North Ct,re\ina ·~tate 1..ibr~ O -;-,lr..iir-.·1"'1° S:\,,..,'-15i ' • t~ • C. North Carolina Folklore Jolllllal
Vol. 38, No. 2 Summer-Fall 1991 North Carolina Folklore Journal
THOMAS McGOWAN, editor LYNN MOSS SANDERS, assistant editor NORMA FARTHING MURPHY, illustrator KATHLEEN ASH & KATI-:IY MOORE, editorial assistants
The N Assorted past issues of the North Carolina FolkloreJournal are available at $2 each. Wiseman 's Vw: The Autobiography ofSkyland Scotty Wiseman and the special issue on A Singing Stream are available at $4 per copy. North Carolina residents should add 6 per cent sales tax on back issue orders. TI1e North Carolina Folklore Journal publishes studies of North Carolina folklore and folklife, analyses of the use of folklore in literature, and articles whose rigorous methodology or innovative approach is pertinent to local folklife study. Manuscripts should conform to The MLA Style Manual. Quo!ations from oral narratives should be transcriptions of spoken texts and should be identified by teller, place, and date. 1991 OmCERS OFTHE NORTH CAROLtNA FOLKLORESOCIElY President: Karen Baldwin. East Carolina University. Greenville. 1st Vice P.-e-sldent: Mary Anne McDonald, Du.-ham Technical Institute, Durharn. 2nd Vke l'Tesident: Elon Kulii, North Carolina A&; T University, Greensboro. 3rd Vi« President: ShelbyStcpl1emso11, Pcmbroic State University, Pembroke. Secretai-y-T.-ca. CONTENTS The Storyteller as Shaman: Ray Hicks Telling His Jack Tales, Cheryl Oeford ...... 75 Review·s ...... 18i Patterson & Zug, A1ts in Earnest: North Carolina Folhlife Reviewed by Lynn Moss Sanders ...... 18i Davis, Listening for the Crack of Dawn: A Master Storyteller Recalls the Appal,a,chia of His Youth Reviewed by Cheryl Oxford ...... 189 Cover Photograph: Ray Hicks performs at the Beech Moun• tain Story-Telling Festival, 1989. Photo by Jon Wilmesherr. Copyright© North Carolina Folklore Society 1992 The Storyteller as Shaman: Ray Hicks Telling His Jack Tales By Cheryl Oxford Yeah, y1n, see,Jack can he anybody, whm yott get 011 it tight. l'm}ndt I've been Jack. I'm.fuck rig/it now. I kn{)1JI ever t1'ick and tum oflite mountains, yott know. -Ray lficks This scudy presents the performance paradigm of Ray I licks, a traditional storyteller from near Banner Elk, North Carolina. Unlike hi~ second-cousin Stanley Hick~, who told accounts of the fun-lo-.ingJack as objectively observed fiction, Ray Hicks's narrative perspective is omni scient, submerged into the trickster's consciousness. Ray Hicks is no table, too, for his intimate involvement with the adventures of the tales' hero. During a Ray Hicks Jack Tale, listeners discover as much about the storytelle,· himself as they do about his narrative creations. Thus, Hicks's empathic storytelling style conveys aspects of his autobiography. What the sto1yteller has experienced, his alter ego also encounters; what Hicks has seen is what Jack sees as he travels through 1licks's tale. Cher)•! O:ef 75 This case study includes Hicks's privately owned composition en tided "Jack and Ray's Huming Tiip,~ an especially interesting example of the teller's interjection of himself into his tales. In addition, Hicks's embodiment of three traditional Jack Tales inherited from his people "Hardy Hardhe:td," 111e Heifer Hide," and ~Jack and the Varmints~-will be examined. ln all three of these mountain odysseys featuring the wily woodsman.Jack bears certain resemblances to Ray Hicks, a feature which the performer emphasizes in his telling. Hicks's personal interpolations enrich the textural duality of these tales in which Jack's narratives arc juxtaposed with Ray's metam1rratives. Finally, this study also explores other aspects of the folk heritage, narrative repertory, and performance style of chis traditional storyteller who, like a shaman, believes deeply in tJ1c strength of his stories "to give the heart ease.~ In the liner not<.-s to his recording Ray JlicltS Telling Four Traditional "jack" Tai.es, Sandy Paton comments on the special folk heritage of Ray Hicks, who was born in 1922: At one lime or anot.lter, during my many t.rip6 to lieech Mountain, people had told me: "Why, yes, I used to hear thc:111 old s1.o1ies hdug t.<>ld when I wa.,yo1111g." A li:w hadevenourlinedaplotortwofor me. But it takes a special son of genius lo tell a ta.le the way Ray does delighting in it, invemingjusl a little each lim.: 1.0 keep it fresh and spontaneous. Ben Botkin has used the teim "folksayer" for lhosewho p<>6s<:ss I.his genius. Many ,11011111,,in p,x,plc sing folksongs; a few aTC real ballad singers, masters of an anciem an. But the lrue "fotksayer• is r::m,, indeed. Ray Hicks, No.-th Carolina mountain farmer and pal't· rime 1ncch;u1ic., is. without <111cstion. one or tbcsc. (2) Master folk artist Ray Hicks is a preeminent traditional North Carolina "folksayer." Since 1981, I have visited and recorded Hicks in his remote Reech Mountain home on numerous occasions, but initial contact with this teller was more difficult to arrange than had been the case with either Marshall Ward or Stanley Hicks, both of whom I spoke with by phone. In response to my mail inquiry into his.Jack Tales repertory, Ray Hicks dictated n letter to his wife Rosa explaining that he would expect monetary compensation in rccum for granting my request for an inter• view. Some regional storytellers justifiably feel that the Jade TaJt,5 have proven )uc.rative for collectors, while the folk creators themselves have gained little or nothing in return. As an example, Ray Hicks is a man blessed v,,ith many gifts, among tJ1cm tJ1c ability to evoke vivid spectacles in the mind's eye ofhis listeners, yet he lives in conditions which most people in this cocytry have difficulty imagining. His poverty throws into sharp reliefan ethical consideration that is ever present for folklorists: what is owed to folk artists in re tum for their performances of handed-down talcs? In "Perlorming as a Moral Act," Dwight Conquergood discusses this issue of the ethnographer's stanc.c in relation to tJ1e Other whose expressivity becomes the subject of scrutiny: 76 Moral and ethical quc:stions get stirred to the surface because ethnographers of performance <-:xp!ode the notion of aesthetic distance. In their fieldwork efforts to grasp the native's point ofview, to understand the human complexities displayed in even the most humble folk pc:rfonnana:, <:thnogiaphc:rs try 10 suin.'ltder thc:m selves to the centripetal pulls of culture, to get close to the face of humanity where life is not always pretty. (2) Obviously the folklotist mu.st decide such ethical matters as fair payment for a life portrait on an individual basis. My own decision under the circumstances was to make Hick.s an occasional remuneration for the pleasure of his company. However, my initial acquaintance with this shamanistic storyteller who would, in time, so generously share his wealth of wisdom was arranged through a personal channel, with pecuniary concerns put aside. OnJuly 11, 1981, during my only meeting with the late Mai-shall Wa,·d. Hicks's friend and neighbor, the retired school teacher suggested that I visit Hicks in person and explain that Ma,·shall Ward had sent me. I had been given a mountaineet·'s equivalent ofa letterofintroduction from the benevolent Ward, whose custodial care ofthe Beech MountainJack Tales extends even to this case study of Ray Hicks. Ward's oral calling card proved a successful introduction for me. Upon heating that Marshall Ward had directed me to his rural hillside home, the more reclusive Hicks ser.tled his six-foot, seven-inch frame into a worn ladder-back chair on bis front porch, which is adorned with protective hex signs. Rolling a Prince Albert cigarette, Hicks launched into a monologue merging tales of himself with stoiies of spirits, herbal healings, and a boy namedJack. The transcriptions that follow represent a compilation of Ray Hicks by Ray Hicks, a piecing together of both vintage Hicks narrative and his metafolklore, his own thinking about his storytelling, in the distinctive voice of this reflective storyteller. Unlike Marshall Ward, a folk curator who demonstrated a clear sense of historical chronology in his oral testimony, Ray Hicks's speaking style is more disjunctive and paratactic. At times, his conversations seem almost like so·eams of consciousness. Appreciation of the unity and internal cohesion of his long, loosely knit narratives requires an ear attuned to the storyteller's expansive, unhurried prose rhythms and cadences. The portrait presented here has been gleaned from conversations carried on with the storyteller over a seven• year period, 1981-1987. Ray Hicks is one of ten children- four boys ai1d six girl&-bom to first cousins Rena ai1d Nathan Hicks of Beech Mountain. The doctor who delivered the infant Ray charged his father twelve dollars. While offering thfa biographical detail from his past, Hicks adds the moral which inevitably maib his storytelling. They'll say, "Oh, I'd atike.d to lived back in th,~m times.• Yeah, boy, you would. 77 Twdvt: doIla.i's wa.~ h;,rder 1.0 get then than a thousand is now. Ancl 1.hey St:t:, the young people l,as losl. tlldr ,n,,mory. · l11ey can't help it. See, when you grow up thel'e in the time, you can'1.lu:lp yo11n11c:111ory, but it's gone. Gos!,, if a man hatl twelve dollars, it was dangerous to show it to anybody. You migh1. ge1. killed off of ii. . Hicks's personal narratives, as well as hisJack Tales, reflect the harshness of a life of poverty and the essential needs of human existence which are of pressing importance to chis storyteller. Also important is a sense of history, a communal memory of a past which can serve as a reminder to the present. Hicks believes that his stories embody the collective uncon scious of a kindred people's yesteryears. The young Ray learned most of his Jack Tale repe1·tory from his father, Nathan Hicks, and from his patemal grandfather,John Benjamin Hicks. The third generation storyteller recalls his oarly education in Jack lore while sitting on his grandfather's lap: And I'd go crawl up on his leg am! look al. him and one of his eyes was ont. Cow hooked it and put ic out. And I'd say- I calh:d l,im "Pap." I'd say, "l'ap, could you tdl me a tali:?" And he'd say "Whoop! Yeah, I might." [Laughtel'] This endearing portrait of Grandfather Ben petforming at the request ofhis grnndson illustrates the traditional intra-family contel 78 and old alike since laughter is indiscriminate on the basis ofage, Ray Hicks believes that the enactment oftraditional lore is the domain of the elders. As a youngster, Hicks was set apart from his peen because of his imerest in the older folks' conversation. Listeniug to the ancients for t.iles imparting wisdom, Hicks was thus initiated into the nmT.itive knowledge of his mountain kin. Sc.~c:, what ,:auscd me a-r.dlin ,t~m. the other boys lllld girls 'uld laugh at me. S~id, "Ray I hinlcs more of the older people than h.: «loc:s 1.l1e yo11r1g people:.• And they'd go wilh the young people and I'd be in the log cabins and- Uh- kindly makes you think like that said Jesus, when he lold Joseph and Mary he had lo be auoul [I lis Father's busilwssj. When he started al twelve years old, you know. and was in there ask.in the lawyers and all them questions that they cou1tln ·• answt~f'. Wc:ll, ,.hat's a rt':st".mhlanc.c: to me. / was with my elder. older people, a-ask.in questions. I was wanl.in lo kar,,, Ami I km,wcd 110 young 1,cc,1J1c nu1·• lcan1 rm.~ nc,1hin and they can't now. ']here ain't no young people can karn nobody nothin. TI1ey don't k11mi, nothin. We got a lot thinks they know something a lot of times, you know. Hicks's self-comparison with Jesus is striking. Like Jesus, Hicks saw himselfas marked fornspecial calling-thatof sto1-yteller,a lh~nglink with ancient lore. This Southern mountain shaman recognized early the spiritual power and authority inherent in the spoken word. In keeping with his respectful regard for the antiquity of this lore, Hicks sees himself not as .in inventor, a crnftsman of these tales, but as a medium through ,~hom they may be revoiced. Whereas Stanley Hicks delighted in telling fictional tale.a, or "lies," R.,y Hicks claims co tell only what he believes to be the truth. Such statements of veracity often f r-ame his performance of theJack Tales. For instance, as prologue to 'Jack and Ray's Hunting Trip," Hicks affirms: WcU, tlwy'd s:ty Um Hicks felle.- teUs hig tales. They believe I make it, a lot of 'em. 79 Now ii 'sso, what I tell you. Now believe it. I don't tell lales. l don't tell nobody nothin tl1at I tlon'c knew. Or I tho,ighl it wa~ my right to the be~t of my knowledge. Similarly, prior to "Jack and the Old Fire Dragon," Hicks attests: And this is one, now, th:u I'm a-tc:llin the 11111.h. It's on it. I hardly ever tdl too much, just enough to even it up just a little. And maybe !hen where l don't remember it all of my oltl people. I couldn't get it all exactly tight probably, hut I'll say I'm frrelty clo. Such aesthetically self-conscious comments reflect Hicks's phenomenal memo1y of his forefathers• tellings. Where memory fails, however, Hicks must "even it up just a little,~ offering a personal interpretation of the muh as he believes it to exist. This active engagement of Hicks's own persona within his storytelling is a characteristic trait of his truthful, autobio0rraphical narratives. Much ofHicks's appeal as a performer comes from his personal ethos and cret.tibility. A storyteller who know~ his narrative hero incimate)y, Hicks even claims, at times, to be the trickster Jack himself. A prime example of the storyteller's personal involvement ¼ith the character of Jack and his shenanigans is Hicks's privately owned composition jack and Ray's Hunting Trip," which I collected on Sunday, August 15, 1982. In this tall tale, Hicks enters into the world of the narrative, becoming a character and acting alongside Lucky Jack. Hicks originally learned a version of this Munchausen-like tale from his grandfather. Ben Hicks. Later, the grandson borrowed elements from Chase's ptim version ofthis exaggerated exploit. Bm Hicks adds significant embellishment ofhis own: he adds the character of Ray to the dramatis personae. Bue I ma,lc: one now lhat was Ray's tale. I made one "ilh Ray a-going a-huntin with him. Yeah, I went a•hunti11 with him. Yeah. [Laughter} 80 Gosh, ir.'s ~ good 'un. It's my tale now, thii 1 un ii. Veah, one that/- which I had to use a lot ofthe other pa.rls of Ute t..1le [in Chase's book I lo make ir. bec.ause l c.ouldn'r. take it all our.. But hit's- hit's one that/ fixed with him. / went with ·him a-huntin. Gosh, it wa,s a trip. Yeah, dial. was ~ good huntin uip. Henry Classie in Passing the Time in Ball)'111en()11£ has noted: "'Ille teller can take a ta.le from a book, and if he invests it with culturally derived power, it will ascend to folklore" (147). ln "Jack and Ray's HuntingTrip," Hicks demonstmtes his creativity as a story composer by investing his material. both oral and print, with "culturally derived power.~ He em phatically claims this new rendition as his ta.le, "one that 1 fo;:.ed." The storyteller's persona makes his entrance with the opening sentence: "Well, now, this here tale I'm gonna tell first.,. the one that I went a huntin withjack.~ This ta.le of the incredibly successful hunt, a tale in which impossible things happen, is nonetheless situated in the here and now. Hicks's telling emerges out of his immediate environment. He sets his ta.le in the temporal world of "the log cabin timest a past which yet has real associations for him in the present. And I remember, like l sl\ic.1, Ute last log cabins th;,r. wa,s built in th~e rnount.ains, was a-standin yet when 1his house was built of the steam engine. Hit the mountains with two men th~,. s;,wed the;e hoard, [krmck., on Ute wood] in this house ofmy Dad's here. Ami this house i~ about seventy- three or four years old. S;,wed wi1h ~ steam engine. 81 11n: firs1. 'nns t.hat entered tl1c JnounUtin. And look whal good h1111oer they sawed. It wasn't- uuw it tiair1•t t:\'t:u heeu dn:ssccl. '11\e lime of lhe story can be measured against. the age of his father's house. The maivelous events recounted in the tale are roughly r.ont.em pornry with the sawing of the undressed lumber upon which the st.ory teller taps his knud let>s see now1 t liar. w,1s a hcautifill fall. Ami I saicl, "I've got my work done up puny well. ·rm gonna go down and seeJack and sec if me amJ him can get into something together.• Said, "I never have been with Jack before a-hunt in and he might be a-going a-huntin." The dimate within the tale is a reflect.ion of the "beautiful" fall day begin e1:yoyec.l by the teller even as he tells of his longing to seeJac.k and to "get. into something toge1.her." Jtis un 82 story's hero. This dialogical tendency can be clearly heard in Hicks's privately owned composition ''.Jack and Ray's Hunting Trip,~ a t.,11 tale lasting over thirty-five minutes. Jack and Ray's Hunting Trip Well, now this here t~le I'm gonna tell first, like I said 'fore: I we111. 1.0 cal, the one that J went a-huntin wi1hJack. The way I was taught from my pc:uplc in the times of a Jog: <:ahiu tirm:'1;. And I remembe,· the last ones. I remember the hi.st cabins that w,i.s built in !his mountain and was with d1e people in 'em. A-livi11 with 1.Iu: lillle girls arul I.Ice little hoys and 1heir parents and their neighl>ors a-comin in a-playi11 1hdr old1jme- we called 'em fiddlin, but the real nauu: w-as vio1i,~ and their frelless banjos and their dulcimores, a-lta\·in tltc rnouru.a.in rnusi«:. And I re111e111h<:r, like: I ,aicl, 1lce last log cabins 1hat '"'LS built in these rnouut.ains, was a-standin yet when 1.his house was built of d1e st<:am engiru:. Hit the mountains with two men llmt S"-wed these boards in this house or my Dad's here. And 1ltis house is abou1 seventy- dmx: or four yea"' old. Sawed wilh a Sh'~am ~ngin~. 11,e first 'uns that entered 1he mountain. And look wha1 good lumber they sawc,I. h wasu't- 83 now it hain't even been dressed. Arni so now, the way it was teached- Now in the rans of the year wr. have- They'd keep their hawgs. I call it hawgs bill otllt:l'S call it hogs. Teached. New worded, you know. But I call it hawgs right on. They call it hogs and smff like that. And coffee. Like their coffee. I call it cawfee an,I they call it coffee. Com~c or som<: way like tl1at. And tl1ey'd say, "Mister Hicks, why don't you call it coffee?" Little kids 'uld come out to me, you know, where I wu a-buildin houses. And so, themhawgs in the fall of the year hit would come a cold spell. And th<:y woul,I up and kill their hawgs and they had no fruit jars at tl1a1 lime. No w·.. y lo handle: it, only cu,-e it out witl1 salt, and they had no salt. Now people say tocl.ay, "Oh, we live we live hard." We've a-livin good. !'raise Cod! Wc:'ve a-livin good from the way Ray lived even tlien, I ain't but sixty yea.rs old, the twenty-ninth of this comin days of this August. l'llb<:sixty. 84 Sixty years old. Well, they'd s.iy that Hicks feller tell big iaJe.,. ·111ey think I 1111,1>_,. it," 101. of 'cm. Now it's.,,, wh;it I I.ell you. Now believe it. I don't tdl tale~. I don't tell nobody nothin that I don't knuw. Or I tluw.ght it was right to the best of my knowledge. I don't tell uothiu to build nobocly up orno way and hi1. off, or, as I c.all it, goopy. Goopysmff. And so they called it Indian summer. Hit would wann back up and blow flies would go to blowin their meal and there IVllS no way to keep it. F.xc.cpt if you was ll')in is dig a big hole d,~p in the ground and peel you a r,i\vhide bark rope, ,nakc it, and put around that meat in a bark bncket and swing it down in that hole. Or specially if, like you'd see if it was a old hand- 8ut they didn't dig any wells back at that time in these mountains. It wn un•possible. Well, now, th<:y had " hand well, dug wells, down in the lower c.ountries, lower valleys. And system [cistern?] water. l)id you ever drink any? SyMcrn w111.er. 85 Now tha1.'s good water h111. it come~ a-pa~t wilh lhe most that got "iggle•tails in it. Uown in, where I knowed it, Tennessee. l\ut I dnml:. out of the last 'un. Ain't been too many year ago it was yet, aml yon might have it ,-ei. A system well, they called it. And 1loa1.•~ a hig hole dug 'si,le of your house and runs all the winter snows and tl1e rain off in tloere. Arni 1hat 110k is so deep, that's the best water. It's juu good a.<; a ~pring 1.ill 1.ha1. wiggl•~tails gol to getlin in it. Then tl1ey got to diggin wells. And so, tlu:y callt:,I it Indian ~11mme1· when that would stril Andso- 1.his fall- let's see now, that was a beautiful fall. And I said, "I've gol. my wol'k ,low:: up puny wdl. "I'm.gonna go down and seeJack and see if me arnl him can gc1. imo something 1.ogether." Said. "l m:ver have: b1:t:n wi1.h Jade before a-h,1111.in and he might be a-going a•huntin." I went down. Air at hi~ Dad and all the family, Will and Tom, aml 1.lte log cahiu when: they wa, raised in it. Jack was out to the woodpile. Like tl1ey alwa)'S said he was- he was alwar• into ~omething. Riggin it up or studyin about something. 86 And he wl\S s,:1.1.in on the chop block the woodpile choppin hlodc And had hi, hog riOe a-greasin it up with mutton lallow. 111.il's all we had was mutton tallow lo grea.•r. a:,y1.hi11g up with. And il was a good mcclkine. And,o. I said, "Jack-" I ,ays, "Jack are you a- thinkin ab<,111. goi11g a-hnntinr I le said, "Yeah, I've got it kindly in my mind." But said, "To being yoi, c.ome, I'll just put it off." I said, "No, Jack." I said, "Oh, my God." I said. "Thai.'• what I wanted. Ki11dly why I'm- "OM1-I,," he said, "if ii i,, we'll go." I ,aid, "Yeah. I'm kindly here lo go a-huntin with you, Jack. l heared talk ~l.>011t yr.. And I want to be with you one time in my life." Wdl, hr. ,aid, "&dad. we'll do her." And he got that rigged up, everthing tuned up in his 11!-IJll"od, and all of it cleaned up. We took oil~ Aud hit a-being Indian summer Oh, my God. Yon didn't have to go far. I was a-bnrnin up, thirs1.y, for a drink of water. Wdl, he said, "Now, Ray, you 11r.cdn'1. In think of no water i11 this country." He ,aid, "This-· hit hain't none." He said, "h's to mike it till we danged nigh get back home." Said, "1l1i, i, a dry place." Said, "They ain't no water." 87 I said, 'tCo,I.,, I said, "I've got something staned. maybe, th~t I'll regret ofmy life. "lfit ain'1. no '"~,.•.er." I said, "I have to have-" I did. I h~vt: lo have a lot of wateT. yet. if I am get it. And so. we come 1.0 a liuk hnlkr dircr1ly. And, boys, I said if I can't find some water. I 'gin to look. Jack he was a-interested a-w~1.d1i11 ont for chc: wihl 111rkcy and bear and all that and deer to 1.ry 1.0 kill him some nfhil, you know. to h~ve die meat. But, now with Ray, J was interested in wateT right at that lime [laughter]. Huh. W~ter is your main livin, you know. Yt:l. Altus be, 1'vc k~rncd. People thinks all 1hi• 1a1.cr• aml lu:a,,. aud stn!T. fAll(lit:m:c laughter! That big bulk that they throw in there and hit'sjusta\Joutall water. Milk is niuccy.,;i,c p<:rc:cnl wa1.cr andjust got little four percent value. And I quit usin milk. Ain't nothin added. Drink you- Co nut thc:r<: to a good spring is your water, is your life. Water. And you don't take much fornl l.o fill you up. Just enough to keep your intestines from collap•in 1.ngclltt:1·. 88 And so, we come l-0 th.is little holler, a valley, a liult: ,-all<:y about like in there. And it looked like th:.t it could 111;,yhe., where you'd walk over it like I had a lot of times, walk ov<:I' it and lc:.vc it. Where ifyou',I dig Cut a stick and fix it ;,nd dig " .:ouple of feet deep down in th.al.- I forget the 11an1c of the: soil that they call it anymore I always just c:allccl it soil. Had washed .in in the moons. Ju the 1110011s th;:..t this pl::t.nct's bc'.'<::n here. No man knows how many moons it'& been l:terc. Tiu:y u11 gu,:ss al it. an,! all so ;,nd so, :.11d wiitc:, but they don't know how many moons it's been here and u& on it and <:V<:rtl,ing. And so I rud, th<: l'",,v"' off. J;,ck ha,! wc:nl. on up 011 the: ridge. Had left me, didn't know I'd stopped. With his guu. I ha,I not.hin, only my hands and my body, myfe<:t and my mind. Them's all I had with me. I dug in it and something hit my fingers that was sticky. And I rubhc He: sai,l, "Ray, wl1;,I. is ii} What in the worlrl's wrnng?" He: sai,l, "It's a-holdi11 my 1111111 ,!own." Well, I said, "Come back. This might be a 111ml, too. It ,l,m't just have lo be one thing a-huncin. 'lbal might just be another hunt wt:'U start." 89 r k «:Olli<: hack and he got down like Jack was, you know. Wasn't afeard of nothin a-poisonin him. He'd lick anything. I was «:<:<:n:d 01· I'd a-ra.,tc:d of it. But I was scecred it might be something that'd poison 111e, you know. But.Jad< he wasu't afeared of nothin. I le: pul his hm11ls in it. He: said, "Y<:ah, bedad, I see what you've ..." He p111 it 10 his lips (tasting motions]. <•Br.clacl. Ray. that•s .mun,mod Mney."' c:ah- sourwood honey in under all them leaves in th<:r<:. "Reckon, Jack? You sure?" He s<,id, "Ye'1h, I'd bet n,y lit.:: arnl ncTlhi11g l'w got and my gun. It's sonrwood honey." Ancl we w<:nl 011 up the, lwa,I of tl>al. hollc:r and there stood a big red cedar. Gosh, what a tree. ll was m·o1111d six or sevt:n feet in diameter of the body pan of it. Ami il was jnst a hull. Ou,: hiw: ofhccs) or swann. we <:aJkd ii.. got in it, and the branches on it was big as a ordinary tree. Ancl they was holler. And one had swarm ancl wem in another place in it ancl one another 'un. I lil had .:mu<: a hurricane: a 11igh1 01· two b<:fore tl1a1. ancl had husl!:d that and was a-nmnin a hranch ofhoney down through there nexr.10 the tree. (;ocl. it. was rnnuiu honey that dc:ep where it had busted it in the combs. I bet it was ten thousand pounds of honey in that uee busted up. 90 Sourwood honey. Old- hack yea.rs tliat clwy'd kept it in there. You know, in a old comb. A11 II was a-rnnuiu front th<.~ t.op,'i of tht~ ln:c. 1l1at lops where it had busted them limbs, branches, big branches holler, anrl all that honey. II. was a-nmnin down. a-hiuin the: gn m,id. down in with clw otl,n,j1t,1. like waler. Su11 had got. i1. !tot. i11 tltat India11 summer and it was rum,i11 kinda like-like wal.<:I', Runnin purty fast. Made it thin. Sourwornl honey',;; purty 1.hin, anyhow. I"\;,~ <.~al it.. Good hont:y. Bes! honey ever was. Ar,(l,r;o, I got tickled and fell and stagg<:n:d, a-lm,ghi,i, ag'i,i a bu,h, .i little l>ush up over my head. J'u, six-seven Which I was j11s1. ahoul.·· I was six-three then, when I went with Jack a-huncin. I was six feet and three inches tall t.ltcn. Ami so I ••aggen:cl ag'i11 1.ltis hush and it felljlitte.rs off ofit. And ( ,ai,I. "Gc•l,Jack, lu:n:'sjli11,n 1.0 ea! the honey with.'' fell lliuers. II was a fliuer bush a-growin there, growin lliuc:r,;. What you call- They fried back there, you know. Fli llt:1"- Or ash cakes, they used 1.0- l've eat ash cakes. Now they clone: 1l,at count. of no sodium salt. Ashes put sod}· in it and kindly salts it a liul<~. 91 Pour that rucal~ make it up down in them hot ashes and just rake the hoc ashes over it. .' Tl,at's rhe best piece of l>read you've ev<:r eat in your life . And he saic..l, "Cod- bedad, it is." And he got him two ,ind put some of 1ha1 honey and slapped 'em together. And I had miue arnl \\'as a-(:atin. All tha1. we needed was some: water <>nd that honey was a•makin it worse. Rut. we: cal. aU t.lac: horn:y we: c:ould s1and and went on. Arni we got on ,ind we come near the river and mere w.is .>round lif1y ducks. fifty ducks a-s\\immin on thal river. And he s;ud, "Now, Ray, I'd like to have 'em all." Rut. he ,aicl, I know a trick I.O get 'c:111 dangc:«l nigh, I think." \·Ve got our shoe strings out, both cnU' pairs, his'n aml miue, ancl ltc 1ied 'em together. Auel we 'gin 1.0 fc:d in our poc:kcc.s ancl we: had sontc: ot.hcr olcl stl1.ugs in our pockets. Ancl got. it. all tic:«l rogc:tlic:r, a11cl he t.ic:cl his breechy legs with two short pieces wrapped so he ,:onld swin1 under· 1.hcrc. Ancl he wc:ut.- he went down the river, s,.. ·in1111cd up a piece under the water, so he wouldn't scare 'em. TIJC:y wa, wilcl. I le swimmed under there and lied all their feels 1ogether while they w<,s Ancl he hacl- he had all or 'em. He got all or 'em. And he was a-standin there and I sc:c: 1 sai,I, '"Jack, wha1.'s t.hal. in your hd1.d1<:s?" 92 Alld he Ulll.iNI hi, britches and he had thirty-five pound of big trout fish had swimmed in here (the waist opening ofhis ovcr,.llsJ while he wa.s a-tyin the ducks up. (Laughter] Yeah. You see, that made a seine. A good 'ur,. All both legs and i11 hen: the •cat of 'cm. Gah, his britches was big enough to held a hundred pound ir ii had got i11 1.lu~rc. ILaughlcrJ So we wcut ou and wc.- c:o,nc f.u a laid-up fcuc.e. And there set a wild turkey on one bend of it and a 1>ild- and a grnuse, or a plica.sanr. We called 'c111 a pheasant but we was mixed up here in these m And a pheasant has got a ring around its neck. And they won't last in 1his mounmin. The fo1u:s catch~ •c111 all if you tum 'em loose. 11,ere was a wild ttu kcy and a grouse and a squirrel, a hig g(ey si1uirrel, was scui11 01> three bends of that fence. And so he said, "'Now1 I've got to have all of them.' And he said, "I've got to fix to get 'em at one shot." I wa.s arnaz,:d !,ow i11 the dkk,:ns lie was gorma do Iha!. I was standin 1here, wasn't a•payin much a1ten1ion, looked around a.ndjack was gone. I h~ed a racket 'bout twenty or thirty feet out from me. Walkc He was between- he load r.wo sapli11gi. he had turned up. Two chestnut saplings !,ad got- was deadened and rotted the grub and had turned up. 93 Arni wher·e they was grobhed together 'bout that fer apan, he had his gun barrel in it, bendin three crooks in it. Was a•bendin one nook to get that turkey first. And 1.0 g,~1. hit. to shoot the fence. Arni I.hen bc:rnlin the S<:rrnul cmok l.o gel. lhe gmuse, and the third 'un was to the squicrel. And he lu:nt lier and walked hack out lliere arnl IH: sightc:,I aml you could eye that hullc:1. W<:111. ting, zing, ziug~ 1.h1g·, zing, zing. Clipped all three of 'em. Arni he said, "Becfad, I got 'em." I saicl, uveah/' I said, "I wouldn't a-thought that." And so, standin there, and he had a barrd- 1t blowed the gun nil lo pie.us, ne<1rly. Blowed it apart. Blowed it apart. na,rd went up arnl fdl l,,..:k down wdl hr.low in tl,c: wood~. And the hammer bloweci oul of it. 111<: fitiu h~rmm:,· blowed out of the: hawg rifle. And went down there and got his barrel and hit had killed a rabbit. 111e ban·el had fell in there where a rabbit was sitlin its rn:sl. and killed hi1. And was a•tall:.in there an And we was standio there auc.l hc;l!'ed ,0111.:thiug p,~k, pe<:k, pe.:k, peck, peck, peck, peck. And we walked down in I.hen: arnl Ille hrun1m:r· was down in tllc:rc: a- peckin a wild hog in the head, killin hit. (Laughter] And so, we went on, and, yeah, yeah, we weut on. 94 AudJ:tck- we got in a- we heared some- He listened with hi, ear, and he ,aid, "Wait, Ray, 1 hear some wild turkeys a•hollerin." Aud I h1:arcd and I said, "Yeah. thr.y'vr. aboul. a hurodrr.d yards off.• Hi: said, "Well, you st.and hi:re. Now be right quiet." Or said, "You (:an walk on out a Jiuk yet." And said, "They've easy scared.• And said, "I'll slip 011 'cm." Jack could slip, through thi: wood, and th1:m twi~, till you couldn 't hear him. You Wk : And ,o, I waiti:d and I heared his no, he motioned foi- me co come on. He said, "Ray, I see 'em yande,·.• And hi: said, "Twdvi: of 'cm." And he said, "Now I've shot all my bullets up.• Said, "I've shot all my bullets up." And said, "If J had a bullet, I believe I could split that limb that they've on, and their toes 'uld ran down between it and hit 'uld clamp back and catch all twelve of 'cm." And so, he shot them- or kepi. f<:eliu of hissdf and fourod a bulli:t 1igln iro h<:re ( the brea. He had plenty of powder yet but his bullets had got gone, shot up. He'd lost-· He found one in here misplaced in his breast pocket. lie loaded up and cm drive and hit ~hut back and caught ever one of them turkeys. He climbed it and cut it off with his knife and they flew with him. So here he m:rot. 95 And I saicl, "Now t.liat'• I.he <:11 And I'd nm. A"'I he went clown holle.-s a11 And so, fiually t.liey W<:111. down a big holln aho-.: the river. TI1cr<: w,i., a lot. of poplar dmher in there, big poplars. And they call it tulip anymol"e. Tulip trees. And so, I run clown there above the 1iver and got down there and they turned back up with him. And I run bar.k up the holli:r. So they went down to the rive!' Arnl I wa~ a-nn111in A11 I said, "They'll fly over that river, probably, and 1,im giv•: out and he'll go in a big water hole and drown. Or· fallin 11,at loiglt, it'll kill him." I said, "Fallin that high, it'll kill him anyhow." And so I wi1s a-walkin up that holler. There it was a pretty patch of forest woods. An,! all al. once, KF.R-PLUNKI A hig hlack hear hit th<: gmmul right. in fmm of me and killed it. A black mother bear. I looke,I np arnl .Jar.k wa., up on I.op of a big snag wl,e,·e a tree hacl hmke off aho111. so high, like 1ha1 tree there f pointing 10 a u·ee snag in his own yard]. It was up high and left and was holler. And he said, "Ray,-" 96 Wdl, this is the story, now, lhatJack told after he gol down from the snag, srnlccl down. TI1is is Jack's tale, story, now, I'm a-t,,lkin now. Whal he's a•1.elli11. He said, "Ray." h<: says, "I st~•~d that snag and if I could-" And Jack was like a cat. I I,~ mulcl gli,lr. his body when he jumped. H~ was trained. lie c:onl,I gui,l,~ his ft:<~t, like a cat a;jumpin. You can lhrow a cal upside: down off.__ I have- aml 1hcy'll hit on thdr feet cvcrtimc. I !old 'r.m the bad, down co tlu~ g.-ound off a house and 1ltey'll hit. cm 1.lu: gronucl on thdr feet. Wdl, 1.h.. 1's 1.Ju~ way .Jack wa.,. He· could guide his feet first. And he said, "I seed that was my last chance, or I'd be go11c." And said, "I just turned loose and glided my feet and hit that holler of lh"-l srn,g.• And he says, "I got down in there, it was dark as dungeon." And he said, "I hil something fnny in there." And said, "I 'gin to feel, and it was t hrct.~ c:ub bear.. . ., Anti h,~ said, "I know,:d !'cl di<: in hc:re if- You nor nobody else 'uld never 1l1ink me a•being down in a snag to cul. it down lo get me out." Ancl said. "Attc:-T J fouud then, c:uhs."' said, "I knowed mo1her lu:ars come down back'ards to their cuhs." And Jack ahe:tys c:arrie.l, pic:k up 'bout ever little thing he found. And he'd picked up a one-prong eatin fork wh,~n~ both pmugs hrnke off mul just lefl mu:. tverthing could come in handy, you know. I do I.hat now. I live that way. I've always lived that way. It's everthing you get, if you'll lay it up and take care of it, 97 it'll come in handy for so111c1hing in your life. Nearly. And so, both- T\<'o prongs was broke off that eatin fork. And just had one on it, bu1 he'd put it in his pocket. That it migh1. be: helpful, and i1. was. It s~vcd his life. Saved Jack's life. He s,ud, wl'he mother bear was a-comin down." Said, "It da,1«~nt:d Ilic hole.• And said, "She come down and I seized on her and gouged th~t one-prong ,:atin fork." And said, "She pulled me out.• And he shoved her off and it killed her. Off the: outside: of tht: snag. Well, we went on. l..efl 1he bear layin there, and wemon. And hc:go1.- we got i111.o a bunch of ,k,~r Run in a bunch of deer. And he s~id, "Gmh, if I just only h~d any bullets." Said, "J migh1. gt:1c-• 'Gin to feel in our c:oal. pocket. We'd been a-helpin seed these here litlfe Or:tober peaches. And he had plenty of powder. He loaded up and shot these peach seeds at the deer. And he'd- l~mltc:d like he was gonna kill one, but 1hcy'd nm off. They w~s 1.00 big. It wa~ just a-going in the hide, you know. Pc:ac.h seeds was. And he shot all his powder up and I guess about a- we had ~ruund aboul. a halfJ~lon apic:c:e in out· poc:ltets, or a quart apiece, of peach seed. Aud ht: ,hot all 1.hem oul. al. the deer. And 'bout used all his powder up and didn'I. gel. nary deer. 98 And so, it w<:ut 011. We went on in arnl got his Dad's yoke of steers, " yok<: of slcc:n,, you k11ow, and the log sled, and went back around. We took two- we look two woodt:11, houu:madc wooden barrels to get two barrels of that sounvornl lioncy. And we tool< two big boxes to get 1.wo hoxcs of them llitters that eat so good with Lhe honey, :t11d tli<:11 get us a bu.sh to set out. nring us in a Ilitter bush apiece to have it at home a-growin flitters. And, doggone, we took a saw«ml «u nx to cut it out aml a rope co cie. them rubs wit!,. AIU! we got 1.h<: tlm:<: rnh~ arnl rbe mother bear. And we goL in. I hdpcd hi III ski11 •<:m out. But we went through a field, through au old ticld tl,at hit iu a-<:omiu around with all th«thoney aud the meat 011 it and them cub bears tied on there with a rope, alive. We had them alive, Lhem purty little cub bears. Black bears. And, doggone, we hit an ol,I field a-growin np ,u,d we heared som1:thing mak<: a /1w, and went down there and there was his twelve tu1·ke-ys yet. Had ldl i11 the bnsh, in the Ii.uh, arnl wa.~ hung in a hu~h of hnmheny hriars. And he picked. fixr.d him a lit.tlr. stid:. And he said, "Ray. hcdad. they ain't a-gouua lly witl, me 110 moTc." Arni he said, ''Attc,· we wcut this far, rm gonna Utke 'em in home alive." And he'd just addle 'em Strike 'em in Lhe head each one with that little laure.1 stid, he. cut 0111, and addle 'em senseless, and 1hen go about somany- a tcuth of a n,ilc or souu:d,iug and when they went to go, come back to, he.'dju.,1 addle. 'e.m hack again and ke.pt 'em senseless till we got plumb home. To his home. 99 And we cleaned all that meat up, arn! I wen!. had, ~t:vcrAl t,ip~ and c ..t whh hi:n. An.d Jack wa~ a fine man to be w:id1. Arni ~o, it wcut. tnt. h wcuf. The fin.- We got in the woods and the lire h.ad got cu•. and ruined it. ll had hmrn:il it :tll out ncm·ly. And we'd took us a little dinner. And we got up in that burnt woods. Jack wa.< out a-beau. And there was just ~o much ~ool all over Ute woods, it was just blackin rou all the time and made yo•ff tlU'oat dq· up foJ' watct'. An l sai,J, "Y,~ah, I.hat's a good idea. Hit's about to wear me out." And so, he St':t down on a stump just when, just a little •ttcr he said ii. And I walked or, up a liulc bit higli<.:r and there was a- a Jog th;.,.t lbc fkc >m(l bunted. But ·1 was so blat:k anyhow, lhe way my lcgt- wa,; a-fecli11 tired, tu:cdcd to r<:st> I diJn't (Jl\l{h t:an, wlicn, r set,""'" I don't Yt':t. l don't care where I set at. If I get tired, ljusl set ,mywhere that give:. me comfort. So I just set down on the log ~11yht>w. Arni got my pocker. knife out and hewed me a paddle lo cai with. I ,,kc I alius rlone., to make: me: a paddle out of wood, you know. A p~ 100 nid you ever eat with a paddle? That's )'our real c-atin. Your food tastes so much better. A spoon ain't no good in the forest. c~h, what good ealin. Makes it taste better. And then you don't get it so fast. Makes it, you know, the h1m1:,'tiCr you is, helter your food 1as1.cs, And a spoon, you get too fast and choke yourself on it. Gel. greedy, yon sec, and ruin your stomach, hurt your stomach, you see. Mayhe get sick auer you eat. And so, I was a-min my knife to hew me a bark, m~ke me a bark paddle. It's just as good :t.s a spoon, out of hark. But it's hard to m~ke 'cm when it ain't no sap in the timber. Fire had killed it ,II our, danged nigh. And then if it ain't sap time, you just have to hew it. And so, I fixed my paddle, and stur.k my knil,: over in the log. And about fiff.cc11 mirmtcs) I looked do-.,,m al. Jar.k a-catin, or ten aninutes, and ir. lonked like his stump was a-ritlin him off. I said, "Jack, is that stump :t.-ri,lin you off? That looks like you've a-movin so fast, " little hit at a lime.• And when I'd looked bar.It he'd be another foot gone, \\Tong way from where he was at. And I hollered again. And he :Qi~ .. No. 1 ain't movin." And I looked, and J wa.< sci.tin on " hig hlack .make. A11rl when I stohhed my knife in ii. it 111:t.dc ir. go c.1:t.wlin. Cah, it was that big around. Count of all the logs burned, you know, I hadn'r. nntic.cd ancl wa.< sci.tin on a black snake a-cal.in my dinner. It was around six or seven feet long. They'll get that long, some of'cm. I've M~ed a fow !hat was- was nearly six feet long m,:a.,utin 'cm. Old one.,. Black snakes. 101 Ancl so, wt: welll. 011 then alter we eat our dinner and got rested. And we was a-w.,lkin along there, up in the t:venin, an,! w-.t., got lmngry ag'i11, and :ill lh<:m wood- And burnt woods'll get you drit:d out and n:ally make you weak aml hungry. Just gel. in where aU the woods h,,s been bumt out by fire that got out. I've been in a many of a bunch of it. And so, looked a-walk.in along there: in that hnnil. wood. and right there stood a Octob,:i· peacl, 1.ret: uJtuk,l 1lmm1, and them brown. ripe, mdlc:r mn~t a lot of 'em was. A11 I It: saicl, "Wl1a1. i, i1}" I said, "Right out yander's a October pt:ach tree with pt:ad,e, tipe on it and ,,,,.ff.e.r. some of'em." And so, we sta1'1.t:cl out. l.o gt:t us son1c to cat. and the tree run off through the woods. Titt:m p<:acl, sc,:rls liacl come np iu 1.11<: clet:1· lii,les and they growed trees and was a-bearin peaches. Some of 'em had come up in 'em, and lhc deers was a-caITyin peach trees around in the woods. [Laughter] And so. the woods was burnt so, we knowed it w.1s no use to try to hunt no longer. And }~e conit: back in l,omt:. And so, fer as I know- I got sick and down under. I been under tl1e weather and was bedfa.,t for ahouc six months, on llu: flat of my hack. And I ain't seed jack, uut I know he's a•huntin. Last time I seed him, he was. Ami I knowJack's a-lmmin cause he likes it. (Duration: 35 minutes, 24 seconds) Jn addirion 1.0 illustrating Hicks's ancobiogl'aphical approach to the telling of traditional I01-e, "Jack and Ray's Hunting Trip" aJso depicts Hick's creativity as a story composer, a visionary who has dreamed a new drama ofJack. From Ben Hicks, his tutor in verbaJ lore, Ray Hicks learned one version ofthis exaggerated exploit. l lowever, he also borrowed other narmtive elements from Rid1ard Chase's p1int version of the tale. "I had 102 to use a lot of the other parts of the. tale. (in Chase's book) to make it, because I couldn't take it all out." Hicks explains. After reading Chase's ve.rnion, Hicks apparently adopted the involved first person rather than the distanced third person narrative poilll of view throughout his own rendition of this talc. 'lbcn, too, the teller colors this story with his inimitable performance style, featuring the unique added pe.rspe.ctive. provided by Ray Hicks himself. The entire version of "Jack's Hunt.ing Trips" as printed in 711ejack Tales represenl~ a composit.e story pieced together from North Carolina and Virginia te.llers. Chase attributes the first halfof his collation to Beech Mountain informants, including R.M. (Monroe) Ward, Miles A. Ward (Marshall Ward's father), and Roby Hicks (Stanley Hicks's father). Af. though listed as a source for others ofthe collectedJack Talcs, Ben Hicks, Ray Hicks's grandfather, is not credited with telling this talc for Chase. Yet the omission of his name from Chase's appendix of sto1y contributo1-s cannot be taken as C'l-idcnce that Grandfather Ben did not pe1form a version of "Jack's Hunting Trips." Ray Hicks claims that he (lid. At. any rnle, the pertinent point is that local renditions ofthe first halfof this tall hunting talc were in circulation among the st.orie.d familie.s living on and around Reech Mountain during the. bt.e l 930's and e.arly 1940's, in I.he period of Chase's fieldwork and Ray Hick's initiation into his verbal inheritance. The second half of Chase's composite t.,le was collected from Boyd Bolling of Wisc County, Virsinia. llerbcn Halpert, the folklorist who compiled the Appendix to The jack Tafos, clearly identifies the hand of collector Chase. in penning the composite. ve.rsion of "Jack's Hunt.ing Trips": "Pan II has been adapted and added lo Mr. [R. M.] Ward's Jack Tale' by the editor (Chase]. The honey creek, fritter-tree, and roast pig squealing to be eat, are from Boyd Bolling',; long tale, 'The Forks of Honey River at the Foot of Pancake Mountain•• (199). Bolling•s telling presumably added elements to this narrative which were not known in westem Norch Carolina prior lo the 1913 publication of TIiejack Tales. In addition, the episode Bolling contributed to Chase's composite narrative used the involved first person perspective: "Then there was the time I went huntin with jack" [empha. 103 "Jack and Ray's Hunting Trip" is a sing·ular blending of the literary with the oral mountain tradition. Mosr.ofHicks'sJack repertory-'<\ list of some dozen tides--is handed down by word-of-mouth from his grandfa ther; however, Hicks is also familiar with other Jack Tales collected by Richard Chase. He has, in fact, learned tor.ell these new na1Tatives, re introducing them back into rhe oral tradition. I learnt what I know- I mean of my lead ones- I learnt 'em from my gr.mdfather down here and the other people in 1he moun1aios. Sec:, 1hese olhers in the hook (Chase's The jack Tai.es] was got from other countries, you know, a lot of'em. And I tell 'em. See, 1 tell 'em. Oxfiml: nn1 you leamed them from the hook? J\ut I learn1. 'cm from I.he: hook, you see, all rhem others in there. Bui jn~I my regular ooc:~ wa.~ from ,uy gr> This is a significant statement. from a st.oryr.eller known and honored for his traditional mountain folk tales. Hicks has expanded his considerable intra-familyjack cy,cle by adding tales which he originally read in Chase's volume and then re-worked into his own repertory. It is ironic that publication of The jack Tales has also contributed to the preservation of this regional lore in the oral tradition. Tales such as the late Marshall Ward's "Jack in the Lions' Den,"whichwereomitr.ed from Chase's canon, have a greater likelihood ofdisappearing with the death of the t.eller who performed them throughout. his lifetime. Tales captured in the print medium are more likely to endure, independent of the sl.-ir performers who are their carriers. Through the permeating influence of print, lore can be re-introduced into the oral traditions of distant. geographic regions. Unlike Stanley Hicks, whose perspective upon folklore authorities and collectors was somewhat. bemused, Ray Hicks quietly accepts that such scholars naturally recognize his own cultural authenticity. While Stanley genrly scoffed, "Ye can't e<>l paper," Ray is pleased to have his words preserved in print and on tape, even acknowledging that. such records will mean more after he is gone. To a certain extent, Ray Hicks maybe likened to Marshall Ward, whose preservationist instincts contrib uted 10 Chase's collection of the Beech Mountain jack Tales. However, Ward's wish was 10 preserve the Jack Tale itself a.~ a cultural art.ifaci., 104 where.as Hicks is more interested in preserving the performance voice, I.he exhalation of breath which ventilates both the story and the story teller. Much of the authenticity and power of Hicks's storytelling derives from his unique vocal characteristics which echo the speech of bygone eras. For instance, during I.he decades of the late thirties, forties, and fifties, Anne and Frank Warner collected folksongs from Ray Hicks's parents, Rena and Nathan Hicks. Nathan was a traditional instrument maker. The Warne.rs also recorded Ray's telling of the Jack Tales. In Traditional American Folk S TI1e Wamers' trained ear, along with an eye for petformance nuances, enhances their description of this "natural storyteller." The late Crntis Williams also offered -a linguistic analysis of the storyteller's speech pat.terning. In a note accompanying Lee Hagge.rt.y's cmnsc1ipt.ions of Ray Hicks Telling Four Traditional 'Jack,. Tale.t for Folk Legacy Re.cords, Williams asserts the antiquity of Hicks's mountain speech. Ray llicks's speech, except for glot1,1l 6lops pernliar 1.0 cert.,in familie6 living on Beech Mount.,in, Nonh Carolina, i6 as pure Sou1.hc111 Appalad1ia11 spc:c:c:lt a.< 0111: is likdy to foul. F.ssc:mially unchanged 6ince lhe eighteemh cen1ury, 6peeeh in lhe Appalachian6 differs considerably from Southern speech .... The unselfconscious mountaineer, without inhibitions concerning grnmmar and diclion, telling a folk tale for the sake of 1he tale, and a, the same time using E11glisl11Jia1.woulcl have: souuded fa111iliar l.o Cc:orge Wa.~l1i11gtm1 aml Daniel Boone, is unique today. Kay I licks, who st.1nd6 at the end of a tradition, is just such a mountaineer. (13) Such an evaluation is echoed and amplified by the National Endowmenc for the Arts in a 1985 citation honoring Hicks as one of.si..xteen National Heritage Fellowship Award recipients. In recognizing this mountain farmer who "tells trndit.ional fairy tales and legends chat date back hundreds of years," the NEA booklet states: "Through his masterful storytelling, Ray Hicks has played a major role in preserving and perpetu ating one of humankind's most ancient and venerable art. forms" (5}. Hicks himselfoffers a testimonial depicting the magnetic power ofhis st.oryt.elling. His p1ide at che rapt attention he evokes from children held mesmeri:z.ed by his spell is obvious. 105 I used to could tell four and five- 01· dgh1 or· teu- to young'uns of a night. Back whcu I w~s in 111y 1.wc111.ies arnl my thirty ye,,rs old. Before I ever got my bo,ly broke. I'd go to the. pN>ple.'5 home., you know, and 1.dl iL II. Some, wuul The liule boys, yo\l know. They'd crawl up and lay the.-e on !heir hands. Arul_jusl. as .,till. You could l1ea1· a pin drop when 1.hey was a-listenin. I licks paints an evocative picture of the ol 106 And d1ey say they can feel th~t. pn~ssun~ from me and I can fr:d ii. from /Item when it's a•workin bo1h ways. And sai,I 1.hc:y ,x,uld Jeel- s~i,I we u11 feel in you that you're a humble line man. That you wouldu'I. ,In us no wrong. Wdl, if 1.ltq're that way that's when it hits the hearl. C<,ittg arnl nuuir, frou1 cad, unr. a-Jisten.in. And what it is il t.'lkes you aw~y till nothin hain't a-bothcrin you. Ml- Ml that you kunw is lis1.,~uiu l.o 1.h~1. and watch my lips. Ami 11,~1.'s 1h,~ way I watched the ones that was a-1dlin it 10 me when I was young. Cod I loved that. For Ray Hicks, these hypnotic tales repJ"esent what Kenneth Burke ha.~ described as vital ~equipment for livingM: "strategies for selecting enemies and allies, for socializing losses, for warding offevil C}'e, for purification, propitiation, and desanccification, consolation, and vengeance, admoni• tion and exhortation, implicit commands or instrnctions of one sort OJ" another" (947). TI1e trance which they can induce takes listeneJ"S away from their wonies, providing a temporary release from the cares of t11is world. The pages which follow capture an entire storytelling session featur ing Ray Hicks's perfommnce of MHardy Hnrdhend." "Tite Heifer Hide." and Mjack and the Vam1ints." Of particular interest is the context out of which these tales emerged. In Passing the Time in Ballymenone, Henry Glassie suggests an expansion of the concept of context to include "not only what chances to surround performance in t11e world, but what effectively surrounds performance in the mind and influences the cJ"e ation of tcxtsM (521). Context, he writes, is not in the eye of 1he beholder, but in 1he mind of the creator. Some or umtext. is dJ·:-twu in fro111 th~ iuuur.cli:-t1.e si1.t1at.ion. Jnu. rnor·<.~ is 1lr,tW11 from mc111my. 11. is prcsc111, htll. i11visil,k, i11au,1ihle. Contexts are mental a.c;sociations woven aroun«I texts during pr.rformanr.c 1.0 shap,~ aml <:0111pl,~1c 1he111, l.o give 1]11~111 111t:aniug. (3?,) The cont.-.xt of Hicks's Jack Tales, the "mental associations woven around" the texts. are examined in the Performance Event section which 107 follows. Additionally, the personal commentary with which Hicks embel lishes his tales will be discussedindetail. This running dialogue ofvoices past and present, narrative and metanarrative-presenb a textural feature that is unique to Ray Hicks and his performances of the Jack Tales. The Performance Event: A Sunday Afternoon with Jack and Ray Hicks [11 this section, I wish to zoom the folklorist's lens out, offering a wider panornma of Ray Hicks's worldview, out of which emerged three Jack Tales.--"Hardy Hardheacl," "The Heifer Hide," and "Jack and the Vannints." The manner in which the perfo,·mc,1· evoked these tales, as well as their unique incerface with his environment, are important themes in my discussion. This contextual study is both broader and deeper than a discussion of the immediate performance situation, although situational elements certainly play a part in any storytelling session. Rather, this study probes what Glassie calls "the mind of the creator." Drawing upon years of fieldwork, the performance portrait offers not only this self-reflective shaman's own narrative gloss, a running commentary harmonic to the tale proper which is a stylistic feature of Hicks's storytelling, but also this collector's recorded "memory" of Hicks's repeated ceilings and embel lishments, his "mental associations woven around texts during perfor mance to shape and complete them, to give them meaning• (Glassie 33). The perfonner's autobiographical asides from various recordings of these tales have been g-..thered together here to enrich this study of one Sunday afternoon's storytelling. "The mind of the creator" is gradually revealed through his introspective narrative creations, and patient listen• ing gives the folklorist critical insight into such a mind. Ray Hicks told three tales-"Hardy Hardhead," "The Heifer Hide," and 'Jack and the Varmint~"--on Sunday,July 12, 1981. In each of these tales, Hicks emphasizes a particular petformance element which demon strates the characteristic style ofthis storyteller-his visceral embodiment ofand cognitive involvement with the narrative. For instance, in "Hardy Hardhead," Hicks highlights the anger felt by Jack's two brothers, Tom and Will, as they "flew a litcle mad" at the sparrow that wa.~ trying to offer them help. Hicks observes: "And it goes good, because mad ruins anything, you know. ls the reason I like this 'uo.• In performance, Hicks recollects the physical sensations which come ,~;th a bad temper, and he draws upon these memories to vivify his tale. Likewise in "The Heifer Hide,• the storyteller conveys a sense of Jack's mental activity as he outsmarts Will and Tom, a drunken cuckold, and an old sinner desirous of buying his way into Heaven. Throughout this tale, Hicks describes the consciousness of a trickster who "had his mind on different things. A-movin on. His mind was a-movin." In contrast 108 to his slower-witted brotl1ers,Jack "was always, you know, into something that they didn't see into." This tale is also interesting for its portrayal of the hero as ventriloquist, a mercurial character who not only wears different masks as the situation demands but who also speaks in different voices. Jack's range of voices is yet anomer mark of his cunning as he outmaneuvers every adversary he encounters in mis adventure. Hicks's narrative enters the mind of its clever hero, enhancing the story's expetiential, participatory quality. Finally, in "Jack and the Varmints," the emotion of fear predomi nates. In this tale,Jack boasts of his heroic abilities, while at the same time he tries in vain to escape from each dangerous situation. Only good luck, as well as me energy of the terror itself, saves him time and again. "He come out of everything a-being scared so bad," Hicks explains. The storyteller recalls fearful situations in his own life as he tells ofJack's run ins with a v.ild boar, unicorn, and lion. Like his earlier description ofanger in "Ha1·dy Hardhead." Hicks's frank account of fear in "Jack and me Vannint.s" fosters the sensuous texture of his telling. The essence of such intra-personal performative transactions is embodiment, the matching of self wim the out-of-self experiences of me Other. In the case of Ray Hicks's storytelling, he molds himself into the characterJack, andJack becomes part of Hicks's own personality. Such an intimate sensing of the Other promotes incarnation, the merging of storyteller into story, of Ray intoJack. The Texts "Hardy Hardhead," the first tale that Ray Hicks told on the Sunday afternoon ofJuly 12, 1981, is an e."31Dple ofTale Type 513B "The Land and Water Ship." It includes MotifF60lff"E.xcraordina.ry companions who are each endowed with some remarkable power." In The Folktale, Stitht'Inompson describes this tale type: 1l1e younger ofthree brothers, unlike the two elder, has been kind to an old man who helps him provide a ship that goes bot.It on land and Wal.er. For the building of such a ship the king has promised to give his daughter in marriage. On his way to the court with the ship thr. hr.m r.nc.oumr.rs, one aft.er another, six r.x1.rnol'dinary men.... With his marvelous ship and these strange friends who have joined him, the he1» J'eaches thr. castle, shows his ship, and dr.mands tltr. p.-inr.r.ss in ma.niagr.. 111e king puLs him olfand will fulfill the bargain only when tbe youth has perfonn~d certain tasks-<:leeds which the hr.ro knows arr. qnil.e impossible. With the help ofhis companions, the hero succeeds in perfonningallthe tasks assigne 109 Ray Hicks offers a personal commentary regarding his interest in "Hardy Hardhead": ¥now hit ain't in the book [Chase's jack Tale.r) like I know it. l don't know whether they knowcd that part or not, when they went around, Dick Chase, and got•cm in the country. Hit ain't in the book likel know it. Hike ii account oflhat one part in it.~ The part to which Hicks refers concems a tactic employed by Will, Tom, and Jack's mother lo delay her son.~• successive ventures to break a wilch's enchanlment on a beautiful girl. Before allowing her son.~ to leave home, the molher instructs each boy in tum to bring enough water in a .~ifter to bake first two, then three, and finally five pones of bread for their dinners. The mother's plan is "to get. it hard 011 'cm" and thereby prevent the boys' journey to test themselves against the witch. Yet a little spatTOW waits at t.he spring with advice to facilitate fulfilling the mother's request. The bird tells each brother, ~spread it with moss, Daub it with mud, And it'll hold water.» Instead ofli.~tening to the bird. however, both Tom and Will "tlew a little mad." For Hicks, this tale is appealing because of its simple folk adage: "mad ruins anything." In Hicks's rendition of "Hardy Hardhead."Jacki.~ both patient and charitable, and his attitude is markedlydifferent from thatofhis two older brothers. Hicks focuses upon Jack's uniqueness as the youngest-best son tries to share his confidence in himselfwith his mother: "He'd say, 'Mania, I've got a feelin that I can do it.' Said, 'They•.~ something in me that's different."' A demonstration ofJack's difference occurs in the way tl1c brothers meet a hungry old man who begs a ponion oftheir ha.rd-earned bread. Both Tom and Will rebuke the needy stranger, butJack di.~plays hospirality and generosity. A miraculou.~ trnnsfo1Tnation occurs as Jack and the beggar begin their humble meal of bread and water. The hrearl turns into cake, lhe waler turns into wine, anrl rl1e feast is continuously replenished. TI1e scene recall~ Chri.u's mimcle of the loave.~ and fishes and evokes a religiou.~ aura arnund Jack's simple act of goodness. I Iowever, this act of virtue alone is not sufficient for Jack to receive the mysterious stranger's instruction and aid. Another test awaitsJack, a test of"faith." The old man explains: "'You go up there in the woods and if you can tum that spring to wine a•.stccrin it with this stick,' said, 'you've got faith."' Like Christ's first mirncle converting waler into wine at the wedding feast at Cana, I his scene clearly dramatize.~ that there i.~. in fact, "something in Uack] lhal's different." The storyteller emphasizes the moral that, like Jack, we need to be !'eceplive to useful advice, no matter what unlikely shape such good coun.~elors may take, whether bird or beggar. In the .~econd mm,ement of Hicks's story-tl1c encounter with the witch-Jack plays a relalively minor role. Hick.~'sjack needs his crew of newly recruited specialists to best the witch :it every challenge she proposes. I lere,Jack is a liminal character, in a state of transition, prior to becoming united with the heroine in marriage. The tale is a rite of pa.~sage for the boy hero who matures into manhood during the cour.~e of the twenty-two minute narrative. 110 Hicks's celling of "Hardy Hardheadn was followed by ~The Heifer Hide,fl an example ofTi,pe 1535 ~The Rich and the Poor Peasant." Stith Thompson notes the popularity ofthis tale type: "We need not inquire too curiously as to why men of nil celllulies and stations delight in the successful accomplishme111 of a swindle, but. the truth seems t.o be that if the terms of the transaction are clearly understood, a sto,y of clever cheating receives a universal response" (165). Cit.ing the existence of hundreds of variant occurrences, Thompson offers a description of the basic story line: "Anoche1 trick is the sale ofsome pseudo-magic object a cow-hide or a bird skin that is alleged to accomplish marvels. Sometimes this o~ject is exchanged for a chest in which an adulteress has hidden her paiamour. The rascal is usually given a large sum of money by the frightened lover in exchange for his freedom" (165-6). The tale continues, Thompson explains, when the poor peasant reports the large prire that he has received for his cow-hide. ·111e rid1 pc-.isaut is th<,rcfor<: iuduc<: In Hicks's variant,Jack is something of a shirker who does not help with his share ofthe work, but his lack of motivation is not laziness. Instead the hero is described as a dreamer rather than a common laborer: • And Jack he never could-seem like, with his way, he never could work long. And had his mind on different things. A-movin on. (Laughter.] His mind. His mind was a-movin on."Jack's schemes were unfathomable t.o his less imaginative brothers because "he was always, you know, into something that theydidn'tsee into." Howeve1 ,Jack's process ofcognition is revealed to listeners of Hicks's tale because t.he storyteller penet.rates the her·o's psyche. For example, Hicks describes Jack's timely inspiration as the remembrance "hit. his mind" that "the third tipped out." 'l11e folk teller assert.~, "Now we \Vas teached that the third time tipped out. That was do it or die." In phrases that echo Hicks's own personal philosophy, Jack resolves to stay ove1 at the third house he encounters on his journey to seek his fortune. The trickster's get-rich scheme in this tale focuses upon a dried heifer hide. By using the hide as a puppeteer woulcl manipulate a hand puppet and throwing his voice,Jack pretends that the heifer hide has a secret t.o 111 reveal. With hi; talem fr.ff ventdloquhm,Jack r~:veai,, one, afrer at1(1111er, secret$ l'hat the woman of the liouse ha.~ been keeping frmn lit'.r incredu lv;.i~ husband. Jack "cut r\ hole through the hide and r1J11 hi~ aon in here and put his hand and mad<; its lip~ work," Hkks explains, "and made the old feller beiievc that h,: could see that word just ,\·Comin out of its mouth.» Mightily impres~:ed, the man of the h~wse pays the handsome sum of one hundn~d &".linc:w for Jack', heifor hide. "And a hundred guineas hack then was 11bout, in my t ime, 01· my grandfathe,•~. way they called a hundretl.guineas mcaut wh:,.t fifteen doll3rs meant at that tim,<' Hicks elabo1-att•s. So, as he had p1t,dkted, the ~tickst'rother i11 1hc river, bur.again the trickster prevails. \-Vhilcwaitingfor Will and Tom to build up their nerve 'Ni.th whiskey,Jad: m ,~ets :mold .~inner who i,,;shcs t•) go to Heaver1 in phce of the twenty 112 you walll it in it right thel'e, now, the way I know it?" \Vhereas Chase's edited version ofthe tale indicates thatJack came to a mud puddle, Hicks'5 oral sou,-ces are "a little rough." His trnditional telling describes the way cow manure "flatters out on tJ1e ground" with yellow cow-flies "a-suckin it.• Such naturalistic details mark Hicks's story as authentic folk compo sition. Wearing the boast embossed on his bdt-"Big Manjack Killed Seven at a Whack"-Jack arrives at a new settlement. There he is cold that work is scarce and that "Peat is in the y;,rd all the time." When asked after the conclusion of his tale to define "peat," Hicks replied: And "peat," what it means is your food. Now they had it that peat, when it was in the yard, you h;,,I about rhnx~ mon: mcss,:s ld'r. Three more meals, little me-<1ls, to make out. i\nd when it come up through the porch and got in your settin room, you had two. And when it come on through the kitchen doo,·, you had one. Ami when ii. got. nrnlt:r tin: tablt:, you was a-eatin the crumbs. 111c ,:iumbs 1ha1. was Jd'r. And when it got on top of the table. you looked at the table and nod1in on it. l'eat. TI1ey'd say, "Old l'eat's about on thr. tab)~. Come on and eat, but Old l'eat's about on the table." Yeal,. That meant brca The reality of the hardship of life in the Southern mountains is never absent from Hicks'sJac-..k Tales, even in a fantasy which features a mythical unicom and an anachronistic lion. In "Jack and the Varmints," tJ1e hero must act a part he does not feel. Jack's braggadocio is only a ruse for the benefit of the king, for in reality the boy is a cow.ird. Hicks's omniscient m,rrative perspective provides a kind ofdouble vision in this tale; chc scoryceller's audience sees bothj.,ck's mask of pretence in publir. as well as the real face of the frightened boy in plivate. During eacl1 episode alone with thevarmints,Jack is fearful and 113 even attempts to avoid the encounter. As a moral to the story, Hick.~ comments on the usefulness ofJack's fear: "He come out of everthing .,. being scared, so bad. Now I've come out ofa few things in my life by being scared, and [ didn't know how [ done it ro come out. It helps. Ifyou don't gel scared, you won't make it. Yeah, l've been in the woods where I come out that way." Just as in "Hardy Hardhead, M where the emotion ofanger and the physiological sensations anger amuses are recalled, in his twenty seven minute account of':Jack and the Vannints," Hic.ks remembers the invigorating effect fear has on the body and c.onveys sense memory through performanc.e. TI1e storyteller's close emotional bond with Jack is a rubric which signals Hicks's variant telling ofthese tales. I shall discuss this feature of l licks·s narrative style in more detail later. The Context On Sunday,Juiy 12, 1981, Ray Hicks told th1·eejack Tales while seated on the front porch ofhis unpainted, two-story frame house, under whose tin roof he and his wife, Ros.i l larmon I licks, raised their five children three girls and two boys. The audience was composed of myself, my brother, and revivalist. storyteller Gwenda (..t,dbetter. Ledbetter was scheduled to perform later I.hat evening at nearby Lees-McCrne College and had come along to hear this legendary mountain man spin tales in his home setting. TI1e arrival ofanother listener, a neighbor named Charlie. significantly affected the storytelling context, as will be described later. In "From Text to Social Context," Kristin l..."lngellier proposes a conceptional clarific.ition .ind expansion ofthe term context. Rather than view context only as the place for perfonnance, an "already-constituted comainer" or frame from which the performance textemerges, Langellier notes tl1at it is also possible to see context as the conditions for perfor manc.e (65). Reviewing Fine and Speer's 1977 landmark essay "A New Look al Performance," Langellier cites an array of approaches to under• standing the complex phenomenon ofc.ontext. One approach which had application for this case study of Ray Hicks i~ a consideration of the "Performer as context" (63). From this perspective, the folklorist must take into consideration "a performer's expec!.ations, competence, per• sonaVsocial/ cultural histo1y, mid st.itus within theperformingsitu.,tion• (63). Ray Hicks's storytelling history, as I recorded it between 1981 and 1987, thus becomes the larger context in which these represent.'\tiveJack Tales are embedded. The lhTee stories with which Hicks regaled us that Sunday afternoon offer a facet of a national treasure and his trove of traditional lore.Just .is the gemstone is enhanced by the foil into which it is set, so too these mountain manhen reveal theiT true luster only when viewed in their total perfonnance context. This setting is molded and cast not just by the sto1ytdler's physical surroundings .ind psychic worltlview but also by the 114 tales themselves. Henry Gh1ssie in Passing the Time in Ballymenmu has observed that "stories provide con1ext., for each other" (34). He elabo rntes: Stories ,nc«n iu assodation. Providing: c:ont.cxts ti,r cac.h other. IJ1cy re.a<:h r.hrnugh the. mind lo connect, narrowing intosystems, reducing toward principles. At the same time they rcvcrhc1ate, poshing beyond system to touch and embrace life. (178) Ry recording an entire afternoon of stories, this case study anempts to embrace something of the reverberation and life of Ray Hicks's telling of these Jack Talcs. The Textures The central image illuminating the section which follows is Mikhail Rakhtin's use of the term dialogue. 'll1e folk discourses transcribed below may be thought ofas polyphonic, an organic orchestration of voices. To describe such an ornl/aurnl phenomenon, Bakhtin borrows from the language of music. As his ideas are applied here, the performance record represents a musical score, with the tale proper being the melody line, while Hicks's authorial asides are the harmony line, the overtones which supply textural counterpoint. Such textural layering may soun ll5 The Tale Transcriptions and Performance Reports The following transcriptions of "Hanly Hardhead,n "The Heifer Hide,n and "Jack and the Varmints" were prepared from an audio recording of Ray Hick.s's performance of July 12, 1981. Hicks first outlines, then colors, shadows, and highlights his tale topics in lengthy narrative stanzas. Unlike Marshall Ward and Stanley Hicks, whose speak ing styles fall into couplet or triplet patterns. Ray Hicks utilizes a verse paragraph rhythm. In addition, he weaves a running oral commentary throughout his telling of these tales. He offers an autobiographical, metanarrative gloss featuring Ray which is voiced-ove1· the traditional story line featuring Jack. The transcriptions which follow attempt to convey this stereophonic effect by notating the basic plot in standard type, while the storyteller's personal comments are italicized to suggest the dialogic nature of his narrative style. As prelude to this premier performance, Hicks asked which tale I was most interested in hearing. "Now I'd rather tape the one that yQl!.'1rather have," he insisted. Presumably, any tale from the entire Jack canon was al the storyteller's command, ready to be conjured up at will. When asked about his familiarity with this extensive repertory, Hicks replied, "Well, l know 'em all. I've told 'em about all, that's in the book" [Richard Chase's The jack Tat.es]. Although Hicks is a traditional telle1· who inherited these Jack Tales by word-of-mouth from his grandfather Den Hicks, who also told tales forChase'scollection, the power ofthe printed word is such that "Ille book• has become a touchstone for regional tellers, even those with the folkloric authenticity ofRay Hicks. Rathet · than accept Chase's version of these tales as gospel, however, Hicks will often argue with the book, contradicting its authority or emphasizing that his own rendition is, in fact, "the old way" of telling a particular tale. For instance, Hicks's telling of "Hardy Hardhead" emerges out of a brief listing ofhis repe11:ory oftitles, as if he is mulling over these stories before choosing one for perfo1·mance. When he comes to "I lardy Hardhead," Hicks dedares, "Now hit ain't in the book like I know it. "The performance begins as a report on the plot and then, once the listeners' interest is whetted, the storyteller asks tantalizingly, "Would you like to hear that 'un told? That's a good 'un." He then breaks through into his own version of this tale, which warns against the pitfalls of a bad temper. The physiological sensations ofanger and impatience can ruin a person's health and prospects, as the folk healer illustrates with the following story of "Hardy Hardhead." Hardy Hard.head And there's "Hardy Hal'dhead." Now it ain't in ihe book like I know it 116 l Mn 't knmu whetlur they /tru,wtd that pmt or Mt, whm they wem around- f)i,-Jt Chase- and got 'em in tlu count,:,. Hit- hit nin 't in tJu book like I ktl{IUJ it Hit's in it- / like it acoount oftluu on.t patt in it. See, it was Will and Tom !hree brothers- and all the other boys in tlle community oflog c.ahins. The witch had a 'chantmem on a beautiful girl. and all the way you could get that girl out of that was break r.he witd1. Ev,~r c.hallenge that ~he give you, you break it. Outdo her. Or do as good as she did. And ever boy went and got kiUed on a hackard. That's a sharp- that's a sharp-- uh, with steel teeth in it that they used to fix lint with, you see. And she'd put it on a stump and make a bet with 'em and she'd roll off on her stump, hit her hip~ 011 it and bounc.e off and not a sc.ra1ch on her. And all the boys went and tried to break ii and ever one got killed in the settlement but Will and Tom and jack. And Will and Tom went and got killed. Just Jack left in their family. The haby boy. And he kept beggin, said, "Mama, let me go. I believe I c.a,1 do it." W01,ld y01, like to hear that, ·u11 to!;/.T That'$ a good 'un. "Hardy Ha,-dliead. • And I'll ju.rt go thwugh nnd tell ii. 117 WeJJ, no\"', this 'un hen~, 1.his here, "Hard Hardyhead [sic)." Now hit wa~ a wa• Slarted OUI ofa wi1.ch had a witch 'chantment on a bccdutiful ,laughter. Aud ever one of 1he others had got killed. And so, Will anti Tom was .ill lhat was left. And ~o, Will l«::p1. hc:ggin his mother, say, "Mother." "Mama,'' tJiey usually called it, in IM mou,,tains. "Mama, will you let me go?" Said, "l believe I can do i1 .." And she said, "WeU-" to get ii. hard on 'e.m. Nuw you know yon cm,. '1 cany 1111,clt ttl{llf.1• in. a f/.ijtr.r. That's tlte 1Jld sifter that they used to sift meal i,~ yim bunu. A murui sif1t1·. Said, "You go being enough water irs 1his sifl,:r· l.o hake- to bake I wo pones of hread for your lnnc.h, for your ,!inner. Well, Will wcul. with 1hal sifler 10 the spring. And ever lime he'd dip ii up that water 'uldjust run out and leave 1hem hluhlu:r., hetmx:rs llu: ~•ptan,s ors llu: little ~c.n,en. Ancl a little s1,,muw-hinl woulcl fly over aml dart its wiugs and say: "Spread it "~lh moss, Daub it with mud, And it'll hold waler." l.i11k f,ird 11,vmld . Will kept ors, it a-danin by his head, ~ml S:ai(l 1 "You litrlc dic.kcl, you." 118 Sa.id> 1e c;c1. away frorn hen~> you /\·botherin me." Go1.-0,:w a little: mac!, you know. Throwed off. A1Ui it goes good, because mad ,uitu anytlii11g, you k,u,w. ls the •~aso,i I like this '1m. And so, he: tun it off arnl come: b;u:k, and she baked- He finally carried, a•runnin and his tongue a•hangin out he got so nigh go ne a-gc:ttiu c:11ough w"1.,:i· ,qucczc: Well, he got it and she baked iL And she fixed him a bottle of water fnr his cldnkin. to go with it. Arni he: ,mck oul. 1.0 go to the: witc:h's palac:c:. And he come to a big oak In:<:. A big white oak tree. It was big and damp and shady, spn:acl 0111 iu rhc: lap of it Arni then: wa~ a man a·Sc:Uin there with his cane up asr-,in' rhc 1t11nk or th"t big tree with~ big beard a•hangin down 10 here. And he says, "Young man." Ht: ,ays, "I'm hungry." H<: ,aid, "Would you give me something to cat?" Arni Will sa.~sc:d him. He said. he say,, "I "it,'1. got but two li1tlc pom,s of bread." And he said, "I worked to get hit" And he said, "l ain't gonna give: it 10 a thing like: you. None of my caciu." Well, he wc:111. 011. Got l.o the witch's palace. Witch come out with that hackard aud 1.0 r.hc: ,mmp. 119 Shr: madr. a hct with him that he couldn't beat her. And ~he laid the hackard down onto that big stump and just got up on it, give a flip and hit her hips agin' it and never even got a scrau-h. And said, "Ha, ha, ha. I'm okay." And Will got up on it. Hr. give a flip and stuck that hackard plumb through his hips. Siartr.d back home: a-blr.r.din and drug off in the thicket of the creek and died. Died there. Andso that really fi:xr.d the Mama. Tom, then. ill a little while, about six monlhs or a year, he said, "Mama, I've took a notion to go do thaL" She &aid, "0-h, gosh." Said, "You'll go like Will, my oldest boy, Will." Said, • We never did find him." Said, "Hr. died like rhe rr.st and never did find him." Wdl, he kept beggin and finally she thought she'd bluff him with the sifter. And she said, "Well, if you11 ta~e thatsifter and go ca,-ry r.nough watr.r to bake thtte pones of bread." Tlu,ugM lie t0uldn't gel u dtmt, you know. And he went, and that liule bird, ~parrow, come over, just a- Said, "Spread it with moss, And daub it with mud, And hit'II hold water.• lk kr.pt on. He said, "Ehhh-get away from here." Said, "You'vr.just a-ruined me a-runnin to go to get this water dripped out of thr. ~iftr.r." 120 Well, lhe hird just left. He kept runnin and finally got enough to bake three pones, and she fixed him a bottle of water. And bi: got to this tree and I.here set tbac man. But ,uitJ1e,· one, you knOU\ neuer lived to tell tlu otlur '11 about tlle man. Neithe,· 01u didn't know he was there end, time, :,ou Jee. And he said, "Give me something co eat." And Tom says, •1 ain't more'n got enough for myself." He said, "I've got to save myself." And he \Velll on. She put that out and hi:. got killed. Jlie went on, three or four years, Jack a,heggin. He was the baby, young boy. He'd say, "Mama, J've got a leelin that! can do ic.• Said, "lbey's something in me that's different. I believe I-" She said, "You've all the one I've got left to help me, to gee wood and help rne arou11d my home." And said, "You go now, and I'm old-." Husband, his dad, father- "Papa, • as tllrj called him he'd done passed away, done gone, and just her and the three boys. Aud so directly she said, • If you'll gee enough water to hake five pones of hread• He went and that little bird mme over. Andjack was- he'd listen. 121 And the tone of that song of the bil'd would go iu his c-..r, iu his e~r. Said, "Spread it with moss, And dauh it witl, 1111111, Am.I it'll hold water.• And Jack 'uld turn his head. It was" 't sjl,akin it j1lai11, yc,,i kM111, the bird's wiu. And direc1ly he caught it. And he reached down and got him some moss out of the water a,ul clm1bccl tJ,c hc,1.t,,u1 of die .'i.1:rct-:11 and put mud over h like a robin a•buildin its nest. i'ou lw.ow, that's the way a pretty robin builds irs n&St, Ollt 0{'11111(/, and water aY1d g.-as., .,tmw. A11,I tlley take mud and 111b their bodJ it1 tli,e,~, 11,t11l !',H: ,tr.en ·,m, TtLin Jul( usr. 'nn tL'i 11, cup. And he brought enough at one load. A siftel' fuU. 8rouglu it in at one load. Ami so sloe bake,! 11,e live pone,;. Anol he got to that m:e and !here sal. that fdler with I.he beai-d a11cl his cane, And he says, "Young man," he ~aid. <•wou1(1 yon give me sonu~1hing to eat~,. Jack says, "You obliged-" said, "you obliged to half of my eatin. Fiv,~ pou"s or bread ai1d half of my bottle of water." And when they went to eatin, she five pones orhrea A11CI wh<:11 they w<:11l to drink water our. or ch" horde, it. hact 1n111ed to wii1c. 111e puniest red wine you'd ever looked at. Ancl ever time they'd drinJ<. it down a little, the bottle would fill back up itself. Aud on they bolh sat there aud eat ever bite they could ear. and then there set the big cake 122 1.hac cl": five pones of bread had mmed 10. :nul 1.lu: wine hottle full. So jack said, "I've got to be on my way." Said, he said, "Where you a-going?" He said, ~r,u a-going l.o uy l.o hn:ak I.hat 'd,a,ttn\t:nt on th<: witdt and get that beautiful girl out of there.• He said, "You'll he ldllecl like. all 1.he. re.st .. " He said, "Will you do- will you do what I tell you?" He says,Jack says, "Whm? 01,ligecl." Said, '"\A'Jtat i.o; ii.?,, He says, "11,ey's a IK1ilin spriug righc up in 1.lu: WcK11ls I.hen:." And he reached him a stick. Just hrnke off a sti<:k and n:adu:d it l.o Ja<:k. And he said, "You go up theTe in the woods and if you can turn that spring to wine a-steerin if with thi.< stick," said, "you've got faith.• J~ck went up in there and got the boiling .spring and he st.een:cl and s1<:en:d and steered. And he said, "I just don't believe my faith is strong enough." AND ABOlJTTIIATTIMF. IT l.OOKF.J) A J.ITTI.F. PINK. And when he looked back it was wine. And there stood the old man- the bearded man with the cane. He saicl, "You've got faith all right.• Got ha,~k down to i.hc tree and he said. "Now I've got. a ship a fold•up ship." And he said, "You can unfold it- Cany it. nuder youT ann OT on your shoulder." And said, "If you wam to rid-1: when you get tired, you c:an unfold it aud say, 'Ship, fly! Ship, Oy!'" And said, "You can glide right over the tree tops." Anet he sai,I, "Now one thing I want to tell you.• He said, "You pick up t_yer man tJ 1al. ')"Oil ,'iCC 123 from here 1.0 the witch's palace." Said, "You pidt up ever man that you see." And soJack thanked him and took the ship and went on out and unfolded it and called on ii, and ii. just. riz up over the u-ce. And he hadn't rid very far till he seed a man a-going, just a-buttin big trees down and knock.in big rock out with hi$ head. Jack floated the ship down a little low over him, ;i.ud he said, "What's your name, sir?" He said, "My name's Hardy Hardhead, sir." He said. "llardy llardhead, you must be into my ship." Said, "111e way you a•knoekin lhem trees down with your head,• he said, "it musl. be hard." Well, Hardy f.lardhead got in. And so, he rid on a little piece. I'll try to gtt 'm all in now. I believe it j 5even of em. B1tt smrutimes J miss oru, but l g,,1 'em on tile UJSI. And he went on a little piece, and he seed a man a•going up a branch. Drunk it dry-· lookin out of the ship. And he drunk it dry and he hit a creek and run on and was in the ri.Y!:!'. a-tlrinkin some 01.11. of iL And lte lowered down and hollered, said, "What's your name, sir?" He said, "My name's Orinkwell, sir.• I le said, "Drinkwell, you must be imo my ship: And Drink.well got in, I le rid on, on. And be come across a lit tie hill and he- Over the hill, he looked down and seed a man swallercd a sheep ,d19lc. Wool and all. [l.augbter] 124 Just swallered it whole- wool and all on. And he floated his ship down. And he swallered the sheep and then was up towards a cow. And Jack got down by that time, and he said, "What's your name, sir?" He said, "My name is Eatwell, sir.• He said. "Eatwell, you must be into my ship.• And he went on and he seed a man a-holdin his hand over his ear. noated down to him, and he said, "What's your name, sir?" He said, "HOLD IT, HOLD rr, HOID m· Said, "Who is that a•speakin to me, a-knock.in me 0111?" Said, "I'm a.J.istenin at (hem g-nats grit their teed, ,-,ay up yonder in the elements.• [Laughter] Said, "What's your name, sir?" He said, "My name's Heai-well, sir." He said, "HearweH, you must be into my ship.• And, he went on. He could see a man a•runnin. And he lowered the ship, and about that time a rabbitjumped out in front of the man. And he run and caught the rabbit. And the rabbit was a-runnin, just a-stayin in the air nearly,just a-gettin it jump Jik.e a deer, and he picked that rabbit up in his right hand and he was just a-hittin on one foot now and tllen. [La11ghte1·] He wasn't a-,unnin with bod1 feet, ju.st a-hittin usingone. A-hoppin, and just a-hittin the otlier'n to help out now and then. And ca.ught the rabbit in his right hand and him a-going that fast the rabbit. 125 Pic:k,~I it up iu hi, right hand. Just a-hiuin on one fool, either, now and then. One foot to lhe other'n. He said, "What's your name, sir?" He siiid, '';\fy name is RunweU, sir.• I k ,ai,I, "Rnnwell, you mus\ he into my ship." So, he went on. And he: seed a man witli his hawg rif!t: a-sigh1in. Jack hollered, ,aid, "What's your uamc:?" He said, "HUSH, Hl.iSH, HUSH!" He said, "You're gonna mess me up witli my shot." He said, "What's- He said, "HOLL> IT, HOLJJ IT, HOLL> IT!" He ,aid, "I'm a-fixin to knock a squirrel', eye out over yonder in Scotland." (La11ghler} He said, "You about lo knock me out of hiuin." I k ,aid, "I'm gonna kuoi:k its cydmll out over in Scotland." [!.augh ter) i\ndso, Jac:k said. "\Vteat's your uatnc?" He said, "My name is Shootwell." He said, "Shootwell, into my ship." So he went on. Now I m:kon now I got 'en, all in. I'll get 'em o,i tlle last, if I did,. '1. J 1nif$ rnt.l .ffnnr.li1lte.r.. Solu:wcul.ou ~ml 11C: clhln't. ~cc any 01.lu:r'u. He got to the witch's palace. And he hollered, and she come out. H~ said, "l'v~ got all my m~n hter~, awl J':n c.cunc: to see if I can break your 'chantmenl." 126 And tlie ,,i1d1 8aid okay. And she bettedJack fifteen cents agin' him fifteen Iha! he didn"t have nary ma11 1.ha1. could bcs, And Jack said, "llarrly Hacrlhead here. sir." I lardy Hardhc:ad come out in front. llte wi1ch laid !he hackard down and got up 011 ii, went, •EHHHH-YYYYYUUUUUUUUUUI" Turned a somerset and slruck her hips on tlic hac.kard and on offon her feet a-runnin back around in circles. And said, "I ain't got a scratch.• Hacdy Hardhead got up on that smmp. And he looked at that hackard and swelled his chest up and give a six somersel in tlie air and com<: around in time: and hit his h,:ad agin' that hackard. And they said you didn't find a piece of it. It wa.~ goru::. And his head not hurl. Well. the witch said, "You've out me on thaL • Said, "111 bc:1. you--• Said, "I'll bel you 1hirty cents agin' youc chiny, now, thal you ain"t got nary man that can outmn me." Jack said, "Runwell here, sir." Rnnwdl .,1cpp1:d out. And the witch went to her hen-house and got a agg- two aggs. Or broke a agg, aggs, aucl got. a aggshell apiece. And said, •Now, the way we'll chec.k it, said, .. we·u go l.o I.he or.t:are, and !he water's salty. and W<:'11 know if we've been lhere and back." And so tlu: wit.ch said. "Om,. Two. Three. Co!" And off her and Runwell took to the ocean. Runwell-- lhe way he run after that rabbit, he left that witch like she was standin still. She j11s1. lookc:d like she wa.< standin there, he went so fasl. TI1e way he caught the rabbit. 127 And Runwell got to 1hr. <><:c:an a11d had Iii, aggsltell full of water, a-mnnin back with it and met her on a half.way run. Met the: witch just thcrr. half-way. Done: br.r.n therr. ancl bad<. and met her on a. half-way run. And she seed she'd had it. And she spoke to him. Said, "It ain't no usr. 1.0 do tbaL" S:.id, "St:1. down hc:re and lake a $pell ·with me." 'lbere was a oak tree there. Said, "Set dO\m here to this oak tree and take a ,pell with me." And Runwell made a bad go. He set down with her. Got him to sle<:p a11d ,hr. wi1chcd him. Put a skull-bone under his head, and long as that skull-bone was there, he'd sleep·. Long as it was under his head. Yeah, SMvell. T11ert it is now. I kft Seewell out owhik ago. / gr.t 01?11 MU. Bill it's tlie hanust to get 'em in tlim:. Seei~tll But I get 'tm on 11,,: la.,i Seewell And he says, "Seewell, here, sir." And Seewell got down and looked. I le ,aid, "Yeah." Says, "I'"" him yonclr.r half-way to the ocean." And said, "She's nearly to the ocean." And said, "She'• witched him and got a skull-bone undei- his head• And Jack ,aid, "Shoo1.wdl herr., sir." Shootwell got down with his hawg rifle, knocked that skull-bone out from under his head, and knocked Runwell senseless. And he got up and n.m around in a sixeeircle. six times circle, and caught his mind back. Come back and took back to the hen•house a11d got another agg,hdl and went back. 128 And the witch was just there: a-stoopin ovc:, lo gt:t her'n full tbe first 'un. And he pushed lwr in and dmwneded her and come back. And that ended it. And.Jack married the beautiful daughter. And the last time J was down through thc:rc they was a-doing re,d well. Andtlwt'.,- A nd that bird t1ow is tile difference, 1ha1 they dUri 't ge~ l don~ tltinJt. Hil aitl t itl the book, I do11 't think, WMl'8 t/ie bin/ wu.• a-lalJtin. Thal 11)(« IM <>ld way ef it. A~1yi•1 to tell 'em al~ 1/u bird wtU. (Duration: 21 minutes, 40 seconds) "Hardy Hardhead" is one of manyJack Tales in which the hero must confront a witch. In another version of this tale performed on May 12, 1986, Hicks offers a chal'acteristic metanarrative a.side in which he explains how to tum into a witch. I'm gonna pul j., 1herc: the: way they told !.!l!: tomakea.!l:'.i.ldl, if you want to hearit. The way they told me to l.ie a witch was kill twdvc hlack ca1s, suck a sow hog nine days in a muddy pen, huh, Ilaughter) an A half-a~:cond a look a1. i1, you'd lx;- l'U say a feUer 'uld be ~ethi..ng. lt'd change him into somelhlng a~uckin that p.9g. And them there catr I've killed a few black cats. They'll ge1. on you worse than a [?). 129 I'll tdl you that's rii;ht. Yeah, a black cal., to kill it'll haim you worse than a (?] or any other curse. Just as it is nccess:u-y for a shaman to be inducted into what Mircea Eliade calls "techniques of ecstacy," so too is it necessary for a witch to follow a prescrihed initiation rite. Such a colorful folk belief in supernatural transformations enhances the trnditional oral flavor of Hicks's telling of "Hardy Ha1·dhead." In this tale,Jack is able to beat such a supe1·human creatm·e as the witch only because he has been generous to the needy beggar, witll whom the boy shares his lunch. Both Will and Tom, however, ignore the old man's plea for foorl. The storyteller disapproves ofjack's brothers for their neglect ofa fellow creature. "Well, I'd a-give him halfanyway, " Hicks contends, "and if I'd a•had breakfast, ['d <>•give him all of it." Such an evocative detail reflects not only Ray Hicks's generosity, but his uninhib ited projection ofhi mselfinto these stories. The storyteller's appetite and the time of his last meal are elements which enter into Hicks's portrayal of his charncters in these jack Tales. Another personal detail which is recounted in Hicks'~ telling of "l lardy l fardhead" concemsascrious case of blood poisoning nine--year· old Ray developed in his foot and leg. The infection was eventually cured with a wheat poultice, butthe episode left an impression upon his memory as well as his memoirs. The following recollection was recorded on November 16, 1985. I go1 where I could hop a little on it, put it to the grouod. And that's the reason my leg here is so much stronger and bigger, ,n this ~ide 1.han I am this. l~d so much on tlia1. foot a-Kelling wood, on one kg. Makes me think where, in "Hardy lfardhead," where Rnnwell ~"ught Ilia! rnhhil. And h<: even, yeah, he cvr:11 caught it. you know, and was just a-hittin on one foot ever now and then. And pkked the rAbhil. np and hit a-going that fasl. !{unwell did. !The storyteller demons1.at,:s 1.his one-legged stride while remaining seated.] 130 Well, 1hat's the w;iy I wa., a- And I learnt where I could jump three and four feet m, one: leg -.i1.h little poles of wood on my shoulder. Thus, Hick&'s biography influences his portrayal ofeven such a relatively minor character as the fleet-footed Runwdl. A storyteller who. 131 honored in myth and legend as the messenger of the gods, which aeu him apart from his two brothers. This gift of tongues marks the hero who, like his nan-ative creator, recognizes that "They's something in [him] that's different. "Mircea Eliade in Shamanism; A1-chaic Techniqr.us ofEcstacynotes the shaman's power to communicate with birds: "All over the world learning the language of animals, especially of birds, is equivalent to knowing the secrets ofnature and hence to be able to prophe&y.... These animals can reveal the secrets of the future because they are thought 10 be receptacles for the souls of the dead or epiphanies of the god&. Learning their language, imitating their voice, is equivalent to ability to communicate with the beyond and the heavens" (98). One phenomenon that signals both Ray's and Jack's difference is their perception ofspirits. Unlike his two brothers,Jack is able to hear the spiritof the bird advising him to daub the holes in the sifter with mud, "like a robin a-buildin its nest." Hicl:s describes the presenc~ of such a spirit as "something that you've never felt on ~arth. A-<:urious. Now, a ~ri...1 is something that you've never felt in your lifetime on this planet here, of a earthly thing. It's a odd thin_g when you get in on a spirit." On Saturday, May 19, 1984, during a session devoted mainly to his stories of specters and apparitions, Hicks the shaman discussed the skepticism of non-believers. Bur. now, th,fd say, "Ray, we don'I believe that. You've got to !ake us." l said, "You won't see nothin if you go there with your miud on it. You've got to see it !ll-thoughted." TI1~t you've a•""<>lkin along 1hcrc and your mind some other way, on SOIIIClhing els.:, Spirits, it &eems, are shy. The)' will not appear on demand. Instead, the sensitive communicant must have his mind "some other way, on some thing else,• in order to see the spirit "un-thoughted." 1bis is exactly the manner ofJack's exchange with the spi1it of the helpful bird in "Hardy Hardhead." Although Hicks's storytelling is charged witll sightings ofghosts and haints, only one final comment concerning spirits will be included here. On Saturday, November I 6, 1985, out ofadescription ofhis father's self. employment peeling tan bark emerged the following account of the old road over which the family drove their team ofmules-a road which Hicks claims to have been haunted. And they've changed 1he road from the way you come in. 11u: old road w<:nl. across up herr: wl,r.re it was hainted, they said. At the top out pface up there said the ghostes 'uld eat you up. 132 And I'd come through there an Oxford: You'd see the hainl$? Yeah. Walkin in the air. Their fe.et wouldn't ne.ver hie the ground. Spiri1s a-walkin. And I've. sruc!ied anymore-- Now, I talk tliis with me. a-feelin with~- I've stu,lied .:u,ymore. with the. pe.ople li>in what's went with 'em. l11ey all tell me (hey can't see nothin. Well, it's go1. me a-doubtin, as m~11y as I've seed. 1',e a-doubtin was ic in Ray or what? And I'll have to say, "No, I've seed that." And hit 1night be I've studied that hit had to be that you wa,1 teached with Cod so 1.he spirit would work. And aue.r I.he. be.lie.vin went out and said, "I lit hain't nothin like that,• you ain't got no spil'it in you 1.0 ckaw it in you. To make (he spirit of (hat come to you, whe.re they'd come. bacl. This reflective aecount offers a vivid illustration of Hicks's own sense of his God-given gift to commune with spirits. The shaman must have a strong spirit himself in order "To ma)(e the spirit of that come to you." Failure to nurture a beliefin such spirits results in the death ofone's o,vn soul. Consequently, the spirits also disappear, for there are no eyes to see them, no ears to hear. But for true believers like Ray Hicks andjad:, the spirits live on in them both. According to Eliade, the sighting ofspirits is a clear indication that the initiate has transcended the mortality of his human condition. Eliade writes: "'Seeing spirits,' in a dream or awake, is tl1e determining sign of tlte shamanistic vocation, whether spontaneous or voluntary. For, in a 133 manner, having contact with the. souls of the. dead .\ignifies being The Heifer Hide I'll tell you 011e more. 11.()')(I. I am't .,UJ11,l it lik, f ,,.,d tn rfi,/ to tell 'em. I used to ,011/d tell fim,· and fi,;e- nr rigl,~ ort;m- tn young'1ms ofa night. nr,,k wltm I was in my lwenli-es and m:, thirty years old. 1:/rfo,., I ,i,n· got my bndy bmke. l 'd gn In J/,,. p,opl~ '., /um.-:.<, ymt knnw, a•1d tc/1 it. /I ,1,,,,, ,,., kid,- / /t)(it little kids, you k11ow. A-111( bo-,s tltrry wo11ld teally e.11joy it. 134 Som~ UJ()U/d lay on thei,· clv.st nnd be way Im.ck Jro,n me, cashful, as tltey called i~ when. T. 11u little boys, ymt knuw. 11,ey'd crawl up and lay tMr, And "The Heifer Hide" now. Jack- Their dad give 'em gave 'em-- They called it "give• back then, at that time.. That •gave• word 111(1$ ju.st IP.ndu:d w u., 111/,r.n 1111: when J wmt to school. Chang,,!, " new 1111ml We-called it 'give. • "Give,• nc1 "gave," yo11 know. l.ike they call it anymore and . And lu: give: Will and Tom a big- big fine-look.in horse :.piece to get 'em to dear n~wground good. Work. s~id, "Now. boys, I'm gonna give-• Said, "Will and Tom, I'm gonna give you'uns " big horse apiece if you'uns'II work. good and get out in that other tract of land and clear up newground for springtime." tk gi•t: Ia.ck a little old lousy heikr r.alf. Lice had part of the hair cal off of it. And them there grubs in its back likc: that 11y tJ,at stings 't:m in the hc:d that was created. And it comes through the blood sueam and goes up through and r,ocs in !heir back and makes them gn1hs in cattle's backs. /'vr. m.aslud 'em t>ut uJ ·,.m. /1 nearly kills 'em. Grows a big grub in their ba,ks and ,,.L, 11. hok thr 135 c,, uut 11,,ul mM And dury ha,,,, w mn in 111ud tn . It ,muta hurt, the ,vay thry 'd "'''"K their tail. Gn.,h, thry'd 1111ing thefr tail that way. And I alway., figu,'f'd it ,-eally hu1t- luul a p,,i,i lo it- d1t way tlley drtaded it. And so I.hey went to dear that ground. Andjack he never could sc;en, likc- "ith his way lie couldu'1. work long. He had his mincl on He quit aud went to the house. Log cabin. Will and Tom His lirdeold heifer calf come through a liule while after 1.hat. And they flew a little ill off of it. Sahl, c.Now, it ain·1 fair for him lo louse off and make us have to clear all this ground." Anti Will tultl Tom, he said, .. You run it through and I'll cut a timber on it." lVllir.h WfL"- a b·ee. Call,d it a timber. • And I'll cut a timber on it and kill it. An,I we'll go in am! tell liim that it just happened to run ofit." Tom headed it through just as Will had the timbcn:omln down, 1.he 1.ree, and ii sunk it acroos the middle. 1~6 Dkd in a few minutes. The calf, heifer did. They went in and said, "Now,Jack, you loused off and didn't help us clear to watch your calf over there: And said, "le c.ome through with them grub with them 1hel'e gmh Oies a-ny stingin its hcd and with its mind took off and run und,~r tl1t~ uw:. And we didn't mean-- wouldn't hav,~ kill,~ it fol' nothin." But tiley 'd killed it a-purpose and was a,./,yin to him, JfYlt know. Said, "We wouldn't have hurt }·our calf for nothin." But said, "It come through just as he had a tree a•fallin, we did. And it just sunk it through the middle. It's a•layin over there." And Jack said he wcnt- he said, "J\h-h-h, bedad• Ile .\aid, "I don't care muc.h no way." He said, "I been a-wantin some ~ CO t":3.C.,. And he -~kinned it out, eat the meat up, and put _Ill<~ hid,~ up to C.UI'(: whik h,~ was eatin the meat. And lhey said-- He was kindly poor, Jack was. 'lhin. Ile was a chin- tl,in little ft:llel'. Weighed about, rd say, a hutid~ed mui truml'_tjitie or tl1iriy pounds. Or maybe a hundred and twetity. And they said when he got chat meat eat up, h,~ was so fat you ,:ouldn't see his eyes. [Audience laughter] They'd growed over. [Laughter] And so, his hide, he went and checked it. And it was cured. I k got it out one foggy drizzlin the rain. 137 And 1,,ot in !.he o:her little old loi_i grnr..;.(y k1ildin. And a-~cuffi!I h ,.;,11 corr. shur.ks. And Wili and Tom h:.ppcn,~d I.() c.omc aro,md to see w.har. he was lmo. He was always. yc,u know, into u,m~thing dla,. they didn•r, st:e into. And I.hey d,~ck:::d ar,d found him in there. And I.hey said, "Ia.ck, what in ihe nati~n arc yo!• ~• loing?' Ik said, 'l'm a,going to seek .my fortune." They sairl, ''Wirh 1.h~ like cf tm.J.?" S:i.id, ".Q<>.4. 1.111:y'll kill you, 1 to g-et. out with ~hat on )'Our ba..:..~. ~ He said, "They mighi kill 1>«: bul I'm a-going (O ~eek my fonune: Tiu:;· 0;1i1!, "Y()lfll seek 'er.' I le took off lh:: next day. Up tlite next mo,:nin about ten o"ck•ck. And he traveled and traveled. The log cahin.,; was fer apart. Thin ien.Jed. )';,u knm11, they cnuldn ~ ln,ild only just wlterr, it 11,a.i a spring: And sw,u: of 'em- l'ue kwtd some of em myself, w lkwe to ·,cc Q1t/ of""~ .tpring muf. rorry·· tome 'uld haw I<> cany, mh,,-, thr.y b-uUr, fiJr a .~k. tft.f.ir u:ar.,.1 tJvry u.rtd. They ,J.idn •, ms """' 111 bath in. H-'hen tluy 1JM11t to bath. tl,r.y /:.i1 th( c,-e,k. N I've washed 11,1 clcthes in the creek, .rtor.kim and all, and wring 'em •>1/.t fm:l~y grw:J. affd put, 'ttr. badt 01! and d1y 'ert1 as I went with my bcJy. Feels g,'<>d. Thats tile T,ecllhie;t wash in J/J'l.t got, is v, g,:t tn t./iese !Y.lld. cr-eth11 (>ranches. And so, he finally come 1.0 1.he one, first log cabin. An,I lu: l,o!lered, "Hello, hello. Howdy do." This little lacly t:onH.: out, seed thal. m, !,in,, said, "Lordy mercy. I.only men:y." Said, "What in the carnation have you got on your back?' He said, "Ah, bedad, it ain't good for a feller to tell all- evertl,ing l,e knows." (Audience laughter] Said, 'That's my business, wha1.'s on my had<.." He says. "Pardon me, lady." O,- ·110,0,y, • he wed "honey," I believe. nl'ardon me, honey."' lie says. "Would i1. be: a-liable- would it be a•liable"- 771at was a old /ry-,IIOtrl. "Would it. he a-liable for me to stay here tonight?" She said, "Law, me." Sai(l, 0 Tlu.: n1an of 1.l,c l1ouse i:-. gone." fac:k sai,!, "Well, 'pardon me. I'll be on my way." And lie went on. Come to the se<:ond house. And he hollered there and this lacly mme 0111 .. Ht say:;, "llow 'bout spemliu the night here?" She: said, "Nol. a-bull.in in-• Sai He said, "Ah, bcdad, il won't do to tell.• Said, "How 'bo111. spc:ndin tin: night?" Says, «k~:~, me... Said, "The man of the house is gone." 139 He said, "Well, pacdon me. I'D be on my way." And he got on 'tween Iliac 'nn and the third '11n. Ami it hit his mincl- /ik,: I wfl.! t,.iuhed tha1.- that the third tlppccl out. Nm~ 111, was 1,ath,d 1hat tl,e tldTtl lime tipp,:d 1111! That was do il or die. Way we was uachM. Do it or ,i;,, wilh it. 1 was mised that way. n,, i1 ,,,, ,1;,,. Not giue 1,p. Do itot,lu. Not thicket1 out, as IMJ r.all il nnymnr,,, you knuw. The-y diickened out 011 it. And so Jack thought of that, and he said, "Now the next house I'm a-comin to, rm gonna stay~. Whether she wants me to or not, if he's gone." Well, he hollered and she come out. Said, "llow\ly do. Howdy do." Said, "How 'bom spendin the night here?" Said, "Law !!!S., spend the night here." Said, ~lbe man of the house is gone.• I Je said, •mame tlie man of the house and all of yo11r dam kin." Said, ~Ibis is the third house that I'm asked 10 be right co stay, and I can·t get to stay. I'm gonna s1;1y anyhow." Said, "The third 1.ipped out• Said, "I was ceachecl that the third tipped out. And I'm a~tayin here." 140 She said, "Well, wdl, wdl, we.II, we.U," Says, "Come on in, then." Went on in and she got him to go ups1airs, iu the little guueli11 unrler tht: gable. They usually had a hewed--0ut floor ,nul a liule gablt: 11nor up iu the attic of a log cabin. Just put some- li 11lc- Dry their com a lot of times. Wlrnt Ihde com they raist:cl. So slie. p111. ltim up 1lte.re.. And he hadn't laid up there Was give out, and his hide up with him. He hadn't been up there more than (hiny minutes, or somewheres along there, lill he llmuglu. lie l,t:art:cl a man a-tall And he kept huntin in the little attic floor,. ancl he found a 1'>11. ltolt:, where a rat ·had cut a hole '1.ween tht: two c:ra<:ks. Like he eat a hole at. And he got to loo.kin and it was righ1. over whe.rt: the. t:atiu table. wa~ a1 .. And there was a man there with a ~.uit on. Pre.u.y suitable ft:llt:r. And strainin his eye through tha1 hole., he'd have to shut one, and the water ran out of it. and rf:sl. i1, aud look with I.ht: otl,er'n, that way. A.ml kept Jookin and directly sl,e. wt:ut to the n,pboard ruul got om beef-meat and pork and chicken. And they both eat 'em a litrle. of 1.ha1. e-..d, emf:. Then took hands ancl danced around the table. An,! afo:.r they quit dancin, she went to t.ht: <.upboarcl- an old homemade cupboard-· and got out some fruit<.ake.. 141 lt was aged with tli,~ li11i1. soaked in it. Pl1mpki11 pir.. And brought it out. And they eat 'em a piece or som,~thing of thaL Took hands and dan<:oo arnuml again. And him a-watchin, a-l't:sl.in eacli eye, where she put it back at, yon know. Ami directly, she: w,~111. and go1. pure corn whiskey, like r.h<:y made hack then. Out ,,J t/,e p11,·e com, Spro11ted tfieir Cti111 fvr mall.. No sugar nbout it. l'111e com w!tiskey. A 11d flit aged, till ii was ·1e,,,m ,JrJi/Um )"''"' ol,l. And I've tlr1tnk it Now you've got a jla11or. Hit's not like this bl11e-beaded stuff tl,at 'II shoot to )'OW' l1ead atui mn you c.-azy. Yim fr.el b,tt,r 1,jl,r it's cmt oj)'Ou tlian you did wiie•~ )'OIi dnmk it. !IRtJs you,- inte.sti=. Good rn.edir.iul!. Awl ,vin,. 1f1a1 was aged till its turned kindly lmn,m, l't,e dmnh hit. Yo1t talk afmut .,tm,,tJ,ir,g t,J your liJ,s, A1ul bu1:ruly n1.11. cnti ufii. Now that's got a flavor-• In ,.., it rigl,t, Not 1,y to overdo it. Yl)11 k nm,~ you can tl1111k 100 11md1 1l!llUr atilt lmrt yo1< / ,\11,iimtt uwglm,,J I've beet1 wate,-Jowulered. And so, brought that out, and s,ud when I.hey drnnk loir, in a few minnrc:.~ I.hey r.ook hands and danced till the table fell 142 Anciso directly, Jack heared a fuss in above the house ~o far·. Jost could hear it a lillle hit in his ear. A~oing: "Oh-h-h. 0-h-h. 0-h-h." And directly got louder: "Oh-h-h. 0-h, my legs. 0-h, my legs." And he got on down to the front of the little porch to the log cabin, and he fell in the yard. And just got-- Tried 10 Cl'awl up on the edge of the porch to get to the door. He was a-workin, a-~'alkin twenty to 1hircy miles a day. And she heared him and run out. And he said, "Old lady-" lie said, "'I'm got-" I le said, "I lave you got ;1ny1hing to cat?" She said, "Now, you know what's around this place." Said, "Cold cornbread and milk.• Well, he says, "Help me up and gel. rm: in the: house and see if I can eat a little and gt:t a li1de s1.re.ngth. • And she got him in there. And 1.hc: old fdlcr· wa., a~:;1lin" liule of it. And Jack wade a mumble of a fuss up overhead. Ht: looked around. Said, "Old lady, what's that up then:?" Oh, she said, "I forgot to tell you." Said, "There wa., a Jiu!c, rnl. of a li:ller· come uy here." And said, •1 rold him you was gone." And said, "He. said tile. rhird tipped out. We wa.~ the third house and he was gonna stay anyhow." And said, •1 put him up in the: a11ic. • He hoUered up, said, "Hello up there." Said, "Whar!s your name?" 143 He sa.id, "My name's Jac:k. • Well, he said, "l've always been a clever man. Cleve,· man. Aud when I e:tl, I want the other'n to eat, what 1 eat." Arni she wenr. and got him down. Jack brought the heifer hide, set it on the lcfl. of him, on one of them hewed slum~, on the left. And lhe old feller was over on the ,ight. And run his arm- Wel~ ltt ltad11 't 11111 Ms am1 yet. He was just gettin starled. And when he went to eat a little of that cold cornbread, his sf.or11:u:h come in one a•s.lappin his brains out. From all chat good eatin he'd seen 1hrough that rat hole. llejt«t c:ouldn'c cat it. Andmold- The cornbread had a little mold on it, like where i1.'s laid long, you know. And Jack st,,rt.ed. He run his hand through there in the hd fer hide and throwed his voice a little to hir.. And hit whined a liule. He whiner! his voic.<: through it. /\nd the old fdlc:r looked over. He said, 'Jack-• He said, 'Jack, is that thing a-tryin to t.1lk?" He .,airl, "Yeah, that thing-• Said, "Hit's ,ncssed me up with the women, the woman ofche house, c\·erwhcre I've took it, 91 And said, "l made hie promise me 1his trip lliat it'd !mvc to promise to kccpit.,mouth shut.• [Aurlif'.nce laughter] He said, "It's made ever woman of the house mad where: I've cook it. Tdlin ~ nu 'cm." I k sai,I, "11tat thing a-talkint" 144 lie said, "Yeah, hit talks if I don't keep it belt ,!own.• H<: saitl, "I've got to really slap it.• He'd hit it. Direc1.ly he say,, "What i~ it a-wantin to say,Jacl:.?" Well,Jacl,:. said, "Now," he saitl, "it'll make lhe woman of dte house mad." fie .aitl, uDarq-"' NrmJ u '.t "b/m,u," the way tltey've got it {i11 Chase], lntt "darn• is the way it was. "Dam, the woman of the house. And all of her dam, kin. LET IT TALK!" Well,Jack put his hand in there and he throwed his voice through its lips. Said, said, "They's beef and chicken-meat and pork 11":rr, in I.he cupbmml." lie says. "Old lady, is 1hat right?" Said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hit's right." Said. "A little I was keepin for the kin-folks when they come, neighbor.;." He said, "Ah, great- me and Jack's the kin.folks right now." Said, "Fetch it out." Well, she brought it out. Anti Jack c,it all he wauled of hit. Well, then he started with him. :1.-worki11 its lips. He started again, ,--(11111.erin •em. Like it was-- 145 He ~aid, "I-fold it, hold i:, hold it, hold it. Hold it, honey. Tiold it." He said, "Jack, is i1. already a-ulkin ~~iu;:• He ~aid, '"Yea~•. It'~ dmt(: made the woman mad, and l hare it." Jk s;1i Sairl, "It'• fmitc:akc, aged, there in lhe cupboard, and pumpkin pie." And he ~ai Said, "Yeah, yeah. Some baled-·· :, ..kr.:c:pin, lt:U.iu i1. ag<: wit], tire: frnir. soaked in ll, and lhe pumpkin, for the neighbors wh,:n they come. A-p1ayiu s.hc 1uusic: and havin buck d~ncin." He said, 'We've a--p[ayfo, gonna play n,usk now. Buck dance." Saitl, •Fc:tdi it out." Said, ".Me and Jad,'l! do that." And so, Jack eat all he wanr.l':d of that. Au He said, 'Jack, l8 it a•tryio lo r;,lk ~g:iin, ~heady?" Said, u\i\.'lmt. ha.or, sh~ been a--hidiu f'rom ,nc.~?,: Said, "Yeah, hi1.'s a-talkin, bedad, hit's a-t.alkit~. • Said, "Wh:::.t did it say this time?• Said, "It s.id it was corn whiskr:y-" Spoke ii out timntgli it. 146 TJ.ro11Md hi• wke. Afler h, .,poke hi, 1/(/ic,, . Said, "Yeah. Yr.th. Yeah." Said. "A liulc I hi,:11 a-kc,:pin for ilte kiu-folh when 1.hcy take pneumonia-fever." lie said, "Fetch it oul. Mc and Jad<:s go1. 1.hc 011e111no11ia-fcvcr ri1:h1. !!ml(." [Audie11c:c laughter) And so, 1.hey drunk it. He slllrted drinkin tolerant and was a-ge1.ti11 ~ little 1.00 muc:h. A11d Jac:k k11owed l.o just sup. He said, "I've got to have that thing." Said, "That's all there is to it." And he says, "That'll tell me what my old lady is a-hidin from me when I'm gone. \Vhcu I c:otnc: bad( and fllc wore 0111." Said, "I want-" Said. "I've got to h~ve 1.ha1; Jack said, "I might starve." Said. "Thal.'s where I- 1.h~t keeps my fQQQ. and my drinkin Sl.uff, my whiskey and wine." And said, •1 can's. part from 1ha1 .. • He said, "Now,Jack, I've always been a honorable, dcvcr, hortc~t. rnm1, and I wa11t to sr.ay 1.hat way.• And said, "0011'1. make me kill you. If I can get it done, I've got to have that." Said. "I'm gonna offer you a reasonable price fer it bulifyou won't trade it, I could h11ild 11pa11d kill yo11 anrl 1ake 1.h~t.• lie said) ""h's mint-" He s~itl. "It's ruint me. l'VE COTTO HAVE TIIAT." 147 Jack 'u!d say, "Yeah., I might starve.• Well, directly, he says, "l'll give you a hundred g11ine.a:s." J-.lm", tit!! 11.:n.y it 'l!fn.,· luld, a hundred gv.int' And :1 k1tllllmd guinm:; bn.,k th,m uHJ.s about> fa my time, &r m1 f.rti.'11.d/i:ltlier's, way lke:, culled iJ f11mdmt gui'fl.lUJ.J ,r.;;a1,t u.iJv·at what Ji/iem t/,i :!mi flit don't mean ir was a hw1d1'ed 4o/lo,n G,,,,1,, iftkry 'd u-li.ad a lw.n;J,red dollars t-hry 'd aflew away in a shij>-- in •Hardy Ha1 A.ndJack .,aid, "Now, I just don't know abt,ul lli«t." Well, lte ~ays, "Give me yt>u15.'' He say&, "111 lradc wi1.li you, r n~ckon, for 1he. hund.-e He says, • All 1ighc, the trailr.'s !mike and the smoke's wem up the chimney." [R,,pidly J And al,nul !.hat 1.ime sh.e: said, "My greatgnndfa!her give it to my half-sister, my half-si,lr.:r give it lo my gr:andm•t!le,·, my grandmother give it to my- • my uncle, and my uncle gave it to rm:, and you ain't gonna give that,':!!~·• And he sald, "Your brother-in-Jaw's, und~·s, grandfather's grandma, 148 or whoever it Hl"Y h~ IT'S JACK'S!" AndJnck didn't think. Ami he £ai l:lut said, "You would make m· hn>::ik, wouldn't you, a11d hdp me shoulder it?" He said, "Oh, yeah, I'll he.Ip you shonldet' ic." I le holpedjack shoulder it and he carried it. Come co an old-timey- /.i/u: I,.,,,,[ '""' ill co1tt1lries afte,· l /{01 groom, where they h.and,411g a well. Walled it up with YO£ks. Ha,-d wbor, dug a ""'IL '/1ie way they had to dig 'er,~ and al~ that didn't ha,,e .,ystm, "''''"'· And come to hit. Aud he s:iys, • A·h·h-h." Jack kn,,wed what was in it. He says, • A-h-h-h, this old chest is cracked up considet'able. And the varnish is off of it. And it won't be worth what it would dispose my body co carry it where I live home." An,! he said, "I ,Jon't.wnnt.noh"'ly dse 1.0 have 1.h<>: c,mfourul 1hi11g.• Sai About chat cime, a v, ,ice spoke out. of ic, said, "Oh, pray, dou '1." Said, "Old Man Parson's in het'e." Ami ~aid, "If you won't throw it in the well, l'U stkk you another hundced guineas ouc the keyhol~." Jack said, "BEDAD, HITS A-TALKJN TO MEI" And he got excited where he had that other hundred guineas in his little t'agged pocket and another 'un to go with it. I le go1. r.xdtt':d and L11rnwetl it. off so har,I ao,1 ii. he.avy !ill ii knocked him senseless in there. And he laid about fifteen-to-twenty minutes 149 for his mind a Jac:k wa• so excited with another hundred guitwa,. So he got on in. '\Vill ~uul Tum nnnc iu. And the way lhey'd done him, hcwcutup with a hundred guineas, on<: a-hokJin it in each hand. Rubbed it up under each one's nose. Will's fosl .. And saict "'Jlc:rc, Tom, you imtdl ofit.." Said, "You'uns killed my calf a-purpose. Arul I knowe Tlu:y said. "You :t•lyin." I le saicl, "No, I got two hundred guineas out of my heifer hide." And they said, • Now, shun~?" And he said, "Yeah." So they took 1.hc: hog rifle, went out and shoe hot.h of 1.!11:ir big horse.~ clown. And said, "If you got that, we can get thr·ee lo li•e 0111 of our hms,: liidc,. [Audience laughter] 0111. of 1.lia1. • So 1111:y ,hot ·,~n down, ,kim«:d 'em out, and just took off. t'ixin 'em up to tie 'em to carry 'em on their back ~lood-raw. Wit!, the blood a-nmnin 0111. of 'cut. 150 AnrlJac.k sairl, "Yon bi:ucr let 'em cure." llicy said, •w" rn:ed-wanc that money so fast. And you done got two, and our horses'U bring three, anyway, blood-raw, if you got two hundred out of th;!!." And said, "We've a-goi11g wit!, '<:m wi1J,ou1. c.1m:cl." Jac:k said> "You've a-g<.:U.iu ~ fa...,L"' Said. "I don't believe it'll bring it.• Said~ •'You better let. ,<.:rn ~-,. And so they went on anyhow. And come to the first log cabin and hollered, Willrli And she come out. Auel Tom said, "llowrly. • Sc1jcJ, "Jiow 'hout-" Tom said, "How 'bout spendin the night he1-e?" He was tallier than Will, '/'mnwn.s. Aml slat: says. "I.aw, uu:. No,,c <>f u1y business, a..,ASki11 «1uestions."' But said, "What in the tarnatio11 an: tl1<:m things you'v<: got 011 you'uns's back?" Said, l(A-rurmin b1ornl oul. of it.'" Said, "What is it all about? What are you doing?" Hesaid- said, "We take 'em co sell." And said, • If we can'!. gn three loundr<:d guiuea.,, w<:'rc gomrn throw 'em in throw 'em away." She said, "_Great goodness, you'uns can't stay h<:n:.• Said, "Yo11'1111s 'uld min my beds with that blood all over you." Fli,.,'fi wn..s a.fur em, starti11. Kindly sra,tin to sm,111, you know. Well, they just went 011. Come to th<: sec.mod house and by that time there was a swarm of blow-flies behind 'em, 151 tight up on 'em. I.ighdn on the hides and a-mak.iu that bu1.,:i11 fuss and a-hollerin. And that wo1nan c:ou1c out. And said, "How 'bout spc:nrliu r.hc: night here?" She said, "Law !.!1£, mc:11." Said. "Spc:1111 the night here." Said, "Didn't you'un$ kuow it?" Said, "Blow flies is after-is on you'uns. All o\'t~,· yon . ., And they looked and s<:c:cl 'c:m and ~"id, "Well, we'll go on." Time: I.hey got lo the third house, maggots hacl hatched oul in the hide. [Groans from the audic:11c:c:i From the O)·blow. Auel lcollc:n:d, ancl she seed 'em. Said. "How 'hout .,pc:11di11-• Said,"~~ ,ut:n." Said, "You'uns got maggots in you'uns in tht: hide:." Said, "11iey'll eat yvu'nns np maybe, directly, a-<:arryin ll1em things." llu:yj,,.~t turrn~l an>uu And said, "He's lied to us.· Said, "We'll go back and kill him ifhe is our broll1cr, baby brother. Am.l lake that hundred guineas. Re: a hu11dr,:il gui11eas apiec:e. • Arni said, "l11a1.'II he: purl.y good," said, "for him a-causin us to kill our horses." Well, they got back, caught Jack up, and they said, "Now.Jack, you lied." He saicl. '"No. I dicln·t." He said, "I got two hundred guineas out of my heifer hide." 152 Sairl, "If i,. ha,ln'1. a--been fol' hie, I couldn't a-got it." Said. "] got he Well, chey said, "We gonna drown you-" No, saicl, •we gouua ki11 you." Said, "Which way you rather go~ Urown you or shoot you or hang you?" II,~ ,ays, "Plea,e don't shoot me and hang me-" Said, "Please don't drown me." Said, "Shoot me OI' hang me." Said, "I never did like 10 hi: drown,~!.• Well, chey said, "That's the way we'll get yo11." To maM it luml 011 him, They took him down to a black hole in the river. And their nerve failed. They couldn't throw him in. Tom- W.ill 'uld say, "Tom, you go afl.et' some whiskey to build our nerves up 1.0 thmw him in: Tom s:iid, "No, Will, you go." And they kept arguin. Tiu:y coultl11'1. gel. 1.og<:1her. Will happened to think. He said, "1!.h-h, I'll jus1. roll a log on the end of die I.ow sack to hold him in there, and we'll jusc both go together." And while they was gone to get che whiskey, there come an old sheep herde1· way up on the risin above that black hole of the river. Anti he was a-hcr And he was a-herd.in them sheep thel'e and seed.Jack a-kickin I.hen: in 1ba1.- kickin, and didn'1. knc ,w wltat, it was, an,I lliought he'd seed a g_host or something. 153 Aud he got on hi., all-fours a Ami he: ,;ol close: enough to he could see it pretty good, ancl he .aid, "Hello then.~ or who are you- or wh;it ;ire: you adoing in lhc:1~:?" Aud.Jack said, "Going to Hc:avc:11." [Audience laughter] Hr. .,aid, "Going to Heaven? In 1hat?" Said, "Vcah1 going to 11<::;n•cn." He said, "Oh." He said, "How old arc you?" He said, "I'm twenty-one.• Olo, he. saicl, "Son." He said, "You've got a lot ofg2od life ahead of you." Hr. ~aid, "I'm ninr.cy-three years old. Ready to go." I le: saicl, "It wouldn't he: any chance fol' rue: to !.ml you I' way, would it?" Said, "I been, always been a wicked man." J\nd said, "If I get to Heaven, it'll be to cheat sorud,ody dsc: out of thdrs. [Audience l;iuglotc:l'j Buy it." Jac;k l,c l11:lcl 0111. He said, "Now ljust don't know." I le: said, "111c: two Gabrid,11 be back here in about a hour, I guess." And said, "1 belier mke it if I am young.• Said. "I could gcr. a wicked man afien,.,.rds." I le: says, "Yc:al,." He said. "I come along like that." I-le said, "If l' 154 Well, directly he said, "If you can lnost !ill:-• Said, '"Now, if you could trnst me.• he •aid. "I've got a hundred head of sheep up yander-ninety-nine ewe• aml a buc:k. Ifynu muld believe a old man-• But he said. "Now it'•jusl a hdief." He said, "I'll give you~ lo go i" rny place." Jack held out a little longer. f"ea.1Y!d he might catch 1m llireclly. he say•, "I believe I'll take a chance of going at your age, around a hundred ye:.,rs old. And get the sheep." He said, "Roll tl1e log off quick and get in here." lie •aid. "II. c:onld he them angd,11 pop in any1i11w. • IAmlicm:e laughter-! And he rolled it off. And he was purty \Jig and he tilled tl1t.~ And Jac:k told hirn, he said, "Now, I'll i.eU you one tlung." He said, "You've a little bigger in the sack than I was." Arni he •aid. "You dr,1w your hocly up, Iiule as you can, when you hear the angels." Ami said, • If tJ1cy ~sk you anything," said, "you-don't you talk." Sai,I, "11,ey'II k11ow your voice ain't mine." And m, Will and Tom got hac:k, and they was ready. And got up and they said, "jac:k, do you got anyth.ing you want to tdl us 'fore yon go?" Arni 1he old [eller was in lhere a-thinkin rneaut "go" going to Heaven. Just laid draw,:d up, right •I.ill. Dircx:tly, Will say•. "Tom, he's just give it up." Said, "To go." Sai,I, "We'll just. let him go on." And they tied a hig rock 1.u the tow sack, throw,: Got back home wi1J, the hundred guineas apiece aml w~s out to the-- 155 wa..; out. in the out."irlc: comiu 1.0 the barn. TI1epole, log barn, their dad's log b~m. to do some work up. AnclJack he go1. up tl1ere, and shore enough, he was a uuthful man. There was the ninety-nine ewes and a big buck, male. So Jack got on the male's back au And he got beyond the log barn, and Will aud Tom was there ckanin the l,:,m out, workin. And he hollered, "lky. Will . .),Viii," t 1c said, ''You and Ton1 run out," and said, "help me get my sheep together. TI1ey're gettin away from me." Sa.id, t(Vou'uns is sc.:arin 'em." Will said, "Tom, Jack's ghost is a-hollerin." [Audience laughter] Said, "We: di·ow,wde He hollered in again, said, "Tom, you nin." Tom said, "Will, let's go." Said, "Hit's Jack." Said, "l.:t.'s go gc:t. him au And they got 'em herded in and counted 'em and had got 'cm all. TI1e ninety-nine ewes and a buck. 1119 said, "Jac:k, where'd you get them sheep?" I le said, ''Oh IDl God." I k said, "You know where you put nu:, don't you?" Said, "Yeah." He said, "Why did you g:ieac me?" 156 Said, "Cheated you?" He said. "Yeah. in that tow sac.k hi1.'s hard work to s1..-im to 11ath(:r lk sai,l, "I believe I could a-got out another hundred if you'd a-tbrowr. He said, "Yon just got 111(: a lunuln~d fr:et an,I l- a hundred foet deep is all ( !,'<>I; Said, "Why couldn't you a-made the hole de<1><:i-?" Said, "It's just a hundred feet deep." And said, "I got a sheep for ever foot I went in that water.• Sut lu: said, "l'\ow they've hard to swim and gather th.em in that sack.• Ilr. .,aid, "Timt"s 1hr. hardest job I've ever had in my life." {Audience laughter] Well, tbey studied awhile and .,aid, "Jac.k," he said, "you caused \ls w destroy our horses.• Tr,lk,>,d hwnbk. Said, "Would you hdp us gel us a lnmdn:ol hi:;ul of.,lu-:<:p apic:t'.r. likr. your'n?" lie said, ('Yeah/' sai(l, "go to I.he house:, get you'uns a tow sack." They went and got one apiece an Well, Tom ~ai,I, "Now.Jack, it's the same way with Will." Said, •r know him." He said, "He'll get r.vcr .,he,~p i11 11,c:n~ if hr. po.ssihly c.,111." lie said, "Will, l know him." Totn .-;aid, "Yt~h-" Will said, "l know Tom,Jack." He said, "He'sjust a-guyiu me.• JI,~ sai,I, "Tom's just as bad as I .-:m," lk sai,I, "Ile',l gel. 'em out ifit was a thousand head aud die nearly a--scuin 'em." Said, "He'd want sheep so ba,I wl,c:11 111~ .,cc:il 1.lu:111 down tbe,·r., nol ..,lu~ared. And sell that wool." 157 l>irectly they kept a,guin on it. Ja,J:. says, "Now, Tom." He said, ''L<:1.'s In: n:asonable." Saicl, "Will's the oldest." And said, "1.f:r.'s l<'=l rl1c oldc~t go first." And directly Tom 'i;re.c:d. Jack fixed the sack, put Will in ir, a11cl 1he 1uck tied 10 it. Arni as ir. went clown, him a-clrO\\nin, T(UU caught on a little. I le said, "Jack, what's he a· He said, "God, he's 1.ryiu lo ,._;c:1 a sheep. when you do that." I le: saicl,"I was in there." [Audience laughter] He said, "You've just ahout to die: swimmiu in 1l1at sack." He said, "Oh, gosh." Saicl, "Shove me in there quick." lie said, • I know him, he'll get 'em all." Anti l,e put Tom in. 1lnuwed l,im in. Ile went down. And come back. Had his hu,uln:cl hrnd of sheep and 1wo hundred guineas in money. And tJ,e last time l was dowt1 through ihert 1ouej11ck, J.,.'d i11r.,·eas,d up a-misin t/ie. lambs IIJ a thou.sand head ofsfleep. Of them lher'I! real wltile-wooled llleep that I've slu:aml. Boys, tl,ey was pttrly. (Duration: 38 minutes, 57 seconds) A present ,·eality which reverberates throughout Ray Hicks's timeless Jack Tales is the theme ofthe performer's personal well-being. During the early years of his adulthood, Hicks recalls traveling from home to home telling tales to children, a memory with which he introduces ~The Heifer Hide.• These oldtime storytelling sessions were evidently quite lengthy, 158 with eight to ten Jack Talcs on an evening's hill. Eventually his perfor mances were shortened by poor health. Given Ray Hicks's penchant for merging his life experiences into his tale telling, it is inevitable that the sm!c of his constir.u The folkrale's finishing frame is qualified by the specifics of Hicks's bout with sickness and solitude, which even kept him away from Jack. In the same way, Hicks imroduc.cs his rendition of "The Heifer Hide" with mention of his broken hody. Juxtaposed with his mecanarrative com ments concerning suffedng and symbolic death, Hicks's narratives con cerning Jack's life and good fortune represent a kind of resurrection. There is a sense of triumph in the fact that, despite his troubles, Hicks is nevertheless still able to say, "And I'll tell you one more now." Perhaps it is no coincidence that Eliade identifies sickness as an initiation ritual which marks the shaman for his vocation: "more or less pathological sicknesses, dreams, and ecstades are, as we lrnvc seen, so many means of reaching the condition of shaman. Sometimes these singular experience signify no more than a 'choice' from above and merely prepare the candidate for new revelations. But usually sicknesses, dreams, .ind ecstacies in dicmsdvc.s consti!U(e an initi.ition; !h.it is, !hey transform the profane, prc·'choice' individual into a tcch11icia.i1 of !he sacred" (33). Hicks's !dling of "The Heifer Hide" is replete with me!an.irration, ~those devices that index or comment on the nan-ative itself" (Bm11n.111 98). The storyteller presents a running gloss.iry throughout this talc, offering clarification and personal application. For instance, he begins his narrative by telling that the boys' far.her "give" Will and Tom a "big fine lookin horse apiece to gee 'cm to elem· ncwground good," ,ind !hen he changes the verb to "gave." Such a vacillation e,;dently requires an explanation from the teller who has vowed to tell his tale "the old way." lkcxplains, "Theycallcdit 'giv.e'backthen,atthattime. That 'gave'word was just tc.ichcd lo us when we-when 1 went to school. Changed, a new word.• llaving concluded that the past tense of"give" was a "new word" educators had "stM·tcd up," rndier than a time shift in the same verb, Hicks resolves to abide by his forefather's tc.iching. He continues his story v.ith the assertion that the hoy's father only "givej.ick a little old lousy heifer calf." 159 Bauman observes that mctanarn,tivc glos~es such as Hicks's gram mar lesson represent "shifts out of narrative time-the recounting of narrative events relating to what is purportedly past experienr.e--t.o refer to ( the teller] or the audience as parlicip:mts in the present storytelling event; that is, they are the overtly and cxplicidy social interactional elemenls of [the) discourse" (99). Statements of this sort "have the effect ofbridging the gap between the narmted event and the storytelling event by reaching out phatkally to the au 160 Such a careful n,ey didn'1 use none 1.0 ba1h in. When they went. 1.0 bath, they hit the creek. Now that.'s the: way lhc:y livccl hack then. I've washed my clot.lies in the creek, stockins and all, and wting •t:n) om prcuy goocl a.u,1 put 'cnl hac:k cm aru1 chy 'cin as I wem with my body. Feels good. That's the healthiest. washin you got, is get. 1.0 the$e cold c:reeks, lm,nd,es. In talc after t.'\lc, much of the storyteller's attention focuses upon the nece$sities of life, such as the avnilability of wnter. Hicks's narratives highlight equally die visceral, physical needs of the human animal, such as the body's thirst and deanlincs$, which arc met by such an essential natural resource as a ~cold creek." Yet wnter is not the only liquid refreshment described in "The Heifer Hicle." During the scene in which the unfaithful wife and her suitol"imbibe ~pure conl whiskey" and dance around the table, Hicks intel"rupts the narrative lo slmrc some of his own experiences with alcoholic bevemges. A111l I've 161 Hit's not likt: this l1luc-l11:adcd •tnff that'll shoot. to your lwacl and nm you crazy. You feel belier after it's out of you than you did when you dtunk it. I leals your intestines. Cood meclidne. TI1e story!eller approves of the medicinal properties of home-brew, provided that one "not !ry to overdo it." L'\ter in the story, when these drinks are revealed (O !he cuckolded husband, Hicks notes that "He start.eddrinkin tolerant and wasa-geninaliule !oomuch." lnfac1, the mix. ofalcohol and envy makes the once "clever" man threa(en (O murderJack for ownership of 1he heifer hide. Jack, however, "knowed (O just sup." Hicks, in a moralistic mood, obviously approves ofJack's sobriety in his business transaction with the inebriated husband. Warning tha! moon shine has "fourteen fights to the pint," Hicks is an advocate for modera tion, an attitude which has been shaped, perhaps, by a family tragedy. Let.ters from Rena Hicks published in Traditional American Folk Songs Jrmn the Anne and Frank Wanzer Colleclitm indicate that. Nathan Hicks had a drinking problem which, combined with depression, led to his suicide (193-4). In addition to i!s compendium of asides and elaborations, Hicks's metanarrative is also noteworthy for its naturalistic detail. For example, perhaps because he is unsure of his listeners' knowledge of livestock, Hicks offers a lengthy aside describingJack's lousy heifer and the grubs in its back. I've m~shed 'em out of'em. II nearly kills 'em. Grow• a hig grub in thdr back., :ind eals a hole through wheu they get grown. Co out and make something else, an 162 And hio. don\ mean it was a hundred dollars. Gosh, if they'd ahul" hurnlred dollars 1.hcy',I a-flew away in a ship- it• •mmly Jfardbead." [Audience laughter] If they'd a-ever seed ~ lnmcln~I dolla~ ~•. 1.ha1. tinu: together. Gc. TI1e storyteller's allusion to his previous telling of"Hardy Hardhcad" is a good example of what Classie means when he writes that stories provide contexts for each other ( 178). Here is a reverberation between the audience's collective memory of Hick.s's pe1fonnancc of "Hardy Hard head" and Hicks's poim about the worth of money in "The Heifer Hide." Hicks concludes his telling of"The Heifer Hide" with a trnditional frame: "And the last time I was down through there to see Jack, he'd increased up a-raisin the lambs to a thousand head ofsheep. Ofthem real white-wooled sheep that I've sheared. Boys, they wa.< purty." 11,en, as he so often docs in performance, the storyteller continues with an account from his own past which parallels events in the narrative he has just completed. The wool was that long on the black-faced sheep !liat my mother and dad kept here, and I've sheared 'em when I was a little boy. Starle I've got 'em in here now. An antique. TI1c old dippin shcq,shears. Such segues give Hick.s's Jack Talcs an emergent quality which is different from thatof other regional tellers. While both .Marshall Ward and Stanley Hicks provided more of a sense of closure, finishing their talcs with a repetition ofthe title or with a break into laughter, Ray Hicks blends back into the continuing saga ofhis own life. His monologue runs on without an invitation for comment or for a tale to be told in reply. Focus simply shifts from Jack co Ray. The narrative's hero has two names but one origin-the shaman's memory of his own life and lore. "The Heifer Hide" was the second and last t.'l!c Hicks had offered to tell during our aftemoon collecting session because, as he explained, "t can't stand it like I used to did-to tell 'cm.~ However, a third talc, "Jack and the Varmints," was elicited by the arrival of a wannly welcomed visit.or, a neighbor named Charlie. For the benefit of his odginal coterie, 163 Hicks explained that Charlie "run a little old-just a liule grocery store, Eke used to set in, you know, when you set and tell tall tales.~ It quickly bec.uue obvious that Hicks w~ no longer too tired to share more stories. 11,e ensuing tale aboutjack u-aining the k.inga "ridey-horse" emerged out of Hicks's conversation with Charlie. I don't reckon- Did I cv,:i· tdl hit down ~t your stun:? Yeah, yeah, that's the one I told, '"'·asn'1. it., so much, was t.he uuicom, wasn't it? Wild hoar and the- Ycah. All liked it so good. [Ray and Charlie laugh together.] Me and Charlie 'uld laugh. Hicks's rendition of ".Ja('.k and the Varmints" followed the friends' reminiscence, "being Charlie's here to listen at it." Thus, the changing context d1-anmtically affected the performance event, prolonging I lick.s's telling anddetennining his next storyselection. He told this tale featuring Jack's fear with relish, noting that "the lion is what makes it so good." [n this tale,Jack survives his most dangerous test against the lion and saves face with the king by relying upon both the kinetic energy generated by his ad,·enal gland and the quick quip born of his nimble brain. The storyteller, too, must submerge his own body and mind into this perfor mance in order to foster such an empathic "sense ofthe other~ where the chamcter of the cowardly, but cunning,Jack is concerned. Jack and the Vannints The King of the country- 1l1e way 11,cy h~d ii. i11 ii, 1he King•- A wild ho~,· had got in tit<, 1:0111111uni1.y of du: people an,I had- an,1 witl, them big long tushes had killed a lot of people, And the King had got on to him for chi: orders 10 get shet of ii. A111I l,c'cl onlcre 164 Killed arou11d a hu11dred men in tlie kingdou1s of the rnonu1.ains. Ancl so 1.hcy'd give itup, kindly. And.J~c.k h~ Him and his mama had got up agin' it for food villks. .. Viii/es• 1,,a.s //,,: Mme of.food Ihm. Vittles. And he kepi l.teggin her, he said, "l believe l c•11 go m•yhe (irul some1.lii11g 10 do somewhere and get us some vittles to cat. l'ood." She said, "!just don't know." Said, •1 need you." And direclly he got her up a good bunch of stovewood .:hopp<: She lei him go. And he took off. An< l 11<: C:OtllC 10 a little old haul-road where somebody been had been a-splillin boards with a froe. And- •ncl lu: wa. An ,\ndjust a-walki11, a-wlaistliu, ••lookin al 1he creation of the country he was in. And big timber where lie' 165 Anll wlu:11 lie looked down cl<'K"l{One- he'd hewed out a paddle and cliclu'I. know it. Just a-liewin. Ami hecome- He come to a• - l)n yo1t wa.nl if. in it right the1t, now, tllt way I know it? It '.t a liule 1vugh. yc1t Wtake it. { A~uiumce laughter} 8t1i) 11.mc tin ym1. 1ca1d it iu it? Hull? Wtll, it ai11 't IM bad. Rut some says it's a littlt roisg/1. He come to wl1ere a cow had been, where sltc'cl done her busiuess, and the way it flatters otll on the ground. Thin, )VJ" knuw. A1ul lhv.vu r:om·flit?,fi' of 11u1.nure,. when they M their business yo1t knO'I•~ all tl1t111 ytlb.1°/.ookinKflu,.< it lit all,,,,,,. it. 1hm:d:i1t it. And wltm it d1its d /',HI ,um/ lry it and they a fry ,11 and tlien go back quick. And Jack come to one of them and notic:c,l he had a p,ulcllc. I k cracked down in it wi:.h that pa They was so •p1iclc He was good to get seven. They was so qui,:k an,I you couldn't hit 'em. 1'11f:' l?iP.tl lfl kill ·,.m. ·n,ey fly quick as li/{11ming, da11K 11igh. He killed seven, 166 Went on, a-thinkin in his mind ir he could m,:.:r. up with a ma11 that could tell him where a blacksmith-man was at. Arni fiually he met orn: and he didn't know of nary 'un. Said he was in another seuJcruent. He walked on, U\cl. auut.hc,· 'uu. au Oh, he says, "Yeah." Says, "Righr. ou yaudcr, when you get across that mountain," sai~1 "tight. down ar. the lowc,· end uf tllc holler al. a sf.n:am. uf wa1.c1·, he's got a good 'un, A hlack.~mith-man." Jack thanked him and wenf. 011. Anti he W<:111. l.o the hlack.smith and gut there. Got him to make him a big leather bdt out of cowhide. Put a buckle on it. A111l a hrna And then told him to r.ake them there hon;e-hrads, C.<>pJl<:r-hr·ads, and cramp 'cm around i11 r.hal. kar.h,:r· aud spell his 11a111e: "BlC MAN JACK KIU.EO SEVEN ATA WHACK" Didt1 't Jay what it Wf" Jmt "Big Mat1.faek Kilkd Seven al a Whack.• And he buckled r.har. arountl him and wcur. uu. 1\fcf. m101hcr ,un. Au 167 Aud he said, ".No, work is a scarce 1hing in this settlcmc:11t." He said, "Hit's just 111u111h-to-mouth." Sai And wJ,en yo11- ,Ji,~llly rll explain toy<>u'uns, ijy0tt don't !mow, wJuu pen.tmmrM if)<>U ask me bar.k, 11r I'llf11rget. Salcl. "]'cal. i& in the yard- Peat is i11 tlu: yanl all I.In: 1.imc:. And nearly all 1he other time he's undc:nhc: table.• And said, "/1. third of the time lu:'s 011 !i!ll of it." And, well. he said, "Now, 1he King." he said, "he's got an order out if d1cy's auy man tltal cou1d gel a wild boar and a unicon1." He &aid, "Now 1ha1 job is easy got, if yon think you (:an do hit.'' Wdl, he says, "I'll tl'avd 011 arul sec: if I c.an get to his!"'''""'·" And he traveled on. Cot there. And the King's house, 1he way he had it fixed, lte had a- a screm st,ipped-in porclt anrl that vine they always luul .,·luui£,l it i11 -~" tlti.( .~un touUln 't come in on 'em. l'wt of it ,aa.t yet 111tt in tlte .mn a•id then ify<>11 got too hot, you'd go 1,,,,k ir. ,1,,,.,., in rhe. shml~ of rhnt ,iine. -Oury sfretcl1ed, fixed that, mu/. it K'"'"'"I tlu• 11i11e ,,11 tlmm1(1, where they liad itfi-wd. Anrl Jack gor. ,.he.re: anrl holle.re.rl in the: yard. And the K.ing was a•sellin in thal shade of urn: c:ml of lh<: I• m:h. It was hot. And lu: saicl, "( l<:llo. then:." Arnl the King saicl. "Come 011 in and exp1'1in yourself. Give an accoum of yourself and who you are." 168 He went. on in> got on his bench, another bench out from where he was set.tin on his'n. !fr says, "I'm a•lookin for work." And oldJack went to lightin Thc King lit up his pipe, 101,ac:cc>) and.Jack got his'n out and lit his'n up. Ami Iii. ii, mul the smokt,- the smoke ringin up out of it. And Jack puffed a few puffs, and he said, "I'm a-lookin fo,· wotk." Sa.id, "Mc a11d my 1110111<:r's without anything to ~-- W di, he s;iys, "Would you be a good hand, you reckon, to kill a wild lioar thal.'s ,lorn: killccl a huruln,I 111c11?" Jack 111: hdd it down all he could but it scared him so that he d.-opped his pipe on 1}11, lloor of I.lit: porc:h. Reached down and got it. He said, "Yeah, I guess I won!tl suit you." lie sai,I, "Yon loo small, l believe, for this job." Jackjust- Said, "l believe you too small." Wdl,Jack says. "We-1•1, if you feel that way about it." I le: s:t.i,I, "I don't think the small would make no difference a-gectin the wild hoar.• Aud he said, "ljust don't believe I want to accept you." Said, "You wouldn't live fiw minuh:s when I lc:t you off rny horse in that moumain." AnclJac:kjusl sw·r.ccl on off through 1he yard ~rnl tl,ar. fumed his back. and he seed it. 169 Said, "HOLD J.T A MINUTE. HOLD IT A MlNUTI!.." Sa:d, '[fold i: a minute." And 1.he King read it ovc:r, ~ai,l, "!1--i-g. BIG-. M-a-o, MAN--- K-i.,1ouble-l-e-d, KILLF.D-- S-e-v-e-n, Sk:V g~, .a~, AT, W-h-a<:-k, Wfil~K." l k said, ''I\e: Wdl, he said. "l wa.~ 3hout r.. , run off thc: v,~1-v man I've b,.~,~n J!•nc:c:din no do\;bt." · Called him back in. Ancl Jad, alway~-- he is hungry, and he needed his supper. And he fed him a good supper. Ami he said, "Now, get om and we'll go g-et my big horse, and I'll get you on it, and I'll 1ake you to 1he moumain where they said tliat the wild boar 'riginally stayed." The King got in L~ere and told Jack, he. said, "Now you slide off." S~ic.t the: l(i"Y, w~sj11,1. a-t1C:111hli11, a-hold of the rdns, bridle reins. Shakin, and the horse a-rea.rin. He smelt ,he wild boar. .And- a horse om smell c.nytJ,ing liJ.11 1iiai. Ancl J:u:k ,lid off. 170 The Kingj11s1 wliippol 1.!1<: horn,, a-n:ari11 to gel. back om of there. The dirt arul tire mck a-scrutchin under the hooves. AndJac.k looked around a liule, and Ire said, "Roys, I'm a fool." He said. "'llris belt ain't gonna take care of me, I don't believe." Said, "Tiu, way he whipped 1ha1 horse." He said, "l bener slip out of hen: ifl <;an, riglr1. now, and not lei hit smell me." He 'gin lo slip. Directly, he heared the racke1 of a wild boar. 1\ 11d 1fiey said it /,ad tushes our ofeach side ef its mouth a oldoue- was 11,arlo~ that they swayed wit!, roil.Ji thdr he:nd. And hit got up on him and was a-slingin its head and Jack 'uld dodge '},ind lrees. ,hut Sllid l,i1 nu rrn,c!,es in rues 1l1a1 deep wh.r.n it ad its h.r.ad th.mu~. with thr.m hUIU'..~. Knocked the wood out anrl the bark. Hewed trenches two inches deep wil.lt cad, 111sl1. And Jack knowed if one of them hit him, it'd cut him in two. Tiral's 1J1e way lre'd killed the men, with 1.hcm tushes. He took off a-1-unnin. Anrl the lrog after l,im. And he got 10 a field and dowu in lhe l>ollom was a little waste log cabin with the ,·oof ,·ou.,xl off, rlecayed off of it, rol1<:d off. And he was w~-QU- Anrl tl,e wild hoar was just, say, agin' him. And he was just enough ahead of it TO whe.n he. hi1. 1.he. cahin wall of the log, 1.ha1. wa.< sl>urdin yet, an 171 Ancl t.ftc hog wa.~ !Ito do~c on hilo it bit off the end of, the comer of his coat1ail, Jerked it off :t.~ he wen! up. Ancl he: set. up thc:re i11 I.he mi,ldl<: of them, a-straddle of chem logs, and the hog couldn't. n:ad, him. And hit went around and went in at the doorway in 1he inside. Had it in the pen. And Jack seed what it done and he riskeded ii. And jumpi,l ,!own right qui.:k ancl 1'1111 around and set the door up and propped it with pieces of timber, i.,<00d. Ancl thm Clll. him a biK long switch and retched- dumb back up on 1he logs and rekhed over aml whupi>ed it to see if he could get out of there. 1\ •ul said the surg, nf if. """ f.r.arin ,1,,. log, apart. And said he said, "Bedad, I better quit and let the King know that I've got it." And so he went in, gut. then\ and the King said, "Did you see :mything thc,re lasr-• lie said, "Huh." Said, "I was spec1in to see sometliing 1.0 liave a light with." And he said, "Hit come up on me, and me and !iii. got l.o playin, like I always did with the animals." And said, "Hi1 go! a Iii.tie m:ul dins:tly, and bit off the corner of my coan,,il." Said. "I took ii by 1111: I.ail and 1.hc: cars and socked it in a little log huiklin up 1.h~r~. Shel ii up." Ami hi: said, "If that puny-look.in thing is killed a hundred men-" Said, "1l1al little old thing, I picked it up by the tail and ea,s and sockcxl it. i11 a lit.tic old log hnildin up 1.hc:re and propped it.• Said, "You can go see." 172 And 1he King ordered up lif-..y men. with a hog rillc. Went and nary oneofche men couldn't- a-cremhliu so I.hey c.ould.n'c even gee enough nerve co shoot through the c1ac:k 10 shoot. it with the hog rifle. Jack ~ays, "Let me have 1.ha1. gun." Said, "l...c1. me have it." And Jack cook, just l.o random. He didn't sight with 1he gun. Hc:jus1. oome up, "Ker-powl" And the: hog fell, a-kickin a-going out. Tore 1hac whole buildin down. [L.~ugh1er] And they cleaned it up and made eight wagou-lcmtls of meal .. [l.auglncr] Made eight wagon-loads. Well, he: wa, w give: him three hundred guineas for gettin the hog. And he paid him, ancl he said, "F.-hh, I hate co do it." He said, "It came in word y<:st<:1-Jay <:v<:11iu there's a unicom up iu there tloiug !ors of damage." And said, "l'll- I'll just hire ye l.o get. hit while you 're hc:n:." And/a.ck was 1/1inkin w get <>tit ".fit, bu1 he u,uldn 't l,ack (m 1. Ile says, "Okay." The King got him 011 1.he horse, m:111. up there and got in there and 1.oltl Jack to slide oil And he beat the horse worser sec:metl like: to get. him to g<:1 him lr.. d: '""· of there and leave Jack. 173 And jack says, "Now, I just lucked ou1. on 1hc hog.• A,uls;tlcl, "Me with three hundred guineas in 111y little rngged pocket, I've gQ.t. to slip out from thal. unkoro.• n,1 had a spike•lwm •ight infmnt nf tl,eir Jo,~head and just sock it 1lm,ugh a Ire,. B1JTe it tJ,muglL, about that long. And Jiu.le while atter he left him, he. 'giro 1.0 sl.ir arnu11d a little, and 1he unicom smelled him. And here it come with I.hat then: big horn on its forehead, a,swingin al him. Arn!Ju:k got behind a hig whil.t: oak 1ree, aslodgin 1his a-way and that as it coane around hirn, a-gettirr 1hc: uuic:orn ,li,.1.ed. And it'd fake. Jack 'uld dodge. arnl ii. '111 And directly he go1 Ilic unicorn dizzed up and hit made a lunge and made a mis-go and socked cha1. hom plumb 1hrough that white oak tree. i\nd wedged i1.. Arni c:ouldn't gc:1. loosc. 1\111l],uk alway., ,ame,l .,tuff ;,. l,i,; f>0dut.s. ]mt pir.k 1tp e,iertl.it1g tlnd .,Iliff 'em in 1/ur,. It'll alw(J,y.,· r.ome in 1,amly. And he had some i;p.i.kes in his pocket. Ami he: pic:kerl up a rnc:k and drove them a.round the horn on the other side. Titcrc was C.lrn.1. u1uch !d.it:kira out. of the tree and hit \\'as t(,u,· fool. through. The white oak was. And 1.hcn: wa, alioul. 1.lia1. much of 1.hc horn on the other side of the tree come dtrough. And he wedged ii on that side with them spikes }1<; !,ad in his prn:kct. Then cut a switch to see if it was a-holdin. 174 He said, "Bedad, I beuec qoil. It's ahout to grub che ll'ee up and go with ltl1." Ht: said, "Cod, I beccer be qoiec with it." Saki, "h's gonna get aw·.iy with tJte 1ree on iL< drag it off and gn away." Said, "I'll just ht: quie:1. and let the King know.• And got •here. The King said, "Did ye find rut?" He said, "_Qhh, Cod." Ht: said, "l'Rl a-ge:uin fooled t:ve.n..imt:." lit: said, "I go1. up che:re and tht:y was a little. old horst:, wh of a lookin thing," he said, "had a big spear spikin in its forehe.ad. • And said, "Me and hie goc co playin a game.." And sairl, "Hit si1~<1 at mt: wir.h it and swipt:rl hy and hon mt: a little. «nd m ..rle: me: fly-01f " littlt: hi1.." And said, "I picked ic up near the cail and ears and socked che whole spike: chmugh a while oak tree four foot through. And wedged it." Said, "You can go up 1.ht:re and set: if hi1.'s hit if you wane co." An And Jack says, "Let me have che gun.• And lhcy Sil id when ]ad, shol that 11,ai tki'lg was w big, a-kickin a-going out, lill Iii! bu.,~,l t}.,,J cm, llnd grul,1,e,l it. Tunud ii u/1, a- And so 1he.y- 1.he King ordered 'em 10 skin it out and save che hide to cure i1, 10 show 10 everbody in 1J1e comRlunity. And paid Jack the oche.r 1.hn:e. hun,lre,I guint:as and told him it was okay to go home. 175 A11 Aud he'd bccu gone a couple a hours, aud in conlc word that there was a ll9.Q. had got loose, out. And hit was killin people hy ll,e- hy the: 1111nibc:rs. Got iu ~n,uud where they w~ a•havin court, law. A111I llu:y' And the King told 'c:m, he said, "Why co11ltl11'1. you a..:allt:,I a little earlier·?" Said, "The man that got the wild boar and the unicorn, I've done paid him off a11<1 he's h1:ad,~I fer home:.• He said, "Well," he says, "I might get on my l1eu·sc ~ud ovc:rt.'U And tile Kingjumped on that big horse and 1.ook off a·whippin it and caughtJack about three mile away. And hollered, a-\\~Vin hi,; lmt. "HtY! IIEY! WAIT,JACK! \,\,'~it, r\,·e got ntore news fer you. More work!" Aruljac:k he nearly fell, he: scare:;! him so wi1.h the- II, ,u,L< hlllin to g,1 hock in it "gain. f 1.aughter/ 811r.- . . l>ut it just lucktd out 1/u,i /., tmtltln '1 Jriv, ttf>. Anrl he heh. up and stuck his liule chest out, and he said, "What is it? Mor·e work?" 176 He said, • A lion got out. And I've got to get you lo get hit.• AtldJa,-,k ,,,,,~I lu: cm,,/il. make a ln-eak. H.: says, "I just don't know whether I could gt:C hit for three hundred guineas or not." He said, "I'd need a liule raic«: 011 a lion." He said, "Now you take a lio'Q-" (Audience laugh1.er] He said, "A big grnwn lion k -• a wild hog and a unicorn is nochin to chat." Wdl, the King says, "I'll give you four hundred guineas." That 11UUle a lhntua,ut. A thousa,ul g11 inea.s. "If you'll go back," said, "I'll give you a hundred raise." Jack says. •1 reckon I "ill then." And he got on the horse and rode back. TI1ey cat ~upper. And- hc: took.Jack up in there:. And the King. he said when lie slid off thal I,,, .,h,,,.,. 111as """'f>!J.\ a-whuppin thal ho1lt to get out of 1ha1 mou11tain. And he said he. walked around the.re, and he fdt ofthat six hundred guineas, and he said, "Now I h,.,Jn't- l've played-• He said, "l might a-lived to got to spend hiL And I've lt:t down now anti w.:m hack in for ano1.h,~· four." And said,"[ won't get to live to spend none, I don't guess, with the lion." Ami hit smelled him. Atid they .,aid when llit arme Iii! war,~/ .,o hard Jaclt .,aul it roa,.,.d -'" hard, and the olher people that ktwwed ii, t/l(ll. it staned big m:k a-rollin, ju'IT&i 'em /()()St, t/Ull. woulil. wr.igh lwo or th,~e hundred pound. offof IMJ rough c=J-on mountain. 177 And the ru, r;rub., uumld shake whm it w1>1tld •-oar with its wic,, so rough and luau,, roouM ITtmbU tl,e lrte limb5. l\tutJar.k said hi• feel would jump, 1r1011/d bttmp on the ground And he said whm J,i., fa.t gin lo dt, that that he k nowed it was so,net}1 ing ,,. b, done {laughter] ifJ,, ii,,,,L to get ,to spmd the money. Ifhe liued, ii was .mm.tl/,ing he'd lmue ti> flfil"'e out. And so, he-- Lion got on him close. He took off a-runnin. whippi1.y..:u1.. And it got so close on him. Jac.k was a good climber·. Ca1.1.y like: a '"luirrd. And he had a little old pair of shoes on "nd his climb.in was always barefooted. I lis toes was lh>lt long he's dumb so much, Io hook iu lh<: bark. J 't"- s,,,d bnys climb. l't,e seed 'em climb with iJ,eir lne.r I 11ever c1>ttld do it- climb rues with nor a limb nn il ]11.st h-Ofd with their hands, walk up it with lluir 10,.,. Nol a limb, bmnch, about it. Go in to tlte top and get d1estmtts. And so, Jack c.ome ,., a hig a. Ash 1ree w:-1.saround four or five m• six feet 1hrnugh. And hejust walkc: 178 And hit was so big till the lion went lo b"'awin ii. down 1.0 g1:l J,im. like that other. Said ,vhr.n that li,m 1,/,l g,,11,111 thlll /r,r. with th, p-r,.mt1·, 11}()1tl,/ j,rk him, up in i~ wi1J1 the big slabs aflyin 0111 of it. A nil they'd whiz ot1t through the W()()ds lilt.I lightnin 11HmJd throw. muk. And .,plinim ,,-c,acki11. 1\nd j,,,k :, /u,11,rt, It~ .<1Ji1l, wa., ll•bmtin ,,11 up in hit J,-ml llnd nuk. Trtmblin, 11,1,d hit },-mt tlmmpin. Like J've /,ad minP. to di>, scared in lit_,. fl}()lllfs, 111/tm 1 1111« " /itt/r. bny and on 11p afte,· 1 got gl'01un. And so, the lion gave out in its jawbones aboul the time it got it two-thirds gnawed down. Il wa.< a•givin a liu.Je. And laid do"~l, went off l.o ~k•l), so nigh give out. Ami Jack said in his mind, he said, "Now if I And he 'gin to slip down, u-emblin and scared. till l,c got excited a liltle in his mind and got his fool 011 a brick of limb, a knol. !hat was 0111 and had rot. decayed loose in th<: 1.r<:i:. Ami got his foot on it, slippin. and hit lm,ke and give ltim a slide. And he just slid dowu and hit on the lion's b~g,. 179 Arni whc:n he hit. tlte lion'• back, that scared hit, with him 011 hits hack, and hit raised up and took off a-rnnnin with Jack on its back. And he just clinched in its fur and stayed on. He was a good rider. [Audience laughterJ And stayed on it and tlic lion wok him through by tlte t:ourthouse. And jack on it. And the men there- men there,- They ordered the King and tl1e men got tltere 'fore he did. And got aim on it to try to save Jack. And li11ally one: got" head and shot and killed it. It wa., just goiug so fast and Jack on it.. lt throwc:d J,tek and stoved his shoulder up in the mud, it was going so fast. And stove it up. Nearly broke his shoulder. And the mud on him. While Jack was a-gettin up, a-lm,shin, the King had got tl1ere. And he said, "King." I le saM, "Oh. my Goel." He said, "Your men has played." He said, "l'layed what?" He said, "I had that lion-" Bn,shin mud, yet, and dust off hi~ clotlics. Said, "I I IAD TI IAT LION TRAINED FOR YOU A RIDt:Y-HORSE.• [Audience laughter] And said, "You'd a-looked big a-cidin arou11d a-s,x:in about. your people on a lion." Anet said, "Your men has up and lw!ed it." And said, "l didn't. have no d1ancc: 1.0 1.dl 'cm, I.hr. lion ~oing that way." And the King said, "Men," he ~aid, '"I h~•.c to do i, .. " 180 But he said, "I would a.•looked big, lil<.e Jack said, and now you've got to make him up another five hundred guinea.~ for killin my ridey•h'orse.ft (Audience laughter I And that made Jadr. fifteen hundred guineas. And he went hack home. And said him and his tTl()the.- liwd good for a wltik. Thats why they call him Lucky Jack. (Duration; 27 minutes, 25 seconds) Hicks's performance of "Jack and the Varmintsft reverberates be tween two contexts-the present reality of the teller's audience gathered on his front po1-ch and the past remembrances of tellings once shared in Charlie's country store. As a performer, Hicks tends to drop his eyes down or even to close chem altogether, looking directly at his listeners only when he wishes co make a point or to key their laughter. Hicks usually holds his own laughter until after his audience catches thejoke and then hejoins in, again shutting his eyes as amusement shakes his tall frame. In "Jack and the Varmintst neither Ray nor Charlie looked at one another during the pe1fo1mance. Both men looked down and inward as this story from an era which for each of them is now only a memory was again recreated, couching off depths of associations completely different from those of the trio of eager folklorists who were also privy to the pe1for mance. The sense ofsuch a performance feature is that Hicks's inner eye sees a drama unfolding which he then reports back to his hearers. [1 is not, ironically, the somnambulistic storyteller who is blind but his wide-eyed spectators. Through Hicks's visions, his listeners' eyes are opened to the doings of a boy named Jack. Eliade has described this visionary flight of the shaman: "The shaman's essential role in the defense of the psychic integrity of the community depends above all on this: men are sure that one ofthem is able to help tl1em in the critical circumstances produced by the inhabitants of the invisible world. [c is consoling and comforting co know that a member of the community is able to see what is hidden and invisible to the rest and to bring bad: directand reliable information from the supernatural world" (509). Occasionally,Jacl:'s doings may be "a little rough." TI1e scoryceller is sensitive to naturalistic details which, while delighting men at Charlie's store, might be less appropriate for the two women in his audience. Hicks stops his story for a quick check to see what version is preferred. Having offe.-ed the warning that "some say it's a liccle rough," Hicks continues his tale "the way l know it.ft Whereas Chase indicates thacjack came toa mud puddle, Hicks tells how Jack came co cow manure covered with yellow flies. Ray Hicks has received enough pe1formance feedback in different contexts to know when narrative code-switching should be considered. 181 In addition to Hicks's usual metanarmtive asidl·S, thnc ;,re textural nuances which give ~Jack an And.J;u:k'~ 1,cmt. he said, was a-beatin all up in his hl-ad and neck. T,·~11l,U11, and his heart thu mpin. Like I've had mine to It is as if Hicks does not wish to h,we his veracity doubted. These adventnn·s arc rrue. forJack himselfaffirmed as much to the sto11'tdler. Jack's a 182 say, 'I'll make it.' LikeJack was with a-get.tin the boar and the unic.orn and the lion. I was scared, but I've got to say, 'Eh, I'm just think in something maybe, that'll never happen to me."' The emotio11 offear and its effect on the borly become the nominal subject in both the Jack Talc and the Ray Tale which followed. Together, these cwin talcs echo die shaman's message I.hat. courage is not based on the absence of fear but is instead based on the presence of fear that has been faced and overcome. As the afternoon was winding down, Hicks, now in a mellow mood, meditated upon the greed as well as chc generosity that arc both aspects of the human condition. Auel, you kuo,"'', to get dowu 011 t.hc pl'iudplc.~ of it now, of our teachin of the history, our· l loly Rible says all we was promised was bread and water. Was promisoo from the I leavenly Father. This other's just extra we get. But a lot of times, you know, to get on it now I go back to that when I talk. Wl,c.11 we g,~1. on ii," lot of l.imcs we a.,k for 1.00 mud, food from our Cod. Get carried away. Ain't thankful enough for what we've got. And our clothes. You know, a deep he;,rt- I've lived through it and other people has, pleu1.y evcn... hcrc: 111 t '1c c:ouut.ry- has been deep-hearted people is what canied it out. And I'll say it's whal's a-(:anyin il om loclay is we've got some deep-hearted peopk yeL That means clever, williug to hdp. through humanity of people. But lhc best people that is is who don't feel better than another 'un. I've always felt that my pain was just like you'uns's a.ncl you'uns's was just like mine. Clever, deep-heart.ed Ray Hicks reveals his personal c:odc in such an observation. In the simple slat.emenc, "I've always felt that my pain w;isjust like you'uns's and you'uns's was just like mine," Hicks art.iculates an Appalachian equivalent of Wallace Bacon's "Sense of the Other" philoso phy which h.tS cha11ecl the course for the humanist.ic discipline variously known as lnte1p1·ctation and Performance Studies during recent de c.ades. In his folk epics, Ray Hicks and his verbal creation.Jack, share a deep sense ofeach other. Ac the same time,Jack represents Everyman, a 183 figure prone to the same fear and folly and good fortune as is all of mankind. Conclusion This case study has examined the perfonnance paradigm ofshaman istic storyteller Ray Hicks of Beech Mountain. Examples of how Hicks interjects his own autobiography into the Jack Tales are seen in his privately owned composition 'Jack and Ray's Hunting Trip," as well a.~ in 1hree traditional tale.s---"Hardy Hardhead," "The Heifer Hide,w and jack and the Varmints"-inherited by word-of-mouth from his ancestors. Throughout all ofthese tales, the performer merges his own persona into that ofJack, sharing the trickster's thoughts and embodyinghis emotions. Hicks's stories emerge out ofa monologue about his life, and then, once theJack Tale has been told, the teller blends back into his own saga once llgain. Such a double perspeccive of metanarrativc and narrative fosters a sense of dialogue--a conversation lii!h the storyteller about his tale. These empathic stories, when properly ministered by a folk healer such as Ray Hicks, a man marked for the shaman's calling, have the power to revive and rejuvenate. "And so, like 1 told you," Hicks explains, Mthat tale goes from one another, if you've got in the ~pirit of it, is from heart to heart. A-feelin of that spirit that's in it. Of the feelin of the tale." Hicks believes that the "spirit" inherent in these ancientjackTales has the power to "case the heart.~ Hicks's folk aesthetic is a reflection of his work as a wildcrafter, an herbalist who hunts native barks, roots, leaves, and berries in order to release their curative powers. Stories possess similar medicinal properties which can be called forth by the skilled shamanistic teller, who closes his eyes to this world in order that he may better see into the other world. By inducing this trnnce-like state, the storyteller is able to commune with spirits inhabiting another sphere-the realm ofJack - and then to share this vision with his listeners. These dream-like tales are long, su~jcctive panoramas which enter into the consciousness ofthe hero. 'This mat.r.hing ofthe storyteller's selfwith his narrative alteT ego is so complete that Hicks even affirms: "I'mjack. I've been Jack. I'mJack right now." Richard Bauman in Story, Performance, and EVfflt has observed that "the student of oral literature, no less than the scholar of written literature, confronts individual folk poets and unique works of literary creation, worthy of critical attention as such, as artists and works of art" (S-9). My premise is that Ray Hicks is just such a folk poet. His artistry as manifest in four Jack Tales created through performance has been explored in the preceding pages. Hicks is obviously pleased to have his cultural authority and expertise recorded for posterity. Yet, he also believes that the value ofhis folk art lies not in the tales, but in the telling. 184 Works Cited Aame, Antti, and Stith Thompson. The Types of the Folktale. Folklore Fellows Communications 184. Helsinki: Academia Scientiarum Fennica, 1961. Babcock, B;u-bara. "The Story in the Story: Metanarrative in Folk NaxTative. • Veroal Art as Perfonnance. Ed. Richard Bauman. Pros pect Heights, IL: Waveland, 1984. 61-79. Bacon, Wallace. • A Sense ofBeing: Interpretation and the Humanities." Southern Speech Communication Journal 41 (1976): 135-41. Bakhtin, Mikhail. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays by M. M. Bakhtin. Ed. Michael Holquist. Trans. Caryl Emerson and Michael Holquist. Austin: U of Texas P, 1981. Bauman, Richard. Story, Performance and Event: Contextual Studies iti Oral Namuive. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1986. __. "Verbal Art as Pe1formance." American Anthropologist 77 ( 1975): 290.3ll. Burke, Kenneth. "Literature as Equipment for Living." The Philosophy cf Li/nary Form.. New York: Vintage, 1957. Rpt. in Critical Theory since Plato. Ed. Hazard Adams. New York: Harcourt, 1971. 14347. Chase, Richard. TM jack Tales. Boston: Houghton, 1943. Conquergood, Dwight. "Between Experience and Meaning: Perfor mance as a Paradigln for Meaningful Action." Renewal and Revision: The Future of lnterpretatitm. Ed. Ted Colson. Denton, TX: NB Omega, 1986. 26-59. __. "Perfo1ming as a Moral Act: Ethical Dimensions of the Ethnogra phy of Performance." I.immure in Performance 5.2 (1985): 1-13. Eliade, Mircea. Shamanism: Archaic Techniques ofEcstasy. Trans. Willard R. Tra~I::.. New York: Bollenger, 1964. Fine, Elizabeth, andJean Haskell Speer."A New Look at Performance." Communicatiim Monographs 44 ( 1977): 374-89. Classie, Hemy. PllSSing the Ti,~ in Ballymmom: Culture and History ofan Ulster Community. Philadelphia: U of Penn~ylvania P, 1982. 185 Halpert, Her b<:rt. Appendix and Parallds. Th~ ,lack Tak.,. Boston: Houghton, 1943. 183200. Langdlier, Kristin M. 4 F'rorr.. Text to Social Context." Literatuw in Pt-iformanct 6 (1986i: 50-70 . .McDcrmitt, B.irbara. "Sto1ylclling ~ml a Boy Named Jack." North Caro lina Fdklorc.Joumal 31 (1983): 3-9. National Heritag1; Felln'fJiships 1983. Washington, DC: National Endow ment for the Arts, J983. Oxford, Cheryl. "Stanley Hicks Telling Jack and The Bull."' North Carolina Folklorejm.tmal 36.2 (1989): 73-120. Paton, Sand)', ed. Ray Hicl1.SofBtech.M()untai11, North Carolina, Telling Four Traditional "j Thomp,on, Stith. The Folktale. New Yo1-k: Dryden, 1946. __ MotiflndexofFolk-Litero.lure: A Classification ofNarrative Elements in F(llf.tale.1, Ballads, Myths, Fabl,;s, and MEdiwal Romances, E.umpla. Fabliaux,.Jest-Book and Local Legends. Rev. ed. 6 vols. Rl.oomington: ln Ward, W. H. "The Literary Unity of Ray Hicks's '.Jack Talcs.' • North Camlina Folklorejourrial 26 (1978): 127.33. Warner, Anne, ed. Traditi William~, Crati.s D. Reco1xl insert. Ray Hicks ef Be.ch Mountain, North Carolina, Telling Fo•;r Tmditfonal jack Tales.• ·Ed. Sandy Paton. Folk-Legacy, Ffi\-14, 1964. 186 Reviews Ans inEamest: North CarolinaFolklife. Edited by Daniel W. Patterson and Charles G. Zug lll. Durham: Duke University Press, 1990. Pp. x+319, introduction, maps and sketches, musical notation, photographs, notes, index. $18.95 paperback. Reviewed by Lynn Moss Sanders. In the introduction to this collection of essays on North Carolina folklife, editors Daniel W. Patterson and Charles G. Zug Ill consider tl1c question that occupies many folklore enthusiasts and scholars when they try to explain their interests and jobs to others: "What is folklore?" The answer lies in the fifteen essays in Ans in Earnest.: North Carolina Follllife written by former students of the Curriculum in Folklore at tlie Univer sity of Norm Carolina at Chapel Hill. This book has a number of strengths. One is the great variety of topics covered in essays that deal with the material culture, narrative lore, and musical traditions of North Carolina. Even those essays based on similar traditions have quite different approaches to the material. For example, two essays discuss North Carolina duck decoys-Stephen Matchak's "The North Carolina Wildfowl Decoy Tradition" and "Wny Do Duck Decoys Have Eycs?n by John Forrest-but while Matchak carefully describes the region.ii hunting practices that gave 1isc to the u-adition, focusing only briefly on decoys as an art form, Forrest concentrates on the aesthetics of duck hunting ,~;th decoys. Laurel Horton explains how the materials, dyes, and patterns of traditional 187 quilts in Rowan County were influenced by the social and cultural status of the makers; Mary Anne McDonald desc1ibC$ an unwual quilt-making tradition among black women in Chatham County. Another strength is the focus on fieldwork, which the editors feel is an important common thread throughout die book. The University of North Carolina'., Cuniculum in Folklore is noted for its success in training excellent fieldworkers; the emphasis on fieldwork in this volume gives a special quality to essays that are dearly based on long-term 1elationships formed between folklot;sts and their informants. Mary Anne McDonald, for example, is well aware of the culture gaps between he1 life and the lives of the black women she interviewed, but it is clear from her informed discussion of funeral-ribbon quilts that her sensitivity enabled her to overcome barrier., between folklori:;it and folk artists. Cecelia Conway's close relationship with banjoist Dink Roberts gave her imporrant insights into the performance context of his music, making her analysis of the multiple levels of meaning in the song fragment she discusses convincing. A real ability to empathize with his informants also distinguishes Douglas DeNatale's essay on occupational lore-MThe Dis sembling Line: fodu~trial Pranks in a North Carolina Textile Mill." One of the most thought-prnvoking essays in the collection, DeNatale's work convincingly demonstrntes that pranks in Southern mills may not he as good-natured as eadier studies seemed to indicate. Although the editors group the essays into sections titled "Of the Past," "Of Individuals," and MOf Communities," they are careful to represent the traditional genres of folk study-folk narrative, folk music. and material culture. The essays on folk music range from thorough analyses of particular traditions--"'I Never Could Play Alone': The Emergence of the New River Valley String Band, 1875-L 915" by Thomas Carter with lhomas Sauber- and particular song texts-MThe Banjo-8ong Genre: A Study of 'High Sheriff,' Oink Roberts's Man-against-the-Law Song• by Cecelia Conway--to discussions offolk music within the larger context of community-"In the Good Old Way: Prinritive Baptist Tradi tion in an Age of Change" by Brett Sutton and "Banjos and Blues,~ Kip Lornell's comparison of music types popular in Cedar Grove and Durham in the 1930s. In addition, banjoist Bill Mansfield lends his musician's ear to a study of the development and musical qualities ofthe Bright-Leaf tobacco auctioneer's chant. Two essays focus on traditional tale-bearers, although Charlotte Paige Gutierrez notes in her study of "The Narrative Style of Marshall Ward,Jack-Tale Teller" that while Ward, a Banner Elk $Choolteacher for thirty years, has ensured the $Utvival of the tradition, he has also changed it substantially to suit his audience. John Porter explores the strikingly complete memory that Asheville resident Harry Chepriss holds of the Greek folk play /'anaretos from his youth. A thil:-d essay on folk narrative desc1ibes a North Carolina example of the urban legend, the story of an especially pugnacious Duke football player. In "Tugging on Sup<:nnan's 188 Cape: The Making ofa College Legend,"James Wisc persuasively argues that the least obvious level of the town-gown conflict in the story is probably the most imp(?rta.nt. (n addition to the essays on quilts and duck decoys, other material culture studies include Rachel B. Osborn's study of the Hugh Dixon Homestead and Kathleen Condon's essay on the ~outsider" art of Clyde Jones of Bynum. Other strengths ofthis excellent collection include the personal tone of many of the pieces, the performance-oriented approach of the entire volume, and, in a number of the essays, a deliberate focus on ideas for future folklore study. The exemplary nature ofthese studie!:, as well as the great variety ofgenres and approaches demonstrated in the book, makes it an cxcellcnc teaching text. The editors' introduction 10 Arts in J::arnest also provides an enlightening historical overview of folk studies in the state. and could almost be listed as a separate essay on ~The History and Future of Folk Studies in North Carolina." In many ways this book is a tribute to the editors, two of our state's finest folklore teachers, researchers, and professional mentors. Essay authors are their students, twelve of\,;hom have graduated to successful careers in public sector or academic folklore. Thus, many ofthese writers continue 10 enrich our understanding of North Carolina folklifc, as they have in this outstanding collection. Listening/or the Crack ofDaum: A Master Storyteller Recalls the Appalachia of His Youth. By Donald M. Davis. Little Rock, AR: August House, 1990. Pp. 224,preface. $17.95 hardback. Reviewed by Cheryl Oxford. Donald Davis is a retired United Methodist mm1ster, a former chairperson ofthe Board ofthe National Association for the Preservation and Perpetuation of Sto111elling, and a professional storyteller with a national reputation. He is also author of a collection of tales which ha.~ been compared with the works of Flannery O'Connor, Eudora Welty, and William :Faulkner. Davis's memories of his youth in Haywood County, North Carolina, a world rich with stories, are the subject of Liste11i1igf<>r tlui Cracl, ofDaum. The book's subtille-A Master Storyteller Recalls the Appalachia of His Youth-suggests a locale for these nost.'\lgic tales, the hills and hamlets of western North Carolina in the 1950s. Yet Da\,is's themes arc so universal and evocative that all readers should feel a kinship with these mount.'\in folk from mythic "Nantahala County." Davis acknowledges that each reader has, even if living in a totally different world, "been there" (7). h is Davis's delight in the ordinary which gives the book its extraordinary chann. 189 ~ --·~·-~ -·· ·-··7 Raleigh. N. C. [n his preface, Davis ponders the appropriate term for his form, which he considers" uew medium-not a novd, yet more than a collection of .•eparate .•tori es. The stoiie.•, Davis suggests, represent «a chronologi cal growing-up cycle" (7). The work as a whole, with its theme of coming of age, is a sort of bildungm>man. The tales are told from a double perspective, that ofthe .•torytclleras both boy and man. This duality gives the collection its wisdom and its wistfulness. The book is one you'll want to savor_ Il is like a treasured family photo album, holding the portraits ofsuch vivid characters as Aunt Laura, Miss Annie, DoctorYork, Wild Harry, and Daff-Knee Garlic. As you turn each leaf, you find yourself reminiscing about your own great aunt, family doctor, ol 190