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Sci-fi, Horror And Ghosts In Western Virginia

Inside Appalachia Host Mason Adams visited author Mike Allen’s Roanoke home to speak with him about his writing and publishing through Mythic Delirium.

This conversation originally aired in the Oct. 29, 2023 episode of Inside Appalachia.

Mike Allen is an award-winning science fiction, fantasy and horror writer based in Roanoke, Virginia.

Besides writing, Allen also runs Mythic Delirium. It started as a fanzine that published sci-fi poetry. Now it’s a publishing imprint that puts out books.

Inside Appalachia Host Mason Adams visited Allen’s Roanoke home to speak with him about his writing and publishing. Adams started by asking how Allen first got into fantasy and horror as a child in Wise, Virginia.

The transcript below has been lightly edited for clarity.

Allen: In third grade, my teacher read to us “The Raven” and “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe for Halloween. Most of the kids in the class reacted in one way that was kind of like, “Haha, that was cool.” Whereas I, being kind of a sheltered child who had no real way at that time to process the darkness that was in those stories, they really, really deeply freaked me out. In a way that reverberated for years. I had night terror after night terror. So that was one thing.

Another thing would have been that around that same time, the animated adaptation of “The Hobbit” came out on television. I watched it and thought it was really, really cool. My father, who was a really hardcore fan of J.R.R. Tolkien, watched it with me. When he heard me talking about how much I liked it, he said, “Ah, that was terrible. It’s nowhere near as good as the book!” And [he] made me read “The Hobbit.” That started me reading “The Lord of the Rings” and books that were kind of connected, like the “Chronicles of Narnia” by Tolkien’s buddy, C.S. Lewis, and from there expanding to many more works of fantasy.

In Wise, there was, I believe still is, a small public library. That to me became a sort of castle of adventure. I recall walking to it up this very steep hill, and going exploring, looking for all these different fantasy and science fiction and eventually even horror books that I essentially learned about through my own research.

From left, authors Rod Belcher, Mike Allen and Amanda McGee during an event at Book No Further in Roanoke, Virginia.

*Photo courtesy of Mike Allen*

Adams: When did you actually start writing?

Allen: My final year of college — this would have been in ‘92 — I sold, and I suppose I could put “sold” in quotes, a kind of cyberpunk-ish, short story to a zine called “Gateways.” This was a pay-in-copies zine, which means that you were paid with a copy of the zine. That gave me just enough encouragement that I began to pursue it with pretty ferocious dedication.

Adams: So can you tell me a little bit about how you got from that point, as an undergraduate at Virginia Tech, to where we are today, sitting on your couch here in Roanoke?

Allen: The publications I was able to land after I graduated from Virginia Tech ended up laying enough groundwork that I was able to apply to and get accepted into the Hollins University creative writing program. The final thing I wrote at Hollins became the kernel of what was my first professionally published story, a science fiction story called “Stolen Souls.”

Fast forward to a year after I graduated from Hollins, I took on my first editing project. That project was an anthology called “New Dominions: Fantasy Stories by Virginia Writers” — and it’s one where I paid in-copy to the people who participated because that was still a somewhat acceptable thing then for a zine. To skip ahead again, my experience with “New Dominions” is what laid the groundwork for me to start the zine “Mythic Delirium.”

That zine created a platform where I ended up actually working with the likes of Ursula K. Le Guin, Neil Gaiman, Joe Haldeman, Ian Watson, Jane Yolen, and a number of writers who were just kind of starting out as I was starting out who have gone on to become huge in the field like Catherynne M. Valente or Ken Liu. They had pieces appear in “Mythic Delirium.” I also began publishing books by some of the authors that I worked with. And that is what I still do now.

Adams: I’m curious as to what you see when you look at Appalachia. What’s it look like from your perspective in the sci-fi/fantasy/horror world?

Allen: So here’s an interesting thing for me: Roanoke is unique. Some of it, I think, actually goes back to Nelson Bond having been based here, who was extremely active in the 1930s and ‘40s and ‘50s in the magazine scene that existed at that time. Writers like Sharyn McCrumb were making Roanoke, or at least the Roanoke region, their home base. Roanoke has this very robust culture for celebrating its writers, regardless of what they write. Those of us who are based here like myself, like Rod Belcher, who writes under the name R.S. Belcher, or Amanda McGee, who’s an up-and-coming writer whose work is definitely Appalachian and has a bit of witchery involved, we’ve experienced the benefit of that.

There’s no way for me to kind of sweepingly talk about everybody with an Appalachian connection. But there are some I do want to mention. Nathan Ballingrud, who lives in Asheville, is a horror writer who’s had some really high profile things happen lately. His first short story collection, “North American Lake Monsters,” was adapted into the Hulu series, “Monsterland.” The title story in that book, he considers to be an Appalachian story. I mentioned Rod Belcher whose novels have events in West Virginia and the Carolinas. Manly Wade Wellman might be the classic Golden Age writer who’s most associated with the Appalachians. He has a series of stories about John the Balladeer, or Silver John, who is a gentleman who has a guitar strung with silver strings. He wanders through this magical realist version of the Appalachian Mountains and has encounters that are very much based on Appalachian folklore.

Other writers I wanted to mention: Barbara Hancock, who writes under Willa Reece, lives in Ferrum, Virginia. And Cherie Priest, who lives out on the west coast, but whose debut “Four and Twenty Blackbirds” was based in Chattanooga, when she lived there. She wrote a whole trilogy based in the folklore of that region. She may be best known for the novel “Boneshaker,” which combines zombies with steampunk. It kind of hit like at the perfect time to do that, and it was a pretty big hit.

Adams: For people who are interested, what’s the entry point into your work that you’d recommend for them?

Allen: I don’t know that I would call myself a straight up horror writer. But whenever I write, whether it’s science fiction, or fantasy, or mystery, or what have you, it always ends up with a really strong horror element. I have two collections of short stories. One is called “Unseaming” and one is called “Aftermath of an Industrial Accident,” and they both contain a lot of stories that are very explicitly set in Appalachia in southwest Virginia.

Mike Allen is a writer, editor and publisher of Mythic Delirium Books.

Anita Allen, A Paranormal Investigator

Mason Adams also interviewed Mike Allen’s wife Anita Allen, a paranormal investigator who is working on nonfiction books to be published under an imprint of Mythic Delirium Books.

Anita Allen: We moved here in ‘71. And then when I was in first grade, something moved into my parents house. To this day, I still don’t know what it is. It’s not human. We know that. And it’s not aggressive. So it was just something we learn to live with. My sister and I named him “Larry.” Trying to figure out what Larry was, is what got me into research.

My mom’s response to pretty much any question of “why?” was, “There’s a book, look it up.” We had the Encyclopedia Britannica in the same room that the ghost lived in. So if you wanted to figure out what the ghost was, you had to sit in the basement with the encyclopedia and try to figure it out.

It took me a little bit to realize that science didn’t know and didn’t have the answer for what that was.

Adams: Can you describe another case?

Allen: When we moved in, the gentleman that lived here was actually killed by hit-and-run right out front here by the mailbox. His cat came with the house. And from growing up dealing with my ghosts, I’m very comfortable communicating with ghosts. I don’t have a problem with it. It’s kind of second nature.

So I knew there was a ghost here. And I was a little concerned about that. I was hoping he would leave as soon as we moved in. But he made it very clear: We were welcome. I did all the things you do to let them know you’re moving in. Basically, the reason he was staying was his cat. He wanted to make sure that she was okay. And so he stayed on for about 10 years until she passed.

The day she passed, he was gone with her.

Virginia’s Mythic Delirium And Our Song Of The Week On This West Virginia Morning

On this West Virginia Morning, Virginia-based writer Mike Allen runs Mythic Delirium. It started out as a sci-fi poetry zine, but now it publishes books. Inside Appalachia Host Mason Adams spoke with Allen about sci-fi, fantasy and horror in Appalachia.

On this West Virginia Morning, Virginia-based writer Mike Allen runs Mythic Delirium. It started out as a sci-fi poetry zine, but now it publishes books. Inside Appalachia Host Mason Adams spoke with Allen about sci-fi, fantasy and horror in Appalachia.

Also, in this show, our Mountain Stage Song of the Week comes to us from newgrass pioneer and mandolinist Sam Bush who has performed on Mountain Stage more than eight times. We listen to his performance of “I’m Still Here.”

West Virginia Morning is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting which is solely responsible for its content.

Support for our news bureaus comes from Shepherd University.

Our Appalachia Health News project is made possible with support from CAMC and Marshall Health.

West Virginia Morning is produced with help from Bill Lynch, Briana Heaney, Caroline MacGregor, Chris Schulz, Curtis Tate, Emily Rice, Eric Douglas, Liz McCormick, and Randy Yohe.

Eric Douglas is our news director. Caroline MacGregor is our assistant news director and producer.

Listen to West Virginia Morning weekdays at 7:43 a.m. on WVPB Radio or subscribe to the podcast and never miss an episode. #WVMorning

Encore: What Is Appalachia? We Asked People From Around The Region. Here’s What They Said.

Politically, Appalachia encompasses 423 counties across 13 states — and West Virginia’s the only state entirely inside the region. That leaves so much room for geographic and cultural variation, as well as many different views on what Appalachia really is. For Inside Appalachia, we turned our entire episode over to the question, “What is Appalachia?”

This week, we’re revisiting our episode “What Is Appalachia?” from December 2021.

Appalachia connects mountainous parts of the South, the Midwest, the Rust Belt and even the Northeast. The Appalachian Regional Commission (ARC) defined the boundaries for Appalachia in 1965 with the creation of the Appalachian Regional Commission, a part of Lyndon B. Johnson’s War on Poverty. It was legislation that sought to expand social welfare, and some localities were eager for the money, while others resisted the designation. The boundaries and definition of Appalachia can now only be changed by an act of Congress.

Politically, Appalachia encompasses 423 counties across 13 states — and West Virginia’s the only state entirely inside the region.

That leaves so much room for geographic and cultural variation, as well as many different views on what Appalachia really is.

For Inside Appalachia, we turned our entire episode over to the question, “What is Appalachia?” With stories from Mississippi to Pittsburgh, we asked people across our region whether they consider themselves to be Appalachian.

A 1996 map that shows the southern part of Appalachia, as defined by John Alexander Williams.

Mississippi

Bob Owens is a watermelon farmer outside New Houlka, in the northeastern part of Mississippi. Owens said he was aware that Mississippi is part of Appalachia, but that no one in the state would consider themselves Appalachian. “I consider myself the worst redneck you’ve ever seen,” Owens said. “I live in the area of the Appalachian mountain range — not part of it, but close to it. So I guess you call me a redneck Appalachian.” This is the general consensus among the people in Mississippi who Inside Appalachia spoke to.

Geographically, the foothills of the Appalachian mountain range are located in northern Mississippi. The state’s tallest point is Woodall Mountain, 806 feet in elevation. For reference, the highest point in North Carolina, Mount Mitchell, is more than 6,600 feet in elevation, eight times higher than Woodall Mountain.

Co-host Caitlin Tan spoke with Texas State University history professor Justin Randolph, who wrote an essay for “Southern Cultures” called “The Making of Appalachian Mississippi.” Randolph argues in his essay that Mississippi became part of Appalachia for political and racial reasons, as well as economic advantages the designation brought to the 24 counties in Mississippi that were included in the ARC’s boundaries.

Shenandoah Valley

In the 1960s, while some localities were clamoring to get into Appalachia, on the eastern edge of the region, some lawmakers fought to keep their counties outside the boundaries, including politicians in Roanoke, Virginia and the Shenandoah Valley.

Appalachian Studies associate professor Emily Satterwhite said explaining to her students why some counties in Virginia are included in Appalachia, but others aren’t, is confusing. “The students in front of me are wondering why they’re not included,” White said.

Pittsburgh

Appalachia’s largest city is Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When we asked people from that city to tell us if they consider it a part of Appalachia, about half said no. “I definitely do not feel that I am Appalachian culturally,” said Mark Jovanovich, who grew up just outside Pittsburgh’s city limits in the Woodland Hills area. “Personally, I would consider the city of Pittsburgh is sort of like a mini New York City. I guess we’d probably be lumped in as like a Rust Belt city, which makes enough sense, but definitely not Appalachian culturally.”

Writer Brian O’Neill disagrees. He wrote a book called The Paris of Appalachia: Pittsburgh in the Twenty-First Century. “My original title for the book was, ‘I love Pittsburgh like a brother and my brother drives me nuts.’”

An editor advised him to change the title of his book to a phrase that he said is sometimes used to refer to Pittsburgh derisively. “I couldn’t figure out why that should be a putdown, because Paris is nice. And Appalachia is a beautiful part of the world. And if we were called the Paris of the Rockies, we wouldn’t run from that. So why would we run from this? Why don’t we embrace it? So that became the title of my book.”

He said that geographically, Pittsburgh is clearly in the Appalachian Mountains. “I mean, this is one mountain range that stretches from Georgia to Maine. And the idea that it belongs only to the southern part of the mountain range defies logic to me,” O’Neill said.

What Do You Think?

How about you? Do you call yourself an Appalachian? Why or why not? Send an email to InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.

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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by John Wyatt, John R Miller, Alan Cathead Johnston, and Dinosaur Burps. Roxy Todd originally produced this episode. Bill Lynch is our current producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Zander Aloi is our associate producer. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens.

You can find us on Instagram, Threads and Twitter @InAppalachia. Or here on Facebook.

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Inside Appalachia is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting.

Tazewell, Virginia Family Keeps Black Poetry Alive For Today’s Generation

For nearly 100 years, Jeanette Wilson’s family has used poetry to share stories of African American life in southwest Virginia. Now those poems are reaching a wider community – and a new generation.

This story originally aired in the Sept. 10, 2023 episode of Inside Appalachia.

Jeanette Wilson thinks she was about five years old when she heard one of her grandfather’s poems for the first time. Her aunt Edna used to recite them to the children. “She would say them and we’d be cuddled in her bed, like story time,” Wilson said.

Wilson’s aunt Edna Dickerson Moore with Wilson’s grandson, the fifth generation who will know the family poetry. Aunt Edna was also known for her poetry and storytelling.

*Courtesy Jeanette Wilson*

Some of her grandfather’s poems were matched with tunes to make it easier for the children to memorize. “He made up a song, ‘Dickerson Boys Are We’ and it would go something like, ‘All those biscuits in that oven/ How I wish I had some of them/ Sop, sop, the goodness I declare/ All them molasses on that plate/ Something something/ Don’t be too late.’ I can’t remember it all, but they used to sing it all the time,” Wilson said.

Rev. George Mills Dickerson, center, surrounded by his sons, many of whom moved away to pursue higher education.

*Courtesy of Jeanette Wilson*

Her grandfather was the Reverend George Mills Dickerson. She called him Papa. He was born in 1871 in Mudfork, a freed slave community near Tazewell, Virginia. He attended Virginia State University, and taught school in the segregated schools for 25 years, at a time when public education for Black students only went to the seventh grade.

Dickerson became an ordained minister in 1898 and preached for more than 50 years. He married more than 1,000 couples at the Tazewell County Courthouse. His ceremony was poetic and often drew courthouse workers to listen in.

Over his lifetime, Dickerson wrote hundreds of poems. He wrote poems about Black children making the long trek to a school in TipTop, about soldiers coming home from World War I with shell-shock, about the development of cities within his region, and one poem about the city of heaven. There were family poems, Tazewell poems, landscape poems and love poems. Themes of his Christian faith were woven throughout.

Rev. George M. Dickerson, standing top left, at a family reunion in 1936 with most of his 16 children and his grandchildren. He formed a neighborhood children’s drama group called the “Rock Alecks” and taught children how to sing shape notes. Many of his poems were about family life.

*Courtesy of Jeanette Wilson*

Black Community Shares Poetry

One poem, the Outcast Stranger, was about a poor man who found shelter in a preacher’s woodshed before he died. It became a favorite in Tazewell’s Black community.

Wilson says she was shopping one day and ran into a man who asked her for a copy of the poem. “And he told me the story of how he memorized it,” she said. “When he got in trouble, his mom would send him upstairs and say, ‘Now you go memorize one of George M.’s poems.’ And he would come down and recite it to her. He said, ‘Please can you get me a copy, because I love that poem,” Wilson said.

One thing that helped the poetry to circulate in the family and community was that her grandfather copyrighted and published more than 100 of his poems as a paperback book. They were printed by the Hilltop Record, a newspaper company in Columbus, Ohio in 1949. Years later, one of Jeanette’s uncles had more printed.

“I’m so thankful they got these books published,” Wilson said, “because they would have been lost. And it’s our history. You can just imagine how they were doing things from reading the poetry.”

Poetry Tracks History

Joseph Bundy is an African American poet, playwright and community historian based in Roanoke. He said many of Dickerson’s poems provide a historical track of Black life in southwest Virginia in the first half of the 20thcentury. They also show Dickerson’s aspirations for his people.

Commenting on the poem “Black Folks Coming,” Bundy said, “I think he was really way ahead of his time. Instead of saying ‘Negros coming’ or ‘colored folks coming,’ he’s saying ‘Black Folks Coming.’ He was not letting someone else name us. He is naming himself. He’s saying our roots come from Black Africa.”

In the fields of old Virginia.
And on Georgia’s sunny plain.
Africa’s able sons and daughters
Sing a hopeful glad refrain.

They have leaders true and faithful
Men and women brave and strong.
Armed with love, instilled with duty,
Working hard and waiting long.

Douglas struggling up from slavery,
Bruce and Scott, if I had space,
I can name a thousand heroes
Champions of this race.

Bundy said he thinks Dickerson’s poems convey a Booker T. Washington-like philosophy, showing the dignity of all labor. “He’s talking about growing corn, working in the coal mine, and he doesn’t seem to place one occupation or one thing above another. He sees dignity in all of it.”

In the pulpit, in the workshop,
On the railroad, on the farm,
In the schoolroom, mine in factory,
There was power, in brain and arm.

Ignorance shall flee before them.
Hate shall hide his ugly head.
Idleness shall be discouraged
Honest toil shall earn its bread.

Dickerson could write on an everyday level, Bundy said, but also on a high level. “This man, he could definitely write,” he said. If Dickerson had, had more than a local audience, Bundy said, “he could have been like a Langston Hughes or somebody. He could have really been known.”

Joseph Bundy reads from Rev. Dickerson’s book of poems, copyrighted 1949. The book is dedicated to his first wife Sarah and second wife Mary, and his 16 children.

*Credit: Connie Kitts/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Tradition Carries On With Son

Rev. George Mills Dickerson died in 1953. But the tradition of writing poetry carried on with his son George Murray Dickerson. This George Dickerson, who is Jeanette Wilson’s uncle, was born in 1917. He was well known throughout the region for his recitation.

His poems were humorous and topical.

We’ve got a President today,
His name is Richard Nixon.
From what I hear and read about,
This country needs some fixin‘.

Uncle George recited his poems in the public schools, at the community college, local museums, libraries and festivals. He recorded them on cassette tape and made a 45 rpm vinyl single that was sold throughout the community as a fundraiser for the Tazewell Rescue Squad.

Four of George Murray Dickerson’s poems were recorded on a 45 rpm vinyl.

*Credit: Connie Kitts/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

I’ve always wanted to ride in a Rescue Ambulance
I think I’m gonna try it if I ever get a chance
But I have a couple of questions I’d like to ask you first
Cause some of the folks who ride these things
Wind up in a hearse.

He printed a handful of his poems and sold them as a tri-fold pamphlet. When the town held its summer festival on Main Street, Wilson said, “[Uncle George] would be selling his little booklets, and setting up his little tent and reciting poems.”

Together, the poetry of Wilson’s grandfather and uncle spanned momentous points in African American history. “Papa was right out of slavery,” Wilson said, “and Uncle George’s was right after the Civil Rights Movement.”

George Murray Dickerson was the topic of a research paper for an American Studies class at Southwest Virginia Community College. Holding a student sketch, former college president Charles King dubbed Dickerson “Poet Laureate of Southwest Virginia.”

*Credit: Connie Kitts/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Juneteenth Returns Poems To Broader Community And New Generation

After Uncle George died in 1999, Wilson said the family continued to read his poems – and her grandfather’s, too – at reunions and church events. But the community as a whole began to lose touch with the poetry.

That started to change in 2021. The Town of Tazewell passed a Juneteenth resolution that called for honoring contributions African Americans made to the town and the region. Now, the Dickersons’ poems are read aloud as part of the town’s Juneteenth celebrations.

During the 2023 Juneteenth program, Steve Rainey, left, reads “The Hills of Old Virginia” by his grandfather Rev. Dickerson, and Bettie Wallace, right, read “‘Cause I’m Colored” by George Murray Dickerson.

*Courtesy of Vanessa Rebentisch*

Bettie Wallace read the poem “‘Cause I’m Colored” by Uncle George at Tazewell’s 2023 Juneteenth Celebration.

Everybody picks on me,
‘Cause I’m Colored.
They don’t think I want to be free
‘Cause I’m Colored.

They won’t give me a decent job,
And claim that I just steal and rob;
And they call me “boy” when my name is “Bob”,
‘Cause I’m Colored…

I thought one time I’d try to pass
And then I looked in the looking glass;
My hopes went down the drain real fast,
‘Cause I’m Colored.

Wallace, 72, said this poem, written in 1973, has special meaning for her.

“I can relate to it so much,” Wallace said. “Coming up, so many things we couldn’t do, not just because I’m colored, but because I’m a dark-skinned colored person. Most of my life people would say, ‘Oh you dark skinned, you can’t do this.’ I did not learn that Black was beautiful until Black became beautiful – that the color of my skin was a very important part of me,” she said.

Wallace said she has known Uncle George’s poetry for years. But now his poems are finding a new audience as well. BrookeAnn Creasy, 18, is starting to write poetry herself. She first heard Dickerson’s poems at the Juneteenth celebration, and she said while they are sometimes funny, they’re also eye opening.

“When you hear poems from other times, like segregation – it makes you understand what we don’t understand. Because I’m a white person. I don’t get to experience discrimination like Black people do. And that’s why I think a lot of people show arrogance, because they don’t like to learn about other people’s perspectives. Because that’s important…empathy,” Creasy said.

Wilson, left, and BrookeAnn Creasy, right. Creasy said she thinks Dickerson’s poems should be included in the school curriculum. “If you’re going to learn poems, don’t include just white poetry. Include all the sides of southwest Virginia.” The humor and short format of Uncle George’s poems, she said, is a good fit for kids like her who have grown up with social media.

*Credit: Connie Kitts/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

As for Wilson, she said empathy and equality were recurring themes in her grandfather and uncle’s poems.

“I think they both had the same idea, about life in general for anybody,” said Wilson. “Not just the Black people but everybody – the idea to just have equality for rich, poor, Black, white, you know. Everybody has a part in this world.”

In 2020, Tazewell citizens voted to keep the statue of a Confederate soldier in front of the courthouse. The county then supported a citizens-initiated mural of 16 local African Americans – including the Dickersons – with placards telling their stories as well.

*Credit: Connie Kitts/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

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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.

Celebrating A Tradition Of Poets And Discussing The Resurgence Of Black Lung, Inside Appalachia

This week on Inside Appalachia, Rev. George Mills Dickerson of Tazewell, Virginia was born in the years after slavery ended. He’s remembered today through his poetry. And a new wave of black lung disease is ravaging Appalachia. We’ll hear more from a black lung town hall in Whitesburg, Kentucky. Coal miners have their own thoughts about black lung, too.

This week, Rev. George Mills Dickerson of Tazewell, Virginia was born in the years after slavery ended. He’s remembered today through his poetry.

And a new wave of black lung disease is ravaging Appalachia. We’ll hear more from a black lung town hall in Whitesburg, Kentucky. Coal miners have their own thoughts about black lung, too.

You’ll hear these stories and more this week, Inside Appalachia.

In This Episode:

Celebrating Poetry About 20th Century African American Life
The Voices Of Black Lung Miners
Black Lung Town Hall Meeting In Kentucky

Celebrating Poetry About 20th Century African American Life

Poetry has been a tradition in Jeanette Wilson’s family for generations. They’ve recited the poems of Wilson’s grandfather and her uncle George for nearly a century. Now, these poems about African American life in southwest Virginia are reaching a wider audience — and connecting the past to the present.

Folkways Reporter Connie Kitts brings us this story.

The Voices Of Black Lung Miners

For years, it looked like black lung disease was on the decline, but a new epidemic has emerged. In 2018, NPR and the PBS program Frontline investigated a resurgence of advanced black lung among coal miners across Appalachia. They found that despite mounting evidence and a stream of warnings, federal regulators and mining companies failed to protect workers.

The result was that thousands of miners were afflicted with an advanced stage of black lung disease — known as Progressive Massive Fibrosis.

We bring this story from the miners themselves, as told to NPR’s Howard Berkes and Ohio Valley ReSource reporter Benny Becker. It was originally broadcast on NPR’s All Things Considered on Jan. 22, 2019. The full documentary Coal’s Deadly Dust is available on pbs.org.

Black Lung Town Hall Meeting In Kentucky

In July, the Appalachian Citizens Law Center hosted a black lung town hall in Whitesburg, Kentucky. The nonprofit law firm invited miners and their families to hear from experts about the current state of black lung disease in Appalachia. One of those experts is Kentucky radiologist James Brandon Crum, who first alerted federal researchers to what they later labeled an epidemic of complicated black lung.

WMMT in Whitesburg recorded the meeting for its program Mountain Talk. What Dr. Crum has to say is eye-opening — especially if you’re not part of the coal mining community.

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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by Jeff Ellis, Charlie McCoy, Southern Culture on the Skids, June Carter Cash, and Tim and Dave Bing

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.

You can send us an email: InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.

You can find us on Instagram, Threads and Twitter @InAppalachia. Or here on Facebook.

Sign-up for the Inside Appalachia Newsletter!

Inside Appalachia is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting.

How A Legendary Virginia Recording Studio Is Changing With The Times

Flat Five Studio has frequently evolved to keep track with the rapidly changing music industry. Now, as a new owner takes the helm, the studio is trying new things while still remaining grounded in the fundamental art of expert music production.

This story originally aired in the Aug. 27, 2023 episode of Inside Appalachia.

Flat Five Studio has frequently evolved to keep track with the rapidly changing music industry.

Now, as a new owner takes the helm, the studio is trying new things while still remaining grounded in the fundamental art of expert music production.

Located in Salem, Virginia, Flat Five Studio has been around since the 1980s. It was founded by Tom Ohmsen, who grew up around music. His uncle played trumpet in jazz bands, and bought him his first tape recorder when he was just a kid.

“I got just a basic quarter inch reel-to-reel recorder with a cheap microphone,” Ohmsen said.

Ohmsen’s family moved around but eventually settled in western Virginia. When Ohmsen went to college at James Madison University, he started playing his own music, beginning with a roommate’s mandolin. Ohmsen also got into college radio, which gave him the chance to practice his recording skills with high-level bluegrass musicians. He would travel to nearby festivals and eventually hosted musicians in-studio.

“Those people were demanding that somebody mix them according to the protocol of bluegrass and old time music, and I just happened to be in that world,” Ohmsen said.

Ohmsen recorded bluegrass artists such as Bill Monroe, Ralph Stanley and Seldom Scene. The experience gave him the chance to rub shoulders with famous musicians, while also honing his recording skills.

A sign in Flat Five includes a photo of Tom Ohmsen with the acronym “WWTD” — or, “What would Tom do?”

*Credit: Mason Adams/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

Ohmsen eventually opened his own recording studio — first in his house and then in a space in downtown Salem, Virginia. Flat Five Press & Recording catered to local bands, and to bluegrass musicians who knew Ohmsen would record them properly.

Then, one day, Ohmsen got a call from the owner of a Roanoke-based sound and event company. It turned out a Charlottesville promoter was looking for a quiet, out-of-the-way place for a band to record an album. But there was a catch — Ohmsen had to keep it a secret.

“They tried to record at a studio in Charlottesville, and the recording was going okay, but there was such a buzz that they couldn’t get anything done,” Ohmsen said. “Crowds of people were showing up, because it was a local sensation. So it was this undercover thing for six or eight months.”

And that’s how Dave Matthews Band ended up at Flat Five.

They recorded between 150 and 200 hours for songs that became part of the band’s debut album “Remember Two Things.” The album was released in the fall of 1993. Soon after, Dave Matthews Band exploded in popularity, becoming one of the defining acts of the 1990s. That, in turn, made Flat Five a hot destination for bands hoping to make a splash.

Flat Five merchandise hangs in the recording studio.

*Credit: Mason Adams/West Virginia Public Broadcasting*

“I was swamped with regional and local bands,” Ohmsen said. “I was working six, seven days a week. But, it felt like I had to do what I could do with it while the demand was there.”

Flat Five became one of eastern Appalachia’s premier recording studios. Ohmsen kept rolling with it — at least until a few years ago, when he started to think about retiring.

“Last year, I turned 68,” Ohmsen said. “And I’m thinking, ‘I don’t know if I want to be here at 75.’”

Ohmsen made plans to pass on the studio to a new owner — but not one who would do things exactly the way he had. Instead, he zeroed in on one of his employees, a part-time engineer named Byron Mack. Mack grew up in the Roanoke Valley. And like Ohmsen, Mack came from a musical family.

“I am the nephew of the jazz singer Jane Powell,” Mack said. “My grandfather is the one who got her into music. His name was Eddie Powell. I’m a third-generation musician from my family.”

Flat Five owner Byron Mack shows a trophy for an award won by one of his songs.

*Courtesy Photo*

But while Ohmsen got into bluegrass, Mack was all about rap and hip hop. His aunt Jane encouraged him to pursue it.

“So as a 17 year old, I was writing rhymes, and she found my rhyme book,” Mack said. “It had a bunch of profanity-laced stuff in it, just a young kid writing crazy stuff. But she was like, ‘Hey, you clean this up, I’ll let you come out and rap with my band.’ And that’s where everything started.”

Jane Powell did more than give her nephew a chance to perform. After he complained he was having trouble finding beats, she gave him a beat machine for his 18th birthday.

Mack was still living at home with his mom, but he quickly started producing music. Like Ohmsen, he started with a makeshift studio in his house.

“To tell you how small things were, I slept on a mattress, and I would literally take that mattress out of the walk-in closet so the artist could have room to go in and record their song,” Mack said. “And then when they’d get done, I’d slide the mattress back in the closet.”

Mack’s hustle and initiative eventually put him on Ohmsen’s radar. In 2005, Mack went to work at Flat Five. Ohmsen says it was a good fit from the start — not just on the technical end but with handling clients and soothing musicians when they started to get frustrated.

Mack says Ohmsen started talking to him about retirement in 2018. It took another four years to close the deal, but finally in 2022, Mack became Flat Five’s new owner. He has expanded it to incorporate more of his work in hip hop and R&B.

“I’ve been able to bring in some more hip-hop elements that didn’t exist before,” Mack said. “I still do graphic design [and] website design. We really try to make it a one-stop shop for an artist so they don’t have to go anywhere else.”

Mack has continued to work with Flat Five’s old clients, but he’s brought in new artists, too — especially hip-hop artists. Ohmsen said he thinks that’s the studio’s future.

But even with Flat Five’s long history, there are challenges. Flat Five is essentially a new business, with all the difficulties that come with it.

But then again, Byron Mack has been working as a music producer for decades at this point. Just like Tom Ohmsen, he started at home before moving up to Flat Five. He wants to keep building and turn the studio into a destination for musicians across the east coast.

“My long-term goal for Flat Five is to be that go-to spot when you have to travel through southwest Virginia,” Mack said.

And in doing so, Byron Mack is keeping Tom Ohmsen’s vision, and the craft of music production, alive and thriving.

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