On May 1, 1930, labor leader “Mother” Jones celebrated her 100th birthday at a party in Maryland. The firebrand did what she did best: ruffle feathers. On this occasion, she denounced the nation’s prohibition on alcohol, saying it violated her right as an American to drink beer instead of water.
Mary Harris “Mother” Jones was beloved by the working class and reviled by the powerful for her colorful and often profane condemnations of coal operators and politicians. She visited West Virginia many times, describing conditions as being worse than in “Czarist Russia.” Jones was jailed in Parkersburg in 1902 for violating a court injunction. During the bloody Paint Creek-Cabin Creek strike, she was held under house arrest in Kanawha County.
But her stock fell with miners in 1921. At Marmet, “Mother” Jones tried to stop the armed march on Logan County before it started. The miners felt betrayed when she held up an apparently fake telegram from President Warren Harding. Despite this setback, she kept fighting for the underdog, becoming an ardent critic of child labor in the 1920s. She died seven months after celebrating her 100th birthday.
On any given Friday night, a parade of customized cars and trucks cruise from north to south and back again on Williamson Road in Roanoke, Virginia.
Modified with neon lights, spinning rims and streamlined spoilers, these vehicles do not necessarily scream “folk tradition”—but they are just the modern version of a long-running Appalachian tradition.
People in the mountains have tinkered with cars for as long as there have been cars. In the ‘20s and ‘30s, that often meant converting stock cars with bigger engines, stiffer suspensions and hidden compartments to hide bootlegged whiskey. That tradition formed the foundation for NASCAR and modern-day stock-car racing.
In a special report as part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Project, Mason Adams profiled one family about how car repairs have turned into a unique family tradition.
In Roanoke, the Bennett family is sustaining the automotive tradition another way, by restoring vintage cars into pristine conditions, and sometimes by building them from the frame out.
“I’m into the traditional style cars,” said Jeff Bennett. “That’s what I like. I like stuff that looked like it was built in 1960. My term there is, less is more.”
Jeff’s father, Jack Bennett, ran Perfection Auto Body in Roanoke for 25 years and died last year. Jeff now operates a custom auto shop out of his home, where his son Jeremy assists him with high-end body work.
“His [Jeff’s] father had been in the automotive business and was interested in hot rods,” says Roddy Moore, vintage car aficionado and retired director of the Blue Ridge Institute, a folklife center in Ferrum, Virginia. “Jeff grew up with that and that interest went from father to son, like it’s gone from Jeff to his son. So you’ve got three generations right there.”
The Bennetts are all about cars that are built correctly, from the ground up. They find old cars through Craigslist, Facebook Marketplace and word of mouth. They take those bodies and rebuild them to look brand new.
Credit Mason Adams / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Jeremy (left) and Jeff Bennett stand by a 1937 Ford pickup they rebuilt.
One of the cars in their shop sits stripped down to its frame, with only the engine and front seats sitting on it. The Bennetts will take this and build a new body for it. Sometimes they lower the body closer to the ground, but otherwise they tend to keep them as close to the original as possible.
Jeff spoke about a 1931 Ford Coupe he bought in North Carolina and rebuilt.
“I basically made the whole bottom of the car,” Jeff said. “It was rotted, all, built the frame. Built the whole car from nothing. There was really nothing there.”
Jeff learned those skills from his father, Jack, whose style was exemplified in the name of his shop: Perfection Auto Body.
“He was a perfectionist,” Jeff said. “I guess he tried to teach me to be a perfectionist also. You know his big thing is edges. Make sure the edge of everything is straight. Everything is perfect. Everything is fixed. “Edges will make you or break you, boy,” that’s what my dad would tell you.”
Jack passed away in September of 2018. More than a year later, Jeff is still processing his loss. What remains are his memories, and the lessons that his father passed to him. He recalled the first time he handled a professional paint job.
“We had a car sitting in the paint booth, and it had to be painted,” Jeff said. “He’s like, ‘You’re going to have to paint that car.’ I said, ‘I’ve never sprayed that stuff before.’ He said, ‘Well, just go in there and paint. That’s all I can tell you.’ I went in there and started prepping the car. I came back out of the paint booth.”
Jeff was struggling with the job. Jack called him over to a picnic table and sat him down. They had a beer and took a moment. Jeff tears up thinking about it, especially since Jack’s death.
“We sat there and had a beer,” Jeff said. “He said, ‘You feel better now?’ I said, ‘Yeah.’ He said, ‘Go paint the car.’ I went out and painted the car and it looked really, really good.”
Now, Jeff is passing that knowledge on to his son Jeremy.
“I guess he’s taught me everything really,” Jeremy said. “I mean, cause I didn’t know a clue about how to do anything before I started here when I was like 14.”
On a balmy autumn evening, Jeremy worked with Jeff in the shop. Jeremy meticulously buffed the inside of a car hood, preparing it for another layer of paint. Very few people notice the inside of a car’s hood. But for Jeremy and his dad Jeff, the inside of the hood is just as important as the parts of the car you do see.
Jeremy also has developed his own interest in restoring vintage Volkswagen Bugs. He has completely restored two so far, including one vanilla and mint Beetle he drives around sometimes. The body of a third sat in the shop, waiting for rebuild and a new life.
The Bennetts are keeping their family tradition alive, while carrying on the tradition of tinkering with cars – an Appalachian craft that has been flourishing since before Prohibition. Jeremy Bennett’s Volkswagen Bugs would not make the best bootlegging cars, though. There is not enough trunk space.
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 the night of November 7, 1775, the Reverend John Corbly and 12 others organized the Forks-of-Cheat Baptist Church. The meeting took place near Stewartstown, about six miles north of Morgantown.
The church remains in service today. As such, it is the oldest church in West Virginia west of the Alleghenies with continuous records. Its earliest artifact is the small hand-written minute book of that charter meeting in 1775.
Over the years, the congregation has developed a number of traditions to honor its heritage. Each July, it celebrates Homecoming Sundays and flies a British flag to mark the church’s original colonial status.
The most unusual tradition was started in 1963 by the Reverend Joseph C. Gluck, a West Virginia University professor and part-time pastor. At an annual picnic, Gluck would serve bear meat, a staple of the pioneer diet. He also inducted the picnic goers into the “World Bear Eaters’ Association.”
One tradition that was not started by the congregation unfolded in the 1920s. During Prohibition, a hollow marker in the church’s graveyard became a popular place for exchanging bootleg liquor.
On the night of November 7, 1775, the Reverend John Corbly and 12 others organized the Forks-of-Cheat Baptist Church. The meeting took place near Stewartstown, about six miles north of Morgantown.
The church remains in service today. As such, it is the oldest church in West Virginia west of the Alleghenies with continuous records. Its earliest artifact is the small hand-written minute book of that charter meeting in 1775.
Over the years, the congregation has developed a number of traditions to honor its heritage. Each July, it celebrates Homecoming Sundays and flies a British flag to mark the church’s original colonial status.
The most unusual tradition was started in 1963 by the Reverend Joseph C. Gluck, a West Virginia University professor and part-time pastor. At an annual picnic, Gluck would serve bear meat, a staple of the pioneer diet. He also inducted the picnic goers into the “World Bear Eaters’ Association.”
One tradition that was not started by the congregation unfolded in the 1920s. During Prohibition, a hollow marker in the church’s graveyard became a popular place for exchanging bootleg liquor.
Gangster “Big Bill” Lias was born on July 14, 1900 in either Greece or Wheeling. The uncertainty over his birthplace would later derail the government’s efforts to deport him.
The Prohibition era in America began just before Lias turned 20. Seeing an opportunity, he quit his family’s grocery business in Wheeling to sell illegal booze. After Prohibition was repealed, Lias moved into illegal gambling. And in 1939, when the numbers racket was made a felony, he launched a string of casino-nightclubs in Wheeling. He also played a major hand in the city’s prostitution business and became influential in local politics. In 1945, Lias purchased Wheeling Downs racetrack. Three years later, the federal government charged him with income tax evasion and, in 1952, seized his racetrack and other assets.
Lias’s organized crime empire was rife with violence, including gang wars and the mysterious death of his first wife. Thanks in large part to Lias, Wheeling became known nationally as a gambling hub.
Despite his criminal activities, though, he was often admired locally for his charity work. Big Bill Lias died in Wheeling in 1970 at age 69.
On May 1, 1930, labor leader “Mother” Jones celebrated her 100th birthday at a party in Maryland. The firebrand did what she did best: ruffle feathers. On this occasion, she denounced the nation’s prohibition on alcohol, saying it violated her right as an American to drink beer instead of water.
Mary Harris “Mother” Jones was beloved by the working class and reviled by the powerful for her colorful and often profane condemnations of coal operators and politicians. She visited West Virginia many times, describing conditions as being worse than in “Czarist Russia.” Jones was jailed in Parkersburg in 1902 for violating a court injunction. During the bloody Paint Creek-Cabin Creek strike, she was held under house arrest in Kanawha County.
But her stock fell with miners in 1921. At Marmet, “Mother” Jones tried to stop the armed march on Logan County before it started. The miners felt betrayed when she held up an apparently fake telegram from President Warren Harding. Despite this setback, she kept fighting for the underdog, becoming an ardent critic of child labor in the 1920s. She died seven months after celebrating her 100th birthday.
