GRAYSON-HIGHLANDS STATE PARK

Well, it took the better part of 8-months, but cabin fever finally struck. For the past few weeks, I have been itching to hit the road for something more than an out and back day trip.  All summer long I had combated cabin fever with day trip that I used to capture footage for some up coming YouTube Video. Those little trips and my daily walks helped to fend off the fever.

But in the last couple of weeks, the leaves began to change and with cooler days, I really wanted to hit the road. So that’s what I did. Ove the last three days, I put close to 1,000 miles on the car.

I started out with a trip down to the Grayson Highlands State Park. I had never been that and it is remote and takes a little effort to get there. But once I arrived, I quickly found out it is one of Virginia’s Hidden Gems.

It does get crowded this time of the year as it is extremely popular with the leaf peepers.  The park is part of the Mount Roger’s Recreation Area. Mount Roger’s is the highest point in Virginia, standing about 5,728 feet tall.

The Appalachian Trail runs through the park and it is a popular jumping on/off sport for section and day hikers.  Probably the most popular spot in the Park is Massie Gap, as evidenced by the number of cars parker there.

Massie Gap has several hiking trails, but what really makes it popular is the wild ponies that live here. Back abut 1974 a herd of wild ponies were introduced to the area of Grayson Highlands State Park adjacent to the Appalachian Trail. The ponies are vital to habitat management and ack as natural lawn mowers.  Today, there are about 100-ponies in the park, and they are the parks most popular feature.

I managed to find a parking spot at Massie Gap and shortly after beginning my two-mile hike along the Rhododendron Trail I saw three ponies grazing in the meadow adjacent to the trail. The were not bothered by the large number of humans. For the most part the humans obeyed the many signs to no attempt to interact or bother the ponies.  They are wild and will kick and bite.

I spent several hours enjoying the beauty of the Park. The hike along a short part of the Rhododendron Trail was most enjoyable.

After leaving the state park I drove west on Route 58, through the bustling Appalachian Trail Town of Damascus.  This town is really cool, as it is one of the most popular spots on the Appalachian Trail and it is also the midway point on the Virginia Creeper Trail.

The Creeper Trail is a 30+ mile hiking and bicycle trail that runs from the top of White Top Mountain at the North Carolina-Virginia State Line all the way to Abingdon. A few years back a couple of friends and I rented bikes in Damascus and rode the 17-miles from White Top back to Damascus.  The bike rental company will shuttle you and your bike to the top of the mountain so you can ride back down.

Most of the 17-mile ride back to Damascus is almost all downhill, the only exception is the last 3-miles which is level.  We took about 4-hours to make the trip, as we stopped several times for pictures and to just enjoy the beauty of the trail. 

We also stopped for lunch at the Creeper Trail Café for lunch.  The café features basic sandwiches, hot dogs, burgers and fried. But what they are widely known for is their homemade chocolate cake.  I had a huge slice of cake and man oh man, it lived up to its reputation as being the “Best Chocolate Cake I the World.”

If you are ever visiting Southwest Virginia and have some time to kill, I strongly urge you to take a ride on the Creeper Trail and Visit Grayson Highlands State Park. I don’t think you will be disappointed in either.

After leaving Damascus it was back home to pack my bag, recharge my electronics and get ready to hit the road for a short trip up through the Shenandoah Valley. 

I am looking forward to hitting the road again. Stay tuned.

MAD ANN BAILEY

I stumbled on this really by accident back in 2004. I was just out piddling and made a stop at the Falls at Falling Springs, on Route 220 north of Covington, Virginia. The small parking area at the falls was full and I ended up parking on the shoulder just north of the falls. 

After walking to the Falls Overlook and snapping a few photos, I returned to my car so I could Piddle on. Just as I was getting in the car, I caught sight of a small plaque embedded into the face of the stone cliff adjacent to the roadway. 

Strange, so I took a moment to investigate. The simple plaque read: “Near this spot stood the rude hut in which MAD ANN BAILEY spent the last years of her life. As a scout and Indian Fighter, she rendered valuable service to the first settlers of this section. Placed by the Rainbow Ridge Chapter D. A. R.” 

Wow, I had never heard of Mad Ann Bailey, but I knew I wanted to know the rest of the story. Here is what I found out.

She was born in England in 1742 and after her parent died, she came to America sometime around 1760 or 1761 and eventually settled near Staunton, Virginia. There she met and married a man named Richard Trotter who was a member of the Virginia Militia. Richard was called to service and was killed on October 10, 1774 during the Battle of Point Pleasant. A vicious battle between the Militia and the Shawnee who were led by Chief Cornstalk. 

After Richards death, Ann set about to avenge his death. She started dressing in men’s clothes and became very proficient with a rifle, knife, and tomahawk. Even though she was a woman, she became an accomplished hunter, scout, spy, and Indian Fighter. 

She had a quick temper and could out drink and out cuss any man. Those around her started calling her “Mad Ann,” because of her angry disposition. 

In 1785 she married John Bailey and the couple settled near Charleston, West Virginia. Ann continued to serve as a scout and messenger for various forts along the Greenbrier, Kanawha, and Ohio Rivers. 

Ann’s most heroic deed came in 1791 when she was 49 years old. She was asked to carry a message warning the people of nearby Fort Lee of an impending Indian Attack. Upon her arrival she discovered that the fort was dangerously low on gun power and supplies. Without hesitation, Mad Ann volunteered to make the 100-mile ride from Fort Lee to Lewisburg to get the much-needed supplies.  Just Three days after leaving the Fort, Mad Ann returned with enough powder, shot, and supplies to allow the fort to defeat the Shawnee. 

Ann and John remained at Fort Lee until John died in 1794. Even after John’s death, Ann continued to serve as a frontier scout and messenger and for a few months lived in a hut near the site of this simple plaque that caught my attention.  

Ann finally left the life of scout, spy, and Indian Fighter behind and moved in with her son near Gallipolis, Ohio where, believe it or not Mad Ann Bailey became a schoolteacher. 

Mad Ann died at the age of 83 on November 22, 1825. She was buried in the Trotter Family Cemetery near Gallipolis. She rested there for 76 years but in 1901 her remains were moved and she was reburied in Monument Park in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. 

Ironically, her grave is just a few feet away from the Shawnee Chief Cornstalk, who had led the Indians in the Battle of Point Pleasant. The same battle where her first husband had died and set Ann off on her career as a Frontier Scout, Messenger, and Indian Fighter. Now, along with me, You too, know the rest of the story.

UNCLE ALFRED

Back in 1988, I made my first visit to The Hermitage with my dad.  During that visit we were unable to tour the house because it was undergoing some structural renovations. But we were able to walk the grounds and visit the tomb of President Andrew Jackson and is Wife Rachel.

It was during this visit that I first noticed the small stone near the Presidents Tomb inscribed “Uncle Alfred.” While I was curious about Uncle Alfred, it wasn’t until I returned to The Hermitage in 2005 and took the tour of the mansion that I was able to satisfy my curiosity and find out who Uncle Alfred was.

During the tour, the guide mentions that Uncle Alfred a couple of times, which further aroused my curiosity. After the tour I managed to corner one of the guided and found out a little more about Uncle Alfred. She said Alfred was born into slavery somewhere around 1805. His mother was named Betty who was a cook at the Hermitage for more than 50-years.

As young man Alfred was responsible for maintaining the wagons and farm equipment in addition to working in the fields.  By all accounts Alfred was a responsible and dependable worker which was noticed by President Jackson. As time went by Alfred became a close and trusted servant of the President.  He tended to the Presidents horses and carriages and eventually became his personal butler and at times bodyguard.

The guide went on to explain that Alfred lived in a small cabin behind the Hermitage. That cabin still stands today. When President Jackson died in 1845 the slaves, including Alfred was given their freedom. Most to them left The Hermitage and went to nearby Nashville, but Alfred remained at The Hermitage and continued to live in his small cabin.

The Hermitage remained in the Jackson Family and Uncle Alfred continued to live in his small cabin became a tenant farmer. During the Civil War, members of the Jackson Family were still occupying the Hermitage and in 1863, Union Forces Camped on the grounds. But unlike other places in the south, The Hermitage was not burned or ransacked out of respect for President Jackson.

After the war, the Hermitage fell into disrepair and the last two members of the Jackson Family were forced to begin selling furnishing. Alfred, who had managed to save some money over the years managed to buy several pieces of furniture that belonged to President Jackson. Alfred moved these treasured pieces into his small cabin where they remained until 1889.

It was then that the Ladies Hermitage Association purchased the mansion and 25-acres of land to preserve it as a historical site. Little by Little, Over the Next century the Association gained control of the entire 1,200 acres that was once The Hermitage Plantation. 

Soon after the Ladies Hermitage Association gained control of the property, they approached Alfred and ask if he would consider selling the original furniture back to the Association so that it could be returned to the Mansion. Alfred agreed with one addition request. When he died, he wanted to be buried in Rachels Garden near the Tomb of President Jackson and his wife Rachel. The Association agreed and the furniture was returned to the Mansion. Today, almost 90% of what we see at The Hermitage is authentic to the property. 

After the Association took control of the property, Alfred continued to live in the small cabin that he had called home all his life. He was too old to continue farming so he took great pride in conducting tours of the mansion and ground. He would delight visitors with his personal stories about our 7^th President and his life at the Hermitage.

Uncle Alfred died on September 4, 1901. True to their word the Ladies Hermitage Association arranged for Uncle Alfred to be buried in Rachel’s Garden just a few steps from the tomb of President and Mrs. Jackson. The small stone that marks his final resting place is inscribed:

UNCLE ALFRED

DIED SEPT. 4, 1901

AGE 98

FAITHFUL SERVANT

OF ANDREW JACKSON.

So, if you ever visit The Hermitage, as you walk the grounds, pay particular attention to that little cabin situated just outside the back door of the Mansion. Then as you walk over to the tomb of President Jackson, stop and spend a moment to remember Uncle Alfred, a remarkable man who spent his entire life here at The Hermitage.

 

 

 

 

DR. SAMUEL MUDD

 

Back in 2016, I was on my way to the Military Bowl in Annapolis, Maryland when I saw one of those Brown Signs. Well, you know me and those Brown Signs so off I went. A few minutes later I found myself at the home of Dr. Samuel Mudd. 

Now, most of us know that on April 14, 1865, John Wilkes Booth entered the Presidential Box at Ford’s Theater and fired a single shot into the back of President Abraham Lincoln’s Head. Booth leaped from the Presidential Box onto the stage, breaking his leg in the process. In the confusion Booth managed exit the theater and mounted a horse he had waiting in the ally and fled across Anacostia River into Maryland.

A few Hours later Booth arrived at the home of Dr. Samuel Mudd seeking treatment for his Broken Leg. Dr. Mudd treated Booth and sent him on his way.  Mudd wouldn’t learn of the Lincoln Assassination for several hours after Booth Left.

A few days Later Dr. Mudd was interviewed and later arrested as a conspirator in the assassination of President Lincoln.  After a lengthy trial he was found guilty on June 26, 1865. Mudd escaped the hangman’s noose by one single vote and was sentenced to life imprisonment. The Four other defendants Mary Surratt, Lewis Powell, David Herold, and George Atzerodt were sentenced to death and hanged on July 7, 1865.

Dr. Mudd was sent to Fort Jefferson an isolated fort about 70-miles west of Key West. Florida to serve his sentence. In the fall of 1867, the story takes a tragic turn as the fort was ravaged by Yellow Fever.

The plaque claimed the Prison Doctor and Dr. Mudd immediately took over, treating guards, prisoners, and staff. He saved countless lives and due to his efforts, the disease was eventually stopped. Over the Next few month many of the soldiers, guards, and staff wrote to President Andrew Johnson asking that Dr. Mudd be pardoned.

Finally, in February 1869, President Johnson signed the Pardon and Dr. Samuel Mudd was release on March 8, 1869.  He returned to his Maryland home where unsuccessfully dabbled in politics. He did not return to an active medical practice but did operated a successful farm.

For the next 14 years, Dr. Mudd lived quietly here at his Maryland Farm.  On January 10, 1883, Dr. Mudd died of pneumonia and was buried in the St. Mary’s Catholic Church. 

Ironically, it was at this church that Dr. Mudd first met John Wilkes Booth and helped the future assassin buy a horse from a local farmer. Booth and Mudd met several more times before Booth showed up at the Mudd Home on the morning of April 15, 1865. While authorities considered these meetings, suspicious there is no real proof that Mudd participated in or knew of the plan to assassinate President Lincoln.

If, you have every heard the saying, “Your name is Mud,” well you can thank Dr. Mudd for that. The Dr. Mudd Home is a seasonal site and was close during my visit, but I did get to walk around the grounds and after leaving the home I made the short drive to St. Mary’s Church where I had no trouble finding Dr. Mudd’s Grave.

Once again one of those Brown Signs has led me on another interesting adventure.

HANG DOWN YOUR HEAD TOM DOOLEY

 Ok, I got to admit that I didn’t just stumble on this little adventure. It did take some planning and a little bit of an effort. While I wasn’t completely successful It turned out to be an interesting little adventure.

How many of you have heard the song “Hang Down Your Head, Tom Dooley,” by the Kingston Trio. Well, did you know the song was based the troubled life of a man Named Tom Dula. A few years back while visiting my Mom in the Hickory, North Carolina area, I set out to learn a little more about the man and to see if I could find some of the places relating to Tom Dula.

Tom was born and raised in Wilkes County, North Carolina as a teen, joined the Confederate Army. After the war, Tom returned to Wilkes county and let’s say he became friendly with two girls that he grew up with, Anne Melton and her cousin Laura Foster. 

Now here is where things get a bit cloudy. Legend has it that Laura was pregnant, and that Tom had convinced her to slip off an elope. So, in the early morning of May 25, 1866, Laura left home and was never seen alive again. Her body was found several days later by her cousin Anne Melton, who named Tom as a suspect. Tom was captured by a posse working on the farm of Colonel James Grayson just across the state line in Tennessee.

 Following his arrest, he was held in the Old Wilkes County Jail and was represented by former Governor Zebulon Vance who had the trail moved to nearby Statesville, North Carolina. Tom Dula was convicted of the murder of Laura Foster and hanged on May 1, 1868

So, during my little adventure I wanted to see how many places that I could find. I started off in Wilkesboro where the old Jail is still standing. The jail was built in 1859 and during the Civil War held several Union Prisoners who were waiting to be transferred to a POW Camp. It was here that Tom was held while awaiting trial. From Wilkesboro,

 I made my way west on Highway 268 where I found a historic marker that is located near where Tom Is buried. I wanted to see if I could find the grave, but it is on private property and due to vandals chipping away at the tombstone the property owner has posted the property and locked the gate

But I did manage to find a copyright free photo of the grave on the internet. 

My final stop on this little adventure was about 5 miles further west on Highway 268. There in the middle of a farmer’s field, protected only by a white board fence is the grave of Laura Foster.

Not seeing any no trespassing signs and an unlocked gate, I made my way to the middle of the field where I found a simple tombstone that had the inscription “Murdered May 1865 – Tom Dula hanged for Crime.” 

A lot of the people in the area still thinks that Laura was murdered by Ann Melton.  There are some more sorted theories about the legend of Tom Dula and Laura Foster, but I'll leave it to you to research and draw your own conclusions.

It was an interesting and full day.  The next time you are listening to the radio and happen to hear "Hang

“Hang Down your Head Tom Dooley,” you will know The Rest of of the story.

MAIL POUCH BARNS

 Here is this week’s episode of Stay at Home Travel. Today, when we travel, we are bombarded with billboards advertising everything from Hotels and restaurants to Antique Shops and Roadside Attractions. There are so many of these that most of the time we drive right by without paying them any attention. But there was a time when advertising was not only unique but creative.

It was back in 2005 when I stopped at a small roadside restaurant on the National Road near Wheeling, West Virginia that I discovered a time when roadside advertising added character to the American Landscape. While having lunch, I noticed that the walls of the restaurant was dotted with photos of Mail Pouch Barns. After finishing my lunch, I was walking around the restaurant admiring the photos.

The owner approached me and for the next few minutes we chatted about how much I enjoy finding one of these roadside treasures when I am traveling. As we talked, he told me the man who painted most of these barns was named Harley Warrick. He went on to say that when Mr. Warrick was in the area, he would often frequent the restaurant and over the years they became friends. Because of his friendship with Mr. Warrick, the restaurant Owner, began stopping and taking pictures of the barn whenever he would come across one.

Over the years he has photographed more than 100 different barns or Roadside Treasures as he calls them. All of the more than 100 photos that hung in his restaurant are of different barns. After my visit I did a little research and found that Harley Warrick grew up on a dairy farm in Ohio. After a hitch in the Army he returned to Ohio where he was offered a job as – You guessed it – A barn Painter. It would be the only job he would ever have. He traveled from town to town, sleeping in his pickup truck, painting two barns a day.

For more than 50-year Harley traveled throughout rural America, painting and repainting more than 21,000 barns. But 1965, something called the Highway Beautification Act signaled the beginning of the end for the Mail Pouch Barns. Eventually, the Mail Pouch Barns were designated a National Historic Landmark and Harley was able continue painting the existing barns. Harley Warrick retired in 1991 and died 9-years later in 2000. He was the last of the Mail Pouch Barn Painters.

So now when I’m traveling around Ohio, West Virginia and Pennsylvania and I see one of these wonderful barns, I make a point to stop and take a picture. Many of the barns are falling and the paint is fading, but I snap a picture anyway because once they are gone, there will never be anymore. So, the next time you are traveling the back roads of America and see one of these old barns think back and remember just how much character they add to the American Landscape, because soon they will all be gone.

ASPENVALE

Back in the summer of 2004 I was just out piddlin and ended up on Route 11 in Smyth County, Virginia. When I piddle, I tend to stay off the Interstates. Everyone knows Interstate Piddlin is not much fun. 

Anyway, I found myself in the community of Seven Mile Ford. It was there that I came upon a large stone monument standing in someone front yard. So, I stopped and discovered that this was the site of Aspenvale, which was the home of Revolutionary War General William Campbell. General Campbell is known as the Hero of the Battle of Kings Mountain and was a significant participant in the Battle of Guilford Courthouse.

Elizabeth Henry Campbell Russell

Another interesting fact is that General Campbell was married to Elizabeth Henry who was the sister of Governor Patrick Henry. Yes, the same Patrick Henry who utter those immortal words, “Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death.” General Campbell died in 1781 and in 1783 Elizabeth married another General named William Russell.

The couple moved to Saltville a few years later and She became a devout Methodist.  In fact, she is credited with the growth of the Methodist Church in Southwest Virginia.  If you ever find yourself in Saltville, pay attention to the Large stone church that you see there. It is known as “The Madam Russell Church,” named for Madam Elizabeth Henry Campbell Russell. 

Now back to the large monument on the side of the road. It mentions the Aspenvale Cemetery is located nearby. So off I went.

General William Campbell

The cemetery sits on private property on top of a hill. As luck would have it the owner of the property was nearby and kindly allowed me to drive up to the cemetery. Here in the small family cemetery surrounded by a rock wall, I found the graves of General William Campbell, Elizabeth Henry Campbell Russell, and General Francis Preston, who was the son of Colonel Will Preston.

General Preston married William and Elizabeth Campbell’s daughter Sarah. The Preston’s initially lived in Saltville, Va., where they managed the Saltworks. On a side note, during the Civil War, Saltville was known as the Salt Capital of the Confederacy. The Preston’s became quiet wealthy and later built an elaborate home in Abington.  The Preston Home in Abingdon is today known as The Martha Washington Inn.

Wow, I discovered so much history, all because I decided to stop and read a Monument on the side of the road. That quick stop, turned into about a two-hour adventure right here my own back yard. Just goes to show, History is all around you, you just have to take time to experience it.

JOHN T. SCOPES

A few years back I found myself piddling around Paducah, Kentucky. As I was on my way to supper one evening, I passed a Kentucky Historical Marker. So, I pulled over to see what tidbit of history I had stumbled on. 

This History on a Stick stood at the entrance to Oak Grove Cemetery which is the final resting place of John. T. Scopes.  So, you know me and cemeteries, I had to go and explore. 

For those of you that don’t know or may have forgotten John Scopes was a football coach and part-time substitute teacher at Rhea County High School in Dayton, Tennessee. During one of his stints as a substitute teacher, Mr. Scopes taught a course that included Darwin’s Theory of Evolution. 

This course was in violation of a Tennessee Law known as the Butler Act, which prevented the teaching the Theory of Evolution in place of the Biblical Account of the creation of man. Scopes was charged and eventually went on trial. The “Scopes Monkey Trial” garnered national attention.

When it began in 1925, Mr. Scopes defense team included the nationally known lawyer Clarence Darrow. The prosecution team countered with equally well-known attorney name William Jennings Bryan. The trial lasted several days, but the most dramatic moment came when Darrow ask the jury to return a verdict of guilty so that the case could be appealed.  Darrow’s dramatic closing argument silenced Bryan and prevented him from delivering the closing argument that he had been working on for weeks. Bryan was humiliated and embarrassed. 

The jury deliberated only 8-minutes before returning a guilty verdict just as Darrow had ask. The Judge fined Mr. Scopes the sum of $100. Five days later William Jennings Bryan, lay down to take an afternoon nap and died quietly in his sleep. True to his word, Darrow appealed the guilty verdict and while the Butler act was found to be legal and constitutional, the Scopes Convictions was overturned because the fine was set by the judge rather than the jury. The State of Tennessee chose not to retry Mr. Scopes.

While visiting his grave that afternoon, I got to thinking, what happened to this man after the trial. Here is what I found out.

After the trial Mr. Scopes was humiliated and harassed by media and tried to retreat from public view.  He attempted to return to college, but his notoriety made furthering his education exceedingly difficult, but he succeeded and specialized in the fields of energy and geology. His notoriety coupled with the great depression made life hard for Mr. Scopes and he chose to step back into the limelight when he ran unsuccessfully for congress in 1932.

Following his political defeat, he again stepped out of public view and moved to Texas where he took a job in the oil and natural gas industry. He continued to further his education and became an expert in his field, working throughout Texas and Louisiana.  His only foray back into the public limelight was a 1960 appearance on the TV Show “To Tell the Truth.” He continued to work in the oil and natural gas industry and moved for the final time to take a job with Pennzoil in Shreveport, Louisiana. 

John T. Scopes, the little-known substitute teacher that gained national attention as the subject of the famous “Monkey Trial” died of cancer at his home in Shreveport on October 21, 1970. He is buried next to his wife and parents here in Paducah. 

THE STORY OF JAMES KEELING

A few weeks back, I took a little social distancing day trip down to Scott County and Bristol. I ended my day in Bristol’s East Hill Cemetery. As I said before, the monuments in some of these old cemeteries tell a story or at least tell enough of a story to make you want to know more about the person. That was the case as I walked around this historic cemetery.

As I was walking through the Civil War Section I came upon the grave with this inscription on the stone “The Southern Horatius – Successfully defend the bridge at Strawberry Plains, Tennessee on the Night of November 8, 1861.” This was enough to make me want to know more about James Keeling.So when I got back home, I did a little research and discovered that prior to the start of the Civil War

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Mr. Keeling was living and working on a farm owned by Frank Butler in the community of Strawberry Plains, northeast of present day Knoxville, Tennessee. The East Tennessee and Virginia Railroad passed through the farm and crossed the Holston River a couple of miles away. The Railroad during the Civil War was a vital supply link for the Confederacy. Because of this the Holston River Bridge was a target of Union Forces hoping to disrupt the Confederate Supply Lines.

In 1861, the railroad hired Mr. Keeling to guard the bridge. He would work on the farm by day and sleep at the east end of the bridge during the night. On the night of November 8, 1861, about 40 Union Volunteers under the direction of Sevier County Sheriff William Pickens approach the bridge. They were going to burn the bridge, however they hadn’t count on encountering Keeling, who immediately shot and killed Pickens, who dropped the lit torch into the river below.

The others Union Volunteers charged Keeling who engaged his attackers in a hand to hand fight in which two more Union Volunteers were killed. During the hand to hand battle one of the Volunteers got a shot off, wounding Keeling. Thinking he was dead and not having any way to torch the bridge they rode away. Seriously wounded, Keeling walked to a nearby home and a doctor amputated his hand, which was buried in the Stringfield Family Cemetery.

After the war Keeling struggled to make a living and later moved to a small farm near Bristol where he was regard by Confederate Veterans as a hero and was a popular figure at Confederate Reunions. Veterans often referred to him as “The Horatius of the South,” after the legendary Roman Figure who had also defended a bridge. James Keeling died on February 12, 1895 and was buried in East Hill Cemetery. His grave was unmarked until about 1909, when local citizens raised the necessary funds to place and dedicated the marker that I visited today.

UPDATE AND RAMBLINGS

What has been going on in my world you ask? Not a lot. I am still staying pretty much close to home and practicing social distancing. While some of the restrictions have been lifted here in the Old Dominion a lot of people in my immediate area are still concerned at bout the virus now that the Radford University Students are moving back to campus. And a larger concentration of Virginia Tech Students will be back in the next few days. 

I fully expect to see a dramatic surge in cases in my immediate area over the next few weeks.  I makes very little sense to me to limit gatherings like church services, outdoor events while bringing thousands of outsiders back into an area that by and large has has a pretty low number of infections so far.  I have very little confidence in the University Administrators, the Local and State Governments ability to manage anything. 

The full time local residents of the area have done a really good job of social distancing and managing the new normal and now you are going to bring back thousands of students from not only all over the United States but all over the world. Not knowing where they have been and who they have been in contact with over the last several month, makes absolutely not sense to me.  These decisions on both a national and state levels further lends credibility to the theory that this entire plandemic is a political stunt.

I have no doubt that COVID-19 is real and it is a serious illness and I really don't want to take a chance on getting sick as I am a really back patient. I will continue to social distance, and when requested by local businesses, wear a mask when shopping. Not necessarily, because I think wearing a mask serves any purpose, but out of respect for the business owner so as not to cause them any problems with the government. 

I am also going back to using home delivery for groceries and restaurant meals now that the students are back in the area.  Again I have little doubt that the infection rate is going to increase significantly and I just don't want to take a chance on getting sick. 

Enough about all that.  One of my friends ask me the other day what were my plans for the rest of the year. Basically, I am just taking it day by day.  From what I am seeing and hearing I probably won't be attending any college football games this year.  All indication are that the games will be played in stadiums completely free of fans or attendance will be limited to only the most significant donors.Plus, like I have said, a college campus is probably the most dangerous place you could be if you are concerned about the virus.

It also doesn't look like the same may be true for the College Basketball season. Like football most of the revenue comes from TV Money so their will probably be a season so the NCAA and the Conferences can reap some benefits from the Media Money.

I know it's a long time off and my chances of attending the 2021 NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament is considerably less than 50%. I have at least started glancing at tournament sites and dates.  If I attend, the two most likely sites will be Raleigh, North Carolina or Dallas Texas.  Wichita, Kansas comes in a distant third right now. 

For now and for the rest of the year, my plans are to continue to take day trips that allows me to get out while still social distancing.  I am considering reviving something that I have been kicking around for a year or two. That is to do a complete video tour of U. S. Route 11 in Virginia.

I can do a large part of it in a series of day trips, while staying at home. While I am in the early planning stages, it looks like I would start at Bristol and work my way north all the way to Winchester. My early plan is to spend some time in the cities and towns along the way, sampling the food at some of the local restaurants and visiting some to the old roadside attractions that still dot the landscape.

Like I said I am still in the early planning stages and probably won't get started on it until later in August and I would hope to finish the project sometime in October.  But like all things, it will depend on the virus and the restrictions that may resurface down the road.

Looking ahead to 2021. Everything that I had planned in 2020 has been pushed back to next year.  If I attend the basketball tournament in either Dallas or Wichita, then I would like to continue on west to California. My previous plan was to get to California and spent a couple of weeks touring National Parks along with the Reagan and Nixon Presidential Libraries. Then slowly making my way back east along Interstates 70 or 80. But again it all depends on the social climate and what reopens in 2021.

I would also like to take the bus trip that I had planned with Sunshine Tours out through New Mexico, Colorado and the National Parks of Utah.  I don't know if that will happen or not, as Sunshine like most of the travel industry has been had hit and are struggling to stay in business. 

Trips to the Presidential Sites in Ohio and to Michigan along with a fall trip through upstate New York,, Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine are also on the radar. It is never too early to start planning, but it remains to be seen if the plans becomes a reality.

Finally, I have uploaded some new content to my YouTube Channel. I am getting better about editing and uploading new content. My desire is to get a new video uploaded about every 7-10 days.  So if you really get bored, slip on over there and take a look at it. 

For now, I hope everything is well in your world, and that you can stay healthy and active during these ever changing times. 

BILL MACK - 1932-2020

When I first got my drivers license way back when, one of my first jobs was delivering the Bluefield Daily Telegraph newspaper to subscribers around my hometown.  Ever morning for more than a year I would get up at 4 a.m., pickup the 390 papers that I would stuff into newspaper tubes or folded and toss onto a front porch (some made it some didn’t.). 

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During the darkness of those lonely mornings, I would tune in to the tune in to the 50,000 watt – clear channel radio station from such places as Fort Worth, New Orleans, Nashville, and Cincinnati.  The Voice of Charlie Douglas from way down yonder in New Orleans, became a constant companion.  Over the years as I travel through the night, others like Big John Trimble from WRVA in Richmond, and Dale Sommers who was known to the his all night audience as “The Truckin’ Bozo,” from WWL in Cincinnati, rode along and kept me company.   I spent many a night, and early morning driving around this country listening to what was referred to way back then as All Night Trucking Radio. 

Today, we lost another one of those treasured voices. Bill Mack, the Midnight Cowboy from the tiny town of Shamrock, Texas died today at the age of 88. For more than 30-years, Bill Mack broadcast his all-night radio show over Forth Worth’s Clear Channel Station, WBAP-820. 

When the sun went down and the small local stations ended their broadcast day, the clear channel station and old friends like Charlie, Big John, Bozo and of course Bill would show up and keep me company. With his humor and that unmistakable Texas Twang, Bill Mack was that friendly voice in the night that make the dark highway a little brighter and a little less lonely. Thank you old friend for riding along and keeping me company.

Rest in Peace, Bill Mack – The Midnight Cowboy (1932-2020)

THE GREENBRIER GHOST

Sometimes you don’t have to go far to find a good story. This was the case a few years back when I was piddling around in Greenbrier County, West Virginia. I happened upon a roadside historical marker that details the life and death of Zona Hester Shue who is known as the Greenbrier Ghost.

Zona lived with her mother in the Greenbrier County Community of Sam Black Church. In 1896 despite her mother’s objection, Zona married Erasmus Shue, who was basically a drifter that came to the area and found work as a blacksmith. For almost a year the couple seemed to live a peaceful life, but on January 23, 1897 a neighbor found Zona dead in here home.

The coroner examined the body and ruled that she had died of Natural Causes. The next day Zona was buried in a near by church cemetery.

About four weeks after Zona was buried, she appeared to her mother Mary Jane in a dream and claimed that she had been murdered by Erasmus. Zona told her that Erasmus had broken her neck in a fit of rage and to prove it Zona turned her head around until it was facing backward. Mary Jane was so sure of the story that Zona’s Ghost has told her that she contacted the local prosecutor and eventually convinced him to re-examine the case

Mary Jane’s persistence paid off and on February 22, 1897, Zona’s body was exhumed and thoroughly examined. After three day the coroner concluded that Zona’s neck had indeed been broken. The examination also revealed she had been choked and here windpipe Crushed.

As a result, Erasmus was promptly arrested and charged with Zona’s murder. In July 1897 Erasmus went on trial, and the star witness was, Zona who testified through her mother, Mary Jane. As a result, Erasmus was found guilty of the murder of his wife Zona. He was sentenced to life and died three years later in the West Virginia State Prison in Moundville. He is buried in the White Gate Prison Cemetery and remains the only person known to have been convicted on the testimony of a ghost.

LUCKENBACH & TURKEY

There are a few things that are on bucket lists for most country music fans. The Ryman Auditorium, home of the Grand Ole Opry is probably the most often listed place. After all it is called “The Mother Church of Country Music.”

However, in 2018 when I was on my month-long Texas Adventure, I made a point to visit two sites that were on my Country Music Bucket List. Midway through my Texas Adventure, I found myself in the Texas Hill Country where I spent a few days visiting Fredericksburg, and Johnson City, including the Lyndon B. Johnson National Historic and the Texas White House.

One afternoon after finishing my Visit to the LBJ Ranch, I decided to go looking for Waylon, Willie, and the Boys. Yep I made my way down to Luckenbach, Texas. When not hosting music performances, Luckenbach resembles a ghost town, with only a Post Office/General Store, Saloon, and a few small refreshments stands that open during performances. But in it hay day, thousands of country music fans would flock here to see local and national stars. In fact, Luckenback was the home of the Willie Nelson 4th of July Picnic for several years. Just like the Eagles song, “Taking it Easy” made “Standing on the Corner in Winslow, Arizona” a popular thing to do, (yes I have stood on the corner, but that’s a story for another time), Luckenback, became a go to place for country music fans because of the Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson song, “Back to the Basics of Love.” The rest as they say is history. 

On the day of my visit there were a few other tourists searching for the Boys, but we didn’t find them, so we decided to forgo our search and enjoy some BBQ and a Lone Star Beer. After a visit to the Gift Shop/Post Office/Store, it was time to move on down the road and continue my Texas Adventure.

Later, as my adventure was winding down, I was able to scratch another place off my country music bucket list. One thing that I found out while visiting Texas is “It don’t matter who’s in Austin, Bob Wills is still the King.” So, I decided to make the 100-mile trip from Amarillo down to the small (and I mean really small) town of Turkey, Texas, which proudly claims the King of Western Swing as their own.

Bob Wills lived here as a boy and young man. He even worked as a barber here before heading off on a path that would take him all the way to the Country Music Hall of Fame. As I walked around this small town, I must say that I was impressed with the people who are bound and determined to keep the memory of Bob and his Texas Playboys alive. Even though Bob died in 1975, his music and his memory is still very much alive here in Turkey.

Each year in April the entire town hosts the Annual Bob Wills Festival. I must say the highlight of my visit was realizing that the young people of Turkey not only know who Bob Wills is but also embrace his music. No Rap or Hip Hop here.

This was never more evident than when I was walking around town and heard the unmistakable sound of those twin fiddles. I first thought it had to be coming from a radio, but I rounded the corner and found three young people sitting in a front yard playing “Faded Love”. Come to find out they were practicing for the Upcoming Bob Wills Festival.

Two Girls, ages 7 and 14 and a 10-year-old boy were alone practicing in their front yard. I stood and listened to the unmistakable sound that was Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. Before moving on, I told them that since I won’t be here for the festival would they take a request. The 10-year old very confidently told me, “If it’s Bob Wills, we can play it.” 

So, they finished up with my favorite Bob Wills song, “San Antonio Rose.” WOW! Is all I can say. What a way to end my visit to the small town Turkey, Texas, and to say that those three young people were amazing would be an understatement. And to say that I enjoyed my visit to Luckenbach and Turkey would also be an amazing understatement.

VISITING THE ALAMO AT NIGHT

 In March of 2018, I spent a little over a month traveling around the State of Texas. From Beaumont to El Paso and almost everything in between, I experienced Miles and Miles of Texas. I attended the First and Second rounds of the NCAA Basketball Tournament in Dallas and then a couple of weeks later spent some time in San Antonio in the days leading up to the NCAA Final Four.

I spent some time at some of the free Final Four Events scattered around town and I enjoyed the River Walk before heading out of town a few days before the big event.

Of course, I made it to the Alamo. It was crowded and like most places now days there is always people protesting something. But I fought the crowds, tuned out the protesters and took the tour.

Now fast forward to October 2018 when I embarked on another adventure, this time I left the driving to Amtrak. I traveled from Roanoke to Washington, and then overnight in a roomette on the Capitol Limited from Washington to Chicago. In the Windy City, I boarded the Texas Eagle for my three-day, two-night adventure would take me all the way to Phoenix Arizona.

I absolutely loved traveling long distance by train, but that’s another story. But one thing that I really enjoyed was the community seating in the dining car. Me being a single traveler I was always seated with three other folks and almost always enjoy my companions. In fact, I made several new friends that I still stay in touch with today. 

Anyway, we were scheduled to arrive in San Antonio about 9 p.m. on the second night. Here the Texas Eagle and the Sunset Limited (from New Orleans) are joined to form one train that goes all the way to Los Angeles. It takes a while for the two trains to be linked up and we were not scheduled to depart San Antonio until about 2 a.m.

The one thing that you must understand about Amtrak it that it is at the mercy of the different railroad lines and freight trains get priority. Because of this Amtrak is almost always late arriving at the stations. But on this evening, we arrived in San Antonio over an hour early so we had a little over 6-hours to kill. 

As I said, I had made friends with some of my dining companions, so our little group decided to go exploring. The Amtrak Station is in easy walking distance of downtown San Antonio and the River Walk. So off we went. We took one of the water taxi’s around the River Walk and spent some time enjoying the San Antonio Night Life at a few of the many bars that line the River Walk.

A couple of my traveling companions were from Canada and mentioned how disappointed they were to be in San Antonio and not see the Alamo. I told them it was only a short walk from the Alamo, so off we went. Arriving at the Alamo this time was so different from what I had experience back in March. Gone were the Crowds of tourist and protesters. The square was deserted and almost totally quiet. We stood in silence, Remembering The Alamo. Off to the side stood a lone Texas Ranger, guarding the honor of this sacred site.

After spending some time silently walking around the square none of us spoke as we returned to the River Walk and enjoyed a little more Texas hospitality. Then it was time to head back to the station. On the short walk back to the train my Canadian Friends said something that I believe we all were thinking. They said there were really surprised at how emotional and moving our night-time visit to the Alamo had been.

A little while later as I lay in bed waiting to depart, I could not help but think just how different my two visits to the Alamo had been. In March, the Alamo was a tourist attraction, clogged with people and protester. But on this October Night we had the opportunity to stand quietly, to reflect and remember just what happened here way back in 1836.

If you ever get to San Antonio I do encourage to visit during the day, fight the crowds, brave the protesters, and take the tour. But then return at night, it’s then that you will truly understand and appreciate why the Alamo is so special. and why it is the Sacred Shrine of Texas.

THE PRICE OF INDEPENDENCE

Over the years I have made several visits to our Nations Most Hallowed Ground – Arlington National Cemetery. There is no other place like it. I am always humbled as I watch the lone sentinel walk the 21-steps across the mat. The reverence, honor and dedication to duty is amazing. I am further humbled as I watch the precision in which the Changing of the Guard is performed. But I am most humbled when I walk silently and alone among the simple marble headstones. It then that I truly realize the real cost of freedom. 

A few years back, as I was walking quietly among the neat white stones, I notice there were a large number of aging veterans in the cemetery. Some were in wheelchairs, other on walkers and other were being assisted by family, friends, and caregivers. Most were veteran of World War II, many in uniform but all were wearing hats or name tags indicating their service. Those youthful faces who were at place like Omaha Beach, Iwo Jima, Midway and Pearl Harbor, were now wrinkled and worn.

As I walked among them, I noticed an elderly gentleman sitting alone in his wheelchair. I watched him for a few minutes before walking over, shook his hand and simply said, “Sir, I want to thank you for your service and for the freedom I enjoy.” He very quietly said, “Thank You, but I got a friend buried over there who did more than I ever could. I wish we could thank him.” I sat down on the bench next to him and for the next few minute we talked about his friend who was killed in action in France during World War II.
 As he talked, I watched as his eyes overflowed with tears. As I listened the love that he had for his friend and the other that he served with was obvious, and my own eyes began to overflow too.

I had been listening to this American Hero for the better part of 30-minutes, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands shaking and his voice cracking. We continue to talk, and I ask him if he could have had one thing from back home during those awful day of combat what would it have been. He looked at me and without hesitation said, “Dry Socks.” To say that I was not prepared for his answer would be an understatement. He went to explain that they marched day in and day out. Crossing rivers, streams and through swamps and at night they slept in the rain in foxholes and trenches. He explained that trench foot was a real problem. He when on to explain that some of his buddies had to have the foot amputated as a result.

Then he told me something ever more amazing. When the war ended and he made it back home, whenever he went to the store to by socks, he always bough two packs. One for himself and one pack that he donated to the veteran’s hospital or his local homeless shelter. A practice that he continues to this very day. 

A few minutes late one of the chaperones came up and end our visit as it was time for his group to move on. I shook his hand, I told him what an honor it was to meet him and once again thanked him for his service. As I was turning to leave, he handed me a quarter and ask me if I would place it on his friend’s stone. I took the coin and walked up the hill. I removed my hat as I knelt and placed coin on the stone. I look back and tears were once again streaming down his cheek as his chaperone slowly push him away. I have been back to Arlington two times since and each time I have made it a point to stop by and visit the grave of this veteran’s friend.

Today, as we celebrate our Independence I am reminded that no one and I mean no one can truly know the price of Freedom it you haven’t clutched the perfectly folded flag that has covered the coffin of a son, daughter, husband or wife. America is the LAND OF THE FREE BECAUSE OF THE BRAVE.

GOOD MORNING VIETNAM

So far 2020 has been anything but normal. Basically, the entire economy has been shut down for months and I have been unable to travel. With everything shut down I have had to find something to do while social distancing and trust me that hasn't been easy.

One thing that I have done is expanded my walking, around the neighborhood and a couple of local trails, and have been averaging between 5 and 6 miles a day. I have also got into trail hiking which is a little more challenging. I have hiked a few short out and back sections of the Appalachian Trail and a few other local tails that I have found on the All Trails App. 

But a man can only walk so far, so one of the other things that I have found to occupy my time is to fulfill photo requests on the Find-A-Grave  Website. People, mostly relatives who are doing ancestry research post request for grave photo and a volunteer in the area where the cemetery is located goes to the cemetery and attempts to locate and photograph the gravestone. 

A lot of the requests are in small rural family cemeteries that are located on private property. It is sometimes extremely hard to contact the property owner to obtain permission to access the cemetery. Other requests are in large church cemeteries who have extremely poor records of grave locations. They may have a list of people buried in their cemetery, but actual location is either very vague or not recorded at all. In that case you end up walking the cemetery hoping to get lucky. 

Then there are cemeteries that have either only line grave locators or a kiosk on site.  That was the case recently when I got a couple of requests for people buried in the Southwest Virginia Veterans Cemetery. Arriving at the cemetery I stopped at the kiosk and quickly secured the plot location for each person.  The Southwest Virginia Veterans Cemetery is a relatively new cemetery, opening in 2013 so there are only a couple of sections currently in use. 

On this day both requests were in Section 8. I was able to quickly locate both request and snap and upload the required photos.  As I was walking around the section looking at the name on each stone, I happened upon the grave of Adrian J. Cronauer. For some reason, the name rang a bell but for the life of me I could not figure out why. So, I left the cemetery and went about my business. Then an hour or so later, like a bolt out of the blue, it came to me...."GOOD MORNING VIETNAM." Could it be?

So I look it up and sure enough this was the same Adrian Cronauer who co-authored the original story for the movie, "Good Morning, Vietnam" In that film, Cronauer was por­trayed by Robin Williams whose performance was nominated for an Academy Award. But what I didn't know was the Mr. Cronauer live in Troutville, Virginia and served on the Board of Directors of the National D-Day Memorial and two terms as a trustee of the Virginia War Memorial. He died on July 18, 2018.