intact. That’s one of the things about people being conservative, is they want to retain a lot of historical things. There’s a lot of negative stuff that goes along with being conservative, but there’s also a preservation of culture in a way. When it’s not a negative thing, it’s actually an interesting thing.
I went into an antique store the other day in Burnsville, [when] I was getting my license renewed, and there’s this super old guy. This lady was talking to him about all the stuff that she needed fixing around her house. And he was like, “Yeah, I can fix literally all of that.” Antique lamps and antique this-and-that. I just feel like a lot of that stuff is still intact here. There’s a lot of people who can’t stay here for fear of their life, obviously, and I totally understand them feeling like they need to escape whether it’s because they’re queer or they’re Black, with the police violence here. But if you’re not scared for your life, and you’re willing to fight for those who can’t, I think it’s a really good place with a lot of room to be productive.
There’s a ton of grassroots organization and people who are so passionate about change. And yeah, just the best food, too. I mean, they don’t got Bojangles anywhere else. So why would I live anywhere else?
Adams: There’s so much about the band that resonates with me, from its sound to the apparent musical influences. But the songwriting is just so incredible. It’s impressionistic and visual and rooted in place — but it also feels universal. How do your surroundings and experiences make your way into your music and your songs?
Hartzman: With any writing, I just think I’m impressed with people that are able to describe their own life in a way that captures how original everyone’s life is. It’s harder than you would think to find the things that make you and your life what it is. It’s a muscle, and obviously I’ve really worked it since I was a high schooler writing. I did poetry for a really long time and tried to find the little things that were interesting to me, and it tended to be outside of myself.
I find it really easy to get bored with my own thoughts in my own brain, so I look outside myself. That’s the one thing that I feel like a lot of people bring up about my writing, is that it’s kind of like a spectator. I try to look really closely about what’s going on that is specific to where I’m sitting, or where I’m at, at that moment. And once you build that muscle, it just comes to you. I find writing is the easiest part of the whole process because it’s happening around you all the time. If you live in a place that you’re inspired by — that’s why I am so attached to North Carolina and Asheville.
Adams: There’s so many songs I love on this record, but I wanted to ask you about “Bath County,” partly because I’m from Clifton Forge, which is adjacent. “Bath County” sprawls between eastern Tennessee and western Virginia, and it’s got all these memorable lines and visual images. Can you tell us just a little bit more about that song?
Hartzman: Jake’s mom is from Bath County, and she likes to go every, like once a year, maybe once every two years, to visit and go around her old stomping grounds. They’ll rent a house and we’ll go out there, and a lot of the visuals from that are from the drive up there. I saw a high school football game going on. It was the kind of game that happens around here, where you can just walk in and watch. There was a kid drinking a Fanta or maybe a Gatorade, I can’t remember, but it was fluorescent red and “Fanta” sounded better. So I went with that.
The other kind of section of that song about the guy who overdosed in his car was about something me and Jake saw on our way to Dollywood. We were going to go run around and try to have a good fun time, but on our way there, we stopped at a Chik-Fil-A, and the guy was surrounded by cops. I thought I was seeing a dead body for the first time, but luckily he sat up, but it took him a really long time. I was just struck by those two things. They had a similar tone, and that put them into the same song. That’s how a lot of my stuff is written.
Asheville band Wednesday.
Credit: Zachary Chick, courtesy of Wednesday
Adams: So you all have just come off this long national tour and you’re getting ready to head to Europe. How’s traveling and going on the road affect your perspective on home and where you live?
Hartzman: I think we’re still figuring that out. I think in the long run, success to us is really gonna mean that we’re able to spend more time at home. Right now, we’re not really able to do that. But whenever I talk to my bandmates, their goals in a lot of ways — except our drummer Allen loves being out on the road, he’s a total road dog — but everyone else is, ideally we would be able to do a month’s worth of touring instead of six months of touring or eight months, whatever we’ve been doing, and be able to sustain a life that’s comfortable at home for most of our time. Xandy just built a farm on his property, and it’s really hard for him to be away right now. Of course, I’m lucky because I have Jake out there and he’s my romantic partner, but everyone else was away from their loved ones. It’s really hard. So I think our dream would be to be able to spend the majority of our time in the place we love the most, which is Asheville. We love playing shows, but like yeah, it’s a pretty intense lifestyle.
Adams: Y’all have had such a big year this year with the album coming out and the sold-out tours. What wisdom have you taken away from these experiences you’re having?
Hartzman: Gosh, I mean, I learn something every day. I’m a huge introvert, there’s no way I would have the type of human connection that I have with my bandmates, the kind that comes from spending 24 hours with a group of people a day. It really shows me that human connection, even though it’s really difficult for me, is probably the most nourishing and important thing of life. Another thing I’ve learned is a lot of self-care stuff. I’m still figuring that out, because I don’t drink at home or really at all, but on tour it’s kind of necessary for me to get on stage sometimes.
So I’m trying to figure out my relationship with that, and I go to the sauna a lot when I can on tour. A lot of musicians end up being workout people and run. When they are on a tour bus, they’ll run during the day. I think that’s something I’ll have to start implementing. I never really understood why so many older musicians were such juice heads, but I understood, yeah you feel like sh*t on tour if you don’t do that, because there’s so much exposure to not the best food and a lot of drugs and alcohol. Which are fun, and I like to partake, but you’ve also got to balance that out with taking care of yourself.
Adams: What are y’all working on next?
Hartzman: Well, Jake’s album is going to be coming out. And then, our next album is written. We haven’t really practiced it as a band yet, but all of my songs are ready. It’s mostly just about finding time to practice them and then record them. It takes forever for that kind of stuff. But yeah, that’s something I really want to reaffirm to our audience, because the thing I hate most is when a band is received well, and then pivots in another direction or breaks under the pressure and just doesn’t release anymore good music.
I’ve been so intense about not letting that really affect how I write, any good or bad press. But I just feel, really, all the songs still feel the same to me as before. I feel like I’m still the same person writing. That’s what I’ve been trying to keep intact. But yeah, next one’s written, we’re just trying to figure out when to get it all down.
Caroleng Investments, based in the British Virgin Islands, said Bluestone Resources owes it $13 million and accused it of moving the helicopter last week from Roanoke, Virginia, to Burlington, North Carolina, to avoid paying.
A helicopter belonging to a coal company owned by Gov. Jim Justice has been moved from Virginia to North Carolina, a company that’s seeking the helicopter to settle a debt said in a court filing Tuesday.
Caroleng Investments, based in the British Virgin Islands, said Bluestone Resources owes it $13 million and accused the company of moving the helicopter last week from Roanoke, Virginia, to Burlington, North Carolina, to avoid paying.
Caroleng said it tracked the helicopter’s movement using the website flightaware.com.
In its filing Tuesday, Caroleng attorneys disputed Bluestone’s description of Caroleng as a shell company. Rather, they said, it said was “a special purpose investment vehicle that was created to invest in mining interests in West Virginia.”
The filing said Bluestone has a long list of unpaid creditors and is familiar with shell companies.
“Public financial filings indicate that they have created dozens, if not hundreds, of such entities, likely to thwart collection efforts by creditors such as Caroleng,” the attorneys said of Bluestone.
The filing goes on to say that a helicopter is “not essential” for a mining company, and that private air travel is “generally considered a luxury.”
“Without a helicopter, surely Bluestone executives can travel using alternatives,” the filing said.
Caroleng’s attorneys challenged Bluestone’s assertion that other creditors would be paid first. Bluestone could not intervene on its creditors’ behalf in the event they had an interest in the helicopter, the attorneys said.
Caroleng said a title search for the helicopter produced a single security interest in the name of 1st Source Bank of South Bend, Indiana. Caroleng’s filing said the bank would have to make an appearance in the proceeding to protect its interest in the helicopter, but had not yet done so.
Caroleng also said the court should order Bluestone to deliver the helicopter to the U.S. Marshals and deny the stay, “subject to being held in contempt of this court.”
