I was reading my newspaper this morning and there was an article in the human interest section discussing a place in Kentucky named Awe. Awe appears on maps and on a GPS, however it just doesn’t exist any longer. The roads are grown over, there are no remaining house structures, and no evidence exists that at one time the air would have been full of the sounds of a small farming community. Now all that is heard is a bird calling to its mate or a chattering squirrel, or perhaps the sound of an engine on some distant highway.
I grew up in such a place; a place called Queens Creek. It was a small farming community, pretty far from what we used to call the “hard” road, that being defined as a road that had a black top or concrete surface. The nearest “hard” road would have been State Route 37 near Fort Gay, WV or one of the paved surface roads near Kenova, WV.
The families that lived there when I was a child in the thirties would have been the Erie Lakin family, the Arthur Hatten family, the Ralph Plymale family. For a short period of time there was a small building behind the Arthur Hatten home where his son Cloise and his wife resided for a short time. At the Plymale family house, the creek sort of split with Queens Creek continuing with a small no name branch veering to the left that everyone called the Curnutte hollow or “holler” in some quarters. In the Curnutte hollow section lived the Ben Curnutte family, the Walter Johnson family and at one time the Jim Mcglone family. At one time a gentleman named Enoch Johnson would come to stay at the Johnson family house for a few weeks or months to hunt squirrels and other small animals. Continuing on up Queens Creek from the Plymale family home were the Boys family, then next the one room school-house where the community children all attended school, grades one through eight. The school had a large class room and two small ante rooms just off of it. One room was a coat room and the other was the school library that never had more than a dozen books at one time. There was an open well for water, a boys outdoor toilet and a girls outdoor toilet. I don’t remember if they were “one holers” and or “two holers”. The class room was centrally heated. HA! What that means is that there was a “pot-bellied” stove in the CENTER of the room. You had to strive hard to locate a comfort zone in the room. Not to hot, not to cold. I remember my mother would treat us to small cans of pork and beans for our lunch. To heat them one would place them on a ring around the top of the pot-bellied stove. One winter day I placed my little can of beans on the stove to heat prior to lunch. One thing to remember, these were small, sealed cans of beans, not opened. I committed the cardinal sin that day. Yep, I left the beans on too long and if you guessed they blew up, you are right. Beans all over the class room so there went my lunch.
There was a small house across from the school that was intermittently occupied with various families. Newly weds, people moving into the community, that sort of thing. Continuing just past the school-house there was a small house that an older couple lived in for a while but I can’t recall their names. Next up the creek was the Emma LaLonde home. Up a small branch behind her home was a small log cabin owned by Ira and Kate Ferguson. I believe that he was retired from the railroad and had a permanent residence in Portsmouth, OH. He and his wife would come to Queens Creek and spend the summers in their small cabin. Continuing on up Queens Creek would have been the Jim Lakin home, the Bob Rayborn home, then the Susan Johnson home, and finally the Eli Workman home. If I have left anyone out I am sure someone will correct me.
Queens Creek still has a number of families living on it but only one of the residents that was growing up at the time I was a youngster is still there. Wanda Boys Hollingsworth still calls Queens Creek home and has a small home on the property where the old family home stood. Due to declining health she now winters in Florida with relatives but returns each spring to the place of her youth. There are a few relatives of the families that were there when I was a child that have returned to Queens Creek ,for whatever reasons, to live in their retirement years.
The roads while I was growing up were atrocious. Dry and dusty in the summer and muddy and many times impassable with a motor vehicle in the winter. Many times during the winter people might park their car at the point that the road connected with Big Hurricane Creek road to ensure that they could get to public work in Kenova or one of the nearby towns. Once you arrived at Big Hurrincane Creek road, you were still not out of the woods. This was another dirt road, maybe a bit wider, covered with some gravel. This did not prevent the appearance of large “mud holes” not deep ruts in the winter time. I recall our vehicle being towed out of the mud by horses or my Dad taking our horses and returning the favor to a neighbor. I can recall only traveling equally bad roads once in my lifetime since then. That would have been travelling the road between Pineville, KY and Red Bird Mission Hospital located at Beverly, KY during the 1960s. But that is a story for another time.
I remember one winter during the mid 30s when it was especially cold and rural roads became almost impassable for motor vehicles. With man;y freezes and thaws there was simply no firm surface to drive on. Usually on Thanksgiving and Christmas our family would go to visit our grandparents who lived on Mill Creek, just outside Fort Gay. This must have been 1934 or 1935 because there were only three of us children at the time. Since the roads were impassable, my dad hitched up a team of horses to the wagon, loaded the family in the wagon with lots of blankets and patchwork quilts and away we went. I don’t know the distance but it must have been 15 miles or more. I don’t recall much about the trip but I am sure it took three or four hours at the minimum. In looking back I am sure that we were simply demonstrating the will and determination of the rural American family. Would I or anyone else do that today? I seriously doubt it.
Our house was the end of civilization, at least the US government must have thought so. Why? Because that is where the rural mail route ended. There were a large number of rural mailboxes fastened to a rack that my dad built fastened to posts he had set in the ground. This made for a gathering of all of the neighbors living beyond the end of the route at our house each day. Now I believe that mail is delivered to the end location of the last house on the creek. Now that is progress and a real luxury.
Public utilities and sanitary for the area were a bout what one would find in any similar rural area at that time. We did have running water at my house. Translated this means, “you had to run to the dug well” . The well was very well dug and quite old. The water supply was very good but periodically I do remember that the well would be cleaned out. This meant removing all of the water and cleaning the bottom. I sort of remember that maybe when it was cleaned that they might put a little lime in the bottom, but perhaps not. In that there was no refrigeration on the farm, a glass jug of milk would be suspended by a rope in the well to provide cold milk for drinking. Occasionally in withdrawing the jug of milk it would strike the stone sides of the well and break the jug. Results; clean the well. It probably was not real safe climbing down into the well to effect a cleaning. Over the years, I have read of several instances where one or more people have died while down in the well working. Probably a lack of oxygen.
The bathroom was the old “tried and true” outdoor one or two hole toilet equipped with a Sears or Jim Brown catalog. The bathtub would have been a large galvanized tub placed in the kitchen with water heated on the wood fired cook stove. The dread of going to the outdoor toilet late on a cold winter night lay heavy on one’s mind. Certainly no time was wasted in doing whatever was necessary.
Heat for the cold winter days and nights was provided from two or three fireplaces, a large centrally located heating stove, and the wood fired cookstove in the kitchen. The fireplaces were all fired with coal. As one might imagine, there were a lot of cold and hot spots throughout the house. Of course, thermopane glass had not even been invented at that time, a lot of frosting occurred on the window pane and drafty air came around the windows.
Providing wood for the kitchen cook stove was an ongoing job throughout the year. A large pile of wood for the kitchen cook stove was kept stacked in the barn yard. I have no idea why it was not placed closer to the source of its use, the kitchen. A large wood box was kept in the kitchen and this was generally one of my or my siblings chores to keep this thing full. Wood cutting days were held periodically on an as needed basis. This always entailed bringing trees that were cut down in the woods to the barnyard where the old crosscut saws would be got out for use in cutting the logs into proper lengths. The cut logs would then be split into usable pieces and put in a pile to season for a few weeks prior to their use.
As winter approached, it became time to “lay in” a winters supply of coal. I recall that for a time that chore fell upon myself and my brother. A gentleman named Cal Roberts operated a small one man coal mine near the mouth of Queens Creek on Big Hurricane Creek road. We would put the harness on a team of horses and hitch them to a wagon and away we would go. There would have been a pile of coal at the entrance to the mine from which we would load the wagon. I believe a wagon load weighed one ton and of course it was not the cleanest job in the world. We would haul the coal to an outbuilding and load it inside for the winters use. I don’t recall how much coal it took to heat for the winter but it was probably two or three wagon loads. I think coal at that time, if you hauled it yourself, might have been two or three dollars a ton. That would result in about ten or twelve dollars to heat for the winter. Sounds pretty reasonable for today but at that time there was not a lot of dollars around.
I recall that in 1937 there was a terrible flood up and down the Ohio River valley. All of the towns, including Kenova and Huntington were badly flooded terribly. We had relatives living in those towns and their homes being underwater the only refuge they had was to come to our house to spend the duration of the flood. This presented a great logistical problem for my mother in feeding so many. I imagine there were probably twenty-five or so persons staying there. The flood resulted in Queens Creek road being flooded at the point where it enters Big Hurricane road. There was no way to get a vehicle in or out to shop for groceries. I recall my grandfather travelling through the hills and bringing food supplies so that my mother could feed everyone. She would have had a cellar full of canned foods, vegetables, etc. but for staples it was necessary to get flour, sugar, etc. I was not quite seven years of age at the time so many of the memories of the flood have been long forgotten and when you are that age things like floods don’t have a great effect on you. My mother was accustomed to cooking for large groups in that we would frequently have a lot of relatives visit us from the city for Sunday dinners so she somehow got through it all.
I remember walking home from school on a cold winters day and our mother would always have a pan of hot ginger bread or a pot of hot chocolate or something equally as warming made for us. Those things that I took for granted then, I miss so much now. I even miss the chores that were our responsibility after school. We would fill the coal buckets, bring in wood for the cook stove, fill the kerosene lamps, care for and feed the livestock and following supper (yep, that’s what we called it then) do whatever home work or reading assignments there were to do by the light of a kerosene lamp. By then it would have been time for bed because on the farm rising time was at an early hour and there was no opportunity to sleep in. I have many more childhood memories of on the farm living and independent way of life in the 30’s and as time and memory permits I will write them down.