Appalachian Curiosities

By Laura Wright

Appalachian Curiosities is a copious compendium of creatures, characters, crimes, and conundrums. Curiosities features information that most history books won't discuss. The volume highlights five central Appalachian states, Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina, Kentucky, and West Virginia, with a strong focus on Southwestern Virginia and Northeastern Tennessee.

 

Dr. Jay was an esteemed physician in North Carolina, until addiction overtook him and he enacted one of the most heinous massacres in the history of the state. Edward Wentz, a Virginia mining magnate, disappeared in 1903. His body was found in 1904, but puzzling circumstances surrounding the case leaves researchers baffled even today. Is Virginia's Black Mountain really the Appalachian Bermuda Triangle? One Kentucky establishment is rumored to have its own "Portal to Hell." What are the facts behind the legend? Curiosities proves there's no shortage of mysteries and wonders to be found, not just in history, but in the history of the Appalachians.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black House Books
• Release date: Dec 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9798201500160

Laura Wright

Laura has spent most of her life immersed in the worlds of acting, singing, and competitive ballroom dancing. But when she started writing, she knew she'd found the true desire of her heart! Although born and raised in Minneapolis, Minn., Laura has also lived in New York, Milwaukee, and Columbus, Ohio. Currently, she is happy to have set down her bags and made Los Angeles her home. And a blissful home it is - one that she shares with her theatrical production manager husband, Daniel, and three spoiled dogs. During those few hours of downtime from her beloved writing, Laura enjoys going to art galleries and movies, cooking for her hubby, walking in the woods, lazing around lakes, puttering in the kitchen, and frolicking with her animals.

Book preview

Chapter One: Virginia

The Featherbed Ghost

Dances were a common fixture of Appalachian life well into the early Dances were a common fixture of Appalachian life well into the early Twentieth Century. They were a form of entertainment, as well as a public forum to discuss community events and efforts. Everyone danced, feasted, and sang until well after midnight. Entire families attended the affair. One of these dances was held in Scott County, in July of 1875.

The party was a resounding success with over one hundred people in attendance. Jolene Hilton’s family included her 8-month-old baby, Delia. Delia was exhausted by the festivities and nodded away on her mother’s shoulder around 8:00. Elva Murray hosted the party, so Jolene asked to use one of the bedrooms. Elva let her place her baby in the bedroom closest to the backyard, where the party was ongoing. Jolene draped her shawl across the sleeping infant and returned outside.

A while later, Sylvia McConnell brought her sleeping toddler, Cecil, into the house. She was directed to the same room. The 1-year-old boy had likewise exhausted himself. There weren’t any lights in the room, and Sylvia didn’t have a shawl. She felt around the room for a suitable quilt. She found a stack of folded quilts and pulled one of the top. The entire pile of folded quilts fell to the floor. She didn’t want to be rude to her hostess, so she picked up the pile of covers and sat them on the bed.

Jolene sat outside and waited for her baby to cry. Midnight came and she still hadn’t heard Delia wake. She returned to the bedroom to check on her. She found a pile of quilts had been thrown over where she slept. Jolene screamed and threw the covers from the infant.

Lights were brought into the room, but all their efforts were too late. The baby had died struggling, as evidenced by a single drop of blood on the featherbed. The Murray family sent for the doctor, but Delia still hadn’t breathed by the time he arrived. He pronounced the child deceased.

The party dispersed and everyone returned home. Elva tried to straighten the bed up and returned the quilts to their place, but when she turned around, the bed was messed up again. It looked just like Delia’s little body was still there. The silhouette was as fresh as if it had just been made. She straightened it again and left the room. Her daughter, Daisy, came in to go to bed. Daisy noticed the covers still had the baby’s outline, but just assumed no one had paid attention. She fluffed it out and snuffed the light.

Daisy went to bed, but never got any sleep. She kept hearing a baby choking and trying to cry. She ended up on the couch by morning. Elva believed it was just her daughter’s nerves, although she noticed the indentation of a baby was in the featherbed again. The family placed their eldest son in the room. Isaiah didn’t have any better luck than Daisy. After midnight, he woke to the sounds of a baby choking.

He was also on the couch the next morning. The family took turns to see if anyone could sleep in the room, but the efforts were futile. The covers would not stay straight. The outline of a sleeping baby always appeared on the featherbed. Elva noticed no matter how hard she scrubbed the featherbed, the drop of blood never faded or diminished.

The family tried making improvements on the room, rearranging the furniture, a new featherbed, but no changes stopped the outline from appearing on the covers, or the sounds that came around midnight.

As a last effort to find some peace, Elva rolled up the featherbed and stored it in the attic. The family dismantled the room and rebuilt it on the other side of the house.

The haunting ceased.

The Mine's Vengeful Wraith

An old southwest Virginia mine operator visited a historic tavern in Richmond. He loved the hustle and modern life in the city. It was the 1890s and he was well into his golden years. He ordered a drink and soon curious regulars directed the conversation to life in the mines. The story he told brought the tavern to silence.

He befriended two immigrant miners when he was young, an Irishman named Barney, and an Englishman named Bob. The two were new to America, but developed a strong friendship while they worked in the same stretch of mine. Regardless of their differences, they became best friends.

Unfortunately, Bob and Barney fell in love with the same girl. They were always civil towards each other, but the conflict strained their friendship. Like all love triangles, it came to an end when the girl chose Barney. Bob quietly walked away and nothing more was said. The two never openly fought or argued, but coworkers noticed a subtle change between them. Bob grew more impatient and hostile towards Barney.

Time passed and most of their coworkers were certain Bob’s reserved acrimony had faded. Weeks passed and the tense relationship returned to normal. One day, Bob bolted from the mouth of their mine. He yelled about a horrible accident. The workers rushed to where the two had labored. The Irishman was crushed beneath a massive pile of rubble.

No one suspected anything, at first. Rock slides were an occupational hazard in the mine. The miners pulled Barney’s body out and wiped the dust from it, but something was wrong. He had a strange, deep wound in his forehead. It was nothing like the typical injuries sustained from falling rock. Whispers began immediately, and so did talk of how strange it was the Englishman didn’t have a single bruise from such a slide. Usually, the rocks fell too quickly for anyone to fully escape.

The death, deemed accidental, initiated a chain reaction. Many of the mine’s regular workers quit that day. They declared the death was suspicious and something terrible would happen because of it. Many believed Barney was dead before the rocks ever fell on him. They suspected divine retribution was on its way.

The tavern storyteller claimed to be one of the men who remained with the company after Barney’s death. The Englishman changed afterward. He developed an intense fear of that particular spot in the mine. Bob went everywhere the company assigned him, but hesitated when it came to that portion of the tunnel. He said he couldn’t take the grief of losing such a dear friend.

Another month passed and the Englishman was placed in different part of the mine, with a new group of men. This new group worked far deeper in the mine, and their work required torches.

Work proceeded as usual a few days, but soon after a gust of wind snuffed the lights. One brave soul volunteered to get the replacement light, so the rest of the group waited in the darkness. Several workers grew steadily apprehensive. The wind wasn’t natural. Something was wrong with it. It was absolutely frigid, and much stronger than what they normally encountered so deep within the earth. They suffered in silence. Even the most frightened still held onto their pride.

Bob claimed he saw a light just down the tunnel, but no one else could see it. He said a man walked in the corridor ahead with a torch. He said he would go light his torch and took off.

His coworkers didn’t like it. A few followed him from a distance. They still didn’t see any indication of the man he mentioned. The mining company operated bituminous mines, which meant frequent open shafts in the ground. The miners didn’t want him to fall. A few seconds later, they halted. The Englishman screamed and begged Barney to be merciful. They heard another shriek and seconds later, a tremendous splash in deep water.

The miner who’d first gone to retrieve light came running when he heard the screams. The group of men reached the spot where Bob had been, on the cusp of a deep shaft. They looked down into the test-hole. Bob floated in the dark water with a large and bloody gash on his forehead, just like the one Barney had. They also noticed a bloody pickaxe lay across the hole from them. From that point on, Bob’s spirit wandered that portion of the mine until the company closed its mining operations forever.

The Old Soldier Who Didn't Die

John Vesti was an ex-Confederate soldier in Bristol. Vesti had a vision that he would die on September 3, 1911. He was so convinced that he dug his own grave and made his preparations that August. His final resting place would be by his first wife's grave in the Meadowview-Emory area.

Neighbors, who knew Vesti as levelheaded and sensible, were alarmed. Stories of his vision appeared in newspapers across the nation. Vesti did not believe in superstition, omens, or portents. He claimed he had a divine vision that September 3 was ordained to be the date of his death. He said he would die of natural causes despite his current good health.

There is no record of his premonition coming to fruition.

The Ordeal of Blood

This ancient test has a variety of names, among them: Bier's Test, Bier- Right, Trial by Touch, Ordeal of Blood, Blood-test, and Covenanting by Blood. The ancient practice has origins so far back that no singular foundation is known. It was practiced across civilized nations as far back as Richard the Lionhearted. Many Arabic documents mention a similar ritual dating back to 800 AD. The test is also alluded to in the ancient Teutonic epic poem the Nibelungenlied, as well as Shakespeare's Macbeth.

The Bier's Test is simple in theory. The body of a murder victim is placed atop a small platform, or bier. Suspects believed to have committed the crime are ordered to touch the body. If the murderer touches the corpse, it will bleed fresh blood. Some believed the blood appeared to accuse the culprit, while others believed it was a divine demand for justice.

Germanic peoples called it the Bahr-Recht, or the Law of the Bier. It became accepted as fact, even among intellectuals of the period of Charles I. His chief physician, Dr. Walter Charleton, believed the test was always accurate.

The act has appeared in old ballads, such as Earl Richard and Young Huntin' from the Eighteenth Century. One passage reads:

"The maiden touched the clay-cauld [cold] corpse

A drop it never bled

The lady lay her hand on him

And soon the ground was red."

Origins

Many experts through history have attributed this custom to Jewish people, for they held human blood in the highest regard. Blood was believed to hold the soul and functioned as the life force within the body. It was reverently used for the most important contracts, sealing kinships, and various other imperatives.

The Book of Jewish Ceremonies, by Gamaliel Ben Pedahzur, published in 1738, mentions an old Jewish custom observed by those in mourning. Loved ones and acquaintances of the deceased laid a hand on the corpse’s largest toe and pleaded for forgiveness from any offense they caused in life. If the offense was extreme, or the person was not forgiven, the nose of the corpse poured blood. Another author named Manasoch Ben Israel also mentioned the practice in his book, dated 1651. The Babylonian Talmud stated the ground refused to absorb Abel’s blood until Cain had been punished.

As the ritual became established, observers wrapped corpses in bright white linens so any traces of blood would be noticed. On a side note, many who firmly believed in the Ordeal of Touch believed the Ordeal of Water (used during witch trials) was heathenish and ridiculous. Famous Irish artist Daniel Maclise depicted a scene of the ordeal of touch in the 1800s.

The Ordeal was one of countless Old-World customs to cross the Atlantic with the settlers. The Ordeal of Blood has been observed in a number of states, including New York, Illinois, Ohio, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Virginia.

William Whittington

The Northampton County trial began on December 14, 1656. Captain William Whittington issued a warrant for a Jury of Inquest over the body Paul Rynners, who was murdered. The community suspected a man named William Custis. The ceremony occurred with a jury scrutinizing Custis’s behavior. He touched Rynners’s corpse on both the face and the torso, but no bleeding occurred. He was exonerated of suspicion afterward.

The Carter Family’s Ordeal of Blood

The body of a baby boy was found in Accomack County, in March 1679. It was buried in a blue blanket. The suspects were Paul Carter, his wife Sarah, and stepdaughter Mary.

Mary had the baby in January. The family claimed that it died and they buried it beneath the floorboards of their home. Both Paul and Sarah assisted Mary with the delivery. Family members stated the child died during its first night. The burial was done secretly to hide Mary’s shame. The parents claimed they didn’t even know Mary was pregnant until she was in her seventh month.

Magistrates appointed a jury of 12 ladies to oversee the proceedings. The legal panel was taken to a nearby garden, where Sarah moved the corpse. She said it would be easier for the group to examine the child outside. Their deeds weren’t suspected for another 6 weeks.

The baby was exhumed. Sarah held the child with no reaction. Paul held it next and the corpse grew blood red. The authorities noticed extensive bruising around its neck and signs of other neglect. The story the family told the community was quickly coming undone.

Questioning

The jury documented their findings and reported the evidences to the authorities. The three Carters were then brought before a panel of community members and questioned individually.

Paul was brought before the jury and questioned first. He claimed the child had lain between him and Sarah that first night, but was dead the following morning.

Sarah was questioned next. She claimed the child was stillborn. She washed and dressed the body after it passed, and they buried it without ceremony.

Mary was then questioned. She initially claimed the child’s father was James Tuck. She claimed the baby slept between her and her mother that first night. She said the child screamed once after birth and then was silent. All three stories agreed that labor lasted only around 2 hours.

Clarity

As their stories unfolded, the truth became obvious. Mary initially claimed she was raped by James Tuck, but it was proven she was with him, consensually, several times afterward. It also emerged she was frequently intimate with her stepfather, Paul. She displayed more signs of doubt as the questioning proceeded. She eventually admitted that, in her heart, she knew the child belonged to her stepfather.

Sarah admitted she’d witnessed her husband hugging and kissing her daughter. She even watched him lift up her daughter’s petticoats. She said she rebuked him, but he said he did no harm.  All three were found guilty of various charges and were to be separated. No further proceedings were documented.

Oliver Vermillion's Silent Bones

Oliver Vermillion was a wealthy man in the 1820s. He lived in the Thompson’s Ford area of Nickelsville, Virginia. Vermillion was a livestock baron who’d originally came from Russell County, Virginia. Folks in the community assumed Vermillion, like most locals, carried his money on his person. 

A neighbor stopped to visit Vermillion one day, but he was gone. He didn’t think much about it and went about his duties. It wasn’t long before a week had passed since anyone had spoken to him. Still, no one was particularly concerned because he routinely left without notice. He often traveled to cattle markets in surrounding regions.

Weeks became months, and then a year passed. The people who knew him puzzled over his disappearance. His cattle remained unattended unless neighbors helped, his house still contained his belongings, and no one ever saw him elsewhere.

Community members also remembered that a local shopkeeper had come into a great deal of money around the time Vermillion disappeared. The storeowner was already financially stable, but he suddenly had considerably more. He couldn’t provide a consistent reason for the abrupt windfall. Neighbors soon suspected he was behind Vermillion’s disappearance, but no one could prove their suspicions. There was no body, no signs of a struggle, and no real evidence to incriminate the suspicious character.

Vermillion’s memory grew distant as time marched on. Neighbors took over the management of his herds and property. His home was rented out, in case he returned. Eventually, his livestock and belongings were either sold or put away. He was forgotten as the years passed.

The Past Plagues the Present

A new family settled into Vermillion’s house in the 1850s. A few weeks later, the lady of the house was hanging clothes out to dry when she heard her chickens on the hillside. The hill sat next to the house, so the family often let them roam during the day. The birds were oddly loud around one particular spot. They didn’t exactly sound frightened, but they were uneasy.

The havoc didn’t diminish as she crept up the hill to investigate. She reached a cluster of brush and pulled the foliage aside to find a small cave. She started to enter, but halted when she noticed a human skeleton on the ground.

Neighbors eventually arrived with the authorities. It was confirmed that the bones belonged to Oliver Vermillion. The few who remembered him recognized the skeleton’s clothing. Most of the people in Nickelsville believed he was murdered, but no one knew what possible legal action they could take after so long. 

Community leaders came together with police and thought of a possible solution. Many residents of Copper Creek still believed if a murderer touched their victim’s bones, the bones would bleed. They set about arranging an Ordeal of Blood.

To Touch a Skeleton

The sheriff issued a blanket summons to gather everyone who’d been at least 15 at the time of Vermillion’s disappearance. On the day of the event, far more spectators attended than those actually summoned. The bones were displayed and everyone who fit the criteria was compelled to touch them as an officer watched. The deputy then inspected the remains for blood. 

Eventually, the community’s original suspect from almost 30 years earlier arrived. Everyone watched, spellbound, as he approached the table that held the remains. He was visibly shaken, much more so than anyone else in attendance. He held the bone a moment and dropped it, but the remains did not bleed. There was no way to convict him, despite his obvious guilt. He was the only attendee to have such a reaction, out of all who’d preceded him, and those after him.

It seemed he’d gotten away with murder, but his telling behavior garnered far more observers than he imagined. Vermillion’s bones did not bleed, but perhaps vengeance came in another form. Many people watched the suspect’s abnormally guilty display towards the remains. After that day, his usual customers stopped visiting and a short time later, he was forced to leave the area or face financial ruin.

Reuben Herndon's Ordeal of Blood

Reuben Herndon is often mentioned as one participant in the ordeal of blood in Virginia. Unfortunately, no evidence can be found to support this long-held belief. Still, the case remains a fascinating glimpse at post-Civil War justice in Virginia.

About Reuben

Reuben Herndon was a Confederate soldier in the Civil War. He enlisted a private and was discharged a private. He lived near Verdiersville, in Orange County, Virginia. He married Susan Mason, daughter of Reverend Saunders Mason, and they settled into typical married life for the period. Herndon was a carpenter by trade, and although he was never ordained, many knew him to be an occasional preacher.

Those who personally knew Herndon were certain of one thing. He was a mousy man, regarded as far too timid for any kind of cruelty or brutality. It drew a tremendous amount of sensation when he became the central suspect in a murder.

Mary Mollie Lumsden

Mollie Lumsden was a bright young woman from a respectable family. Relatives were stunned when she disappeared on April 24, 1868. She had become a well-known face in the Herndon household, as she helped Susan care for the Herndon children. The Herndon and Lumsden families were neighbors and both were known by all in the region, but popularity and respectability didn’t help Mollie. She just vanished. Weeks passed and no one in the territory, or even the state, had seen her. The Lumsden family had given up on any news of Mollie.

Mrs. James Jacobs waited for her dog to return home on the evening of May 24,1868. Jacobs’s hound had roamed for hours, so she called it home. The dog didn’t return as normal. It returned with bloody paws and legs. She examined the animal for injury, but couldn’t find any. She decided to see where the blood originated.

She tracked the dog’s trail. Eventually, she found three strange piles of wood in the middle of a forest. She saw human remains beneath each pile of wood. Jacobs summed the neighbors and the investigation began. When the wood was removed, everyone knew it was Mollie. Her clothing and hair revealed her identity.

Mollie’s father was among the first people on the scene. Investigators found a familiar necktie near the body, but her father couldn’t quite place it. John Woolfolk, Justice of the Peace, conducted a cursory examination. He believed she was pregnant, and it appeared the infant was cut out of her body. A wave of horror passed through the community. Lumsden finally recalled Reuben Herndon wore that tie. Mollie’s body was around a mile from Herndon’s home.

Authorities found a letter in Mollie’s pocket that directed her towards an isolated spot around a mile from where her remains were found. Lumsden’s suspicions became fury. He marched to the Simpson house, where Herndon worked, and asked Reuben to view her body. Herndon refused and said he wanted to go home.

Suspicion Gains Substance

Lumsden asked again later, and again Herndon had an excuse. The routine continued until the authorities forced Herndon to go. This is most likely where the confusion over the ordeal of blood started. Herndon was ordered to view the scene, but nothing supports his being forced to touch the remains. The mysterious letter in Mollie’s pocket read (partially corrected for readability):

Mollie, I have tried everything that would do any good, and do not know better we can do than to run away. They will find it out anyhow, and I am going to take these here oxen to Mr. Johnson’s and he will pay me the money for them; so as soon as I come home you can take your bonnet and shawl and tell Susan [Herndon’s wife] you want something from home about dress, and when you get over to the woods, go down the path a little ways, and then turn to the left and go down to that old fence that runs between the woods and pines, and hide yourself, so if anybody should come along, that they can’t see you; and then stay until Fife [Mollie’s brother] leaves this evening, and I will come out of there, and by morning, we will be out of the reach of anybody around here; when you leave the path do not let your tracks be seen, nor anywhere through the pines, for fear that they might find you before night. Now, if you will do this, after you read it come in and bow your head; do not let Susan see this or know anything about it; should anybody come while I am gone to Mr. Johnson’s, do not let them see your face, if you can help it. 

When the men read the letter aloud at the scene, Herndon broke down. Lumsden charged Herndon with murdering his daughter. Herndon admitted to seducing her, but not to her murder. Lumsden raised a large hickory branch to thrash Herndon, but magistrate Richard Richards stopped him.

Johnson, mentioned in Herndon’s letter, would not buy the steers as Herndon thought. Johnson had tried to buy them many times before and Herndon always refused. Johnson had the upper hand and got the pair of steers, worth $40, for a mere $28. This was only because Herndon confessed to Johnson that he would be ruined if he couldn’t sell them.

Several weeks passed and suspicion never wavered from Herndon. He even published a warning in the newspaper, The Native Virginian, which threatened his accusers with a defamation suit.

Herndon in Jail

His proclamations of innocence fell upon deaf ears. Herndon was arrested around the first of June. His admission to seduction was all the proof necessary to bring down the full wrath of the people. A mob gathered outside the Orange County Jailhouse during the first week of June. Over 100 people promised to lynch him; however, only 12 people showed. Those who came dispersed with no further violence.

Herndon hired notable attorneys Judge Robertson and Shelton F. Leake. His counsel pushed the trial date further and further away. Herndon’s patience wore thin. He escaped the jail on July 26. Virginia’s Governor issued his own proclamation the next day, and offered a $500 reward for his capture.

No one heard of Herndon until August the 17. Many believed he’d gone west, or maybe into Mexico. He didn’t. Herndon wandered around the area with no money or clothing. He eventually found a barn he thought belonged to a relative named Grady. It didn’t.

He trespassed into a different neighbor’s barn and that neighbor summoned Justice Woolfolk. Life on the lamb had not been kind. He was pale and emaciated. He said he’d eaten five meals in ten days, and had wandered much of that time, usually in the rain. He was so exhausted he could barely talk. His feet were bare, swollen, and covered in cuts and bruises. He just wanted to be left alone.

Conviction

The authorities chained Herndon to the jail cell floor afterward. His wife divorced him while he awaited trial. His attorneys continued to postpone proceedings. Herndon didn’t go to trial until late May 1869.

The authorities constructed a timeline of events that partially coincided with Herndon’s admission. He seduced Mollie and she became pregnant. Herndon was too terrified to take responsibility for his behavior, so he procured some kind of abortive. The exact substance was never established, but it killed both Mollie and their baby.

Herndon realized he had to get rid of the body. He couldn’t think of anything other than dismembering it. He chopped her body into three parts, but didn’t have the gumption to finish the job. Instead, he piled wood on top of each part. This is where the rumors he cut the infant out of her stomach began. 

He was convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to 18 years in the state penitentiary. Newspapers reported in late July that Herndon had been ill since his sentence started. He still professed his innocence and seemed to hope the mystery would be cleared one day.

Herndon’s final mention in the papers came in March of 1870. A fellow inmate stabbed him in the shoulder, although it was not serious. He was taken to a hospital for treatment and returned to prison.

The Druid Church

The term Druid Church is an archaic phrase used in the Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries. If you have a good amount of Appalachian knowledge, you’ve probably already guessed this is a synonym for a camp meeting. Camp meetings, or outdoor church meetings, were known by a wide variety of names, including grove service. Today, they are known as tent revivals.

The term druid church came into use because of the old pagan method of worship. Druids were the only known pagan group to worship, not at stone monuments, alters, or even in temples, but in groves of oak. Their very name means oak seer. Camp meetings likewise occurred in remote locations and were held beneath large tree groves, usually for shelter, during warmer months. Camp meetings had to be scheduled for whenever they wouldn’t interfere with farming duties. There weren’t legions of spiritual advisors and counselors; usually just one or two traveling circuit rider ministers. The rest of the time was filled with singing and fellowship.

Appalachian areas were entirely cut off from civilization when first settled. Even the closest neighbors were often miles away. Naturally, there weren’t established places of worship. Areas fortunate enough to have the resources for a formal house of worship seldom had spiritual leaders to occupy them. Most had to suffice with traveling circuit rider preacher a few times a year.

Most towns wouldn’t see established churches with regular services for decades. Recent estimates state Appalachian churches weren’t common until the 1840s or 1850s. Camp meetings quickly grew so popular that several churches in England started observing them, and later became the Primitive Methodist Society.

The settlers were deeply religious, but needed an outlet for worship. These gatherings grew in fame and regularity during the 1790s. The first camp meeting was believed to’ve been somewhere between 1797 and 1800, by Dr. James McGreedy, of Logan County, Kentucky. From available information, it would’ve been in 1797, as one tremendous gathering happened in Cane Ridge, Kentucky, in 1798. Over 20,000 people, of all colors and ages, gathered to worship.

Camp meetings normally lasted around a week. Transportation was so unreliable that people needed camping equipment and provisions to attend. Many attendees traveled for days just to reach a meeting. A great supply of fresh water was necessary, so meetings were also held near streams and rivers.

Wise County had a common camp meeting area, near a sizable spring in Glamorgan. The meeting at this spot was often held by the Wise Methodist Church. Camp meeting traditions remained so popular that they were highlighted by the Federal Writer’s Project in 1941.

Hatfield's Jail Break

The Hatfield-McCoy feud is a part of Appalachian history that became a common adjective for any bitter dispute. The original warfare is currently believed to have lasted from 1878 until 1891; however, concrete data is lacking. No one was interested in the feud until years after it was over, which means myths and misconceptions continue to abound even today.

Origins

The Hatfield family was headed by William Anderson Devil Anse Hatfield. They lived in West Virginia, along the Kentucky border. The Hatfields had money and power. The McCoys lived right across the border, in Kentucky. They were headed by patriarch Randolph Ole Ran’l McCoy. The McCoys lacked the resources and connections their neighbors enjoyed.

No one has solidly established just how long the families feuded. As far back as the Civil War, the two parties were said to have disagreed over which side to support. The Hatfields became Confederates while the McCoys supported the Union. This is commonly believed to be the starting point of the infamous battle, although several unverified accounts state their bad blood went back as far as 1850, and involved stolen livestock.

One popular variation stated the battle began when ex-Union soldier Asa Harmon McCoy returned home from the Army, around 1865. Harmon was medically discharged after he broke his leg. According to this story, a group of militant ex-Confederates, headed by a Hatfield, ambushed McCoy. They soon proved Devil Anse had nothing to do with the murder. He was bedridden due to illness when the crime was supposed to have happened. Facts didn’t quell suspicion that Hatfield’s relatives were involved.

Other versions of the tale state this particular murder wasn’t a factor in the fighting at all. Whatever the cause, the feud would eventually be credited with 13 deaths. 

His Not-So-Great Train Robbery

John Hatfield, cousin of Devil Anse, gained most of his notoriety long after the feud was over. He remained on the wrong side of the law well into his golden years. In March of 1913, John and his friends, Robert Cline and Burman Hatfield, decided they would hold up a Southern Train as it traveled through Wise County, Virginia.

The bandits successfully stopped the train, and even delayed it for six hours. Unfortunately, it was a cargo train, not a passenger train. When they realized their failure, the empty-handed robbers fled. Luck remained with Hatfield that year because the authorities never found him.

Hatfield dodged the law another decade, but whatever luck he had briefly disappeared. He was arrested, charged, and convicted of the murder of a man named Mullins in 1922. His 20-year-sentence didn’t dampen his spirits, even though he was 72 when the verdict was handed down.

By December 1923, Hatfield was ready to bust out. He warned the jailer that his escape was imminent, but the officer laughed at the old man’s threat. Hatfield made the same statement several times to different officials, and the authorities decided it was better to check his cell, just in case he had a suitable jailbreak implement. The authorities didn’t find a single file or sharp object. They dismissed his claims as nothing more than the irate ramblings of an aging outlaw.

The authorities didn’t laugh a few days later, when it really happened. Somehow, Hatfield indeed broke out of jail. The inmates in his cell pried a steel rail from one of the beds and used it to pry the bars from the window. A water hose was used to climb down from the fourth floor. No one ever established how they dismantled a steel bed, or stole a water hose, without detection.

To add to the law’s chagrin, convicted murderers Stephen Wood and Alex Mullins followed Hatfield. Two other lesser criminals also escaped. The men fled into the night. 

Inmates in other cells eventually noticed Hatfield’s was empty and alerted the guards. Law enforcement and the fire department were dispatched, but it was too late. Heavy falling snow camouflaged their tracks within minutes. Hatfield’s ultimate fate is not known, but his last quote to the other inmates was, Tell that jailer he told me a barefaced lie when he said there was no chance for me gettin’ outta here.

The Consequences of Irreverent Laughter

Scott County’s only double-execution happened on February 6, 1885. The hanging occurred in Estillville, or what later became Gate City. Wayne Powers, 23, and George Gibson, 25, were convicted of murder in April 1884.

The Crime

William Gibson was murdered during a drunken fight on the way home to Scott County, Virginia. William traveled with his cousin George Gibson. Brothers Jonas and Wayne Powers accompanied them. Jonas left the trio before any trouble began. Altogether, the men had consumed around six pints of brandy.

George and William were fighting when they reached Dungannon. Wayne then joined the fray. Both George and Wayne shot William. He died instantly. They decided to salvage his clothing, so they stripped it off the body. They also split the money he carried, which was a little over $9.

Legend states the murderers hung William’s dead body, and then burned it while they laughed. The crime was allegedly committed for $12 and a new suit. There’s no documentation to support this version of events. The actual motive was never formally established. Unconfirmed reports attributed the violence to an argument over who paid the most money for the brandy.

The Aftermath

Both men confessed to the crime. After their conviction, Wayne authored a pamphlet chronicling his many crimes, which included several instances of attempted murder. He wrote that he once tried to kill his own brother.

The execution wasn’t public, but that didn’t stop thousands from attending. The murderers were given a public podium to address spectators prior to their demise. Wayne took center stage and warned those in attendance about the dangers of cards, pistols, and whiskey.

George joked that the rope was going to break with him, but the laughter would not last. Both men were hung at 12:30. Wayne’s neck snapped quickly, but perhaps out of divine retribution for George’s irreverent humor, his neck did not break. He struggled for some time before he died.

Virginia's Code Duello

Code Duello is the historic term for the gentlemanly act of dueling. This lost practice permeated global societies for centuries. The motive could be anything from remedying an insult, to defending a loved one’s honor. Virginia passed its Anti-Dueling Act in 1810, but that didn’t stop the insulted or dishonored from seeking loopholes to salvage their reputations.

February 6, 1819

Armistead T. Mason and John M. McCarty dueled in Loudoun County. Mason attempted to avoid the confrontation because it arose from political arguing, but his evasion didn’t work. The two dueled on a cold winter morning. Mason was shot through the heart and died. The two men were actually cousins, and several legends state McCarty went insane after the murder.

March 22, 1820

Commodore Stephen Decatur dueled with Admiral James Barron. Barron was court-martialed in 1807 because he hadn’t prepared his ship for British attack. As a result, the enemy invaded. Enemy troops killed three crewmen, severely injured several others, and freed four of their men who were imprisoned aboard.

Barron fled to Europe, where he remained for several years after the proceedings. Upon his return, Decatur continually harassed him. Barron eventually challenged him. Decatur had just recently settled with his wife in Washington, DC. Both men were wounded, but only Decatur died.

Henry Clay’s Double Duels

Henry Clay fought two unusual duels during his life. The first was in 1808, with Humphrey Marshall of the Kentucky Legislature. The two men dueled, exchanged several shots, but neither were injured.

His second duel happened on April 8, 1826. John Randolph was a Virginia Senator who insulted Clay on the Senate floor. The insults led to a challenge. The two met at Pimmit Run in Arlington. Perhaps the strangest factor was that neither man intended to shoot the other, so both men fired into the air and walked away unharmed.

February 27, 1859

Representative Daniel Sickles dueled with Barton Key, son of Francis Scott Key. Sickles was an infamous scoundrel who stirred controversy and scandal wherever he went. The New York State Assembly censured him early in his political career because he brought infamous prostitute Fanny White into the private chambers. He took the same prostitute, who masqueraded as his wife, when he met the Queen of England. His actual wife was pregnant at home.

Key was District Attorney for the District of Columbia. Sickles suspected Key of having an affair with his wife and grew enraged; regardless of the fact his numerous extramarital escapades were common gossip. Sickles murdered Keys and fled, but was captured. Unfortunately, justice was not to be served. Sickles enjoyed a posh prison life with plenty of visitors and special privileges while incarcerated in his own special cell.

The most tragic figure was his wife. His defense team’s chief aim was to slander her, to distract from the blood on Sickles’s hands. They continually portrayed her as a common jezebel and harlot to divert attention from the murder. Still, his wife did everything she could to see her husband escaped punishment.

His was the first case in United States history where the term temporary insanity was used in court. It was a staggering success and he was acquitted. Sickles enjoyed a tremendous public outcry against forgiving his wife for her infidelities. Sickles lived to the ripe age of 94, but never escaped his penchant for disgrace.

September 11, 1902

John Spriggs and William Prater confronted one another in the Meadowview area of Washington County, Virginia. The two met in a storeroom, where Prater insulted Spriggs’s wife, and immediately fired. Prater returned fire. Both men fired until their guns were empty. Both received fatal chest wounds.

Noah Fulton’s Execution of Confusion

Noah Fulton’s execution remains one of the most controversial instances of capital punishment in Virginia. The 21-year-old was tried and convicted of first-degree murder in 1907. One of the most tragic aspects of the trial and sentence came towards the end of Fulton’s life.

Noah Fulton and John Johnson were life-long friends. Fulton worked at the lumber mill, while Johnson farmed, but the two spent a month working in West Virginia that March. They then returned to their native Abingdon. Several erroneous reports stated Fulton was colored, but he wasn’t.

The constant friendship hit a bad patch when the two young men quarreled. Some sources stated Johnson insulted Fulton. Others suggested Fulton had become a hired gun, and someone else paid him to kill Johnson. Fulton told authorities that Johnson had threatened his life on the day of his capture. Several sources declared they were rival suitors for the same young woman. Johnson was only 23-years-old when he died.

About Dorah

Numerous accounts linked Johnson and Fulton with a 17-year-old girl named Dorah Breedvole. In this account, the young men dueled after a month of arguing. They quarreled in West Virginia and the conflict faded. When the young men returned to Abingdon, their anger was rekindled, and they dueled. They met on April 28, just after church. Breedvole was crushed by the series of events.

The Crime Comes Home

Both men met at 2:00 that afternoon, in Greendale, near Abingdon. Fulton shot Johnson five times, but only one bullet was fatal. Johnson bled to death when a single bullet severed an artery.

Fulton fled to Tennessee. The authorities remained close behind with bloodhounds. He purchased a ticket for Indianapolis at the station in Bluff City, Tennessee. The authorities apprehended him in Jonesboro, Tennessee, on the 29th.

Fulton was incarcerated in the Abingdon jail. He was convicted of first-degree murder on June 10, 1907. His lawyer made a motion for a new trial, but the initial request was denied on June 11. The judge sentenced him to be hanged on July 12.

His counsel began proceedings to have the death sentence commuted to life in prison. His youth prompted public outcry and numerous petitions for clemency. For a long time, he and his family maintained hope. On July 2, he was given a respite to allow time for an appeal. The execution day was postponed to September 13, 1907. News came again on September 9, this time his death was postponed to October 11. On October 7, the sentence was again set up for November 15. On November 14, it was extended to December 13, 1907.

Virginia Governor Claude A. Swanson poured over the